#he just made a mistake and is now working through it with Johnny

[hoperays-song]

Random Johnny and Marcus Headcanons for the Human AU

Marcus and Johnny would cook together a lot when Johnny was young, mainly with Johnny sitting on the counter holding the recipe book for his dad to read.

Marcus’s nicknames for Johnny are John-song and John-bird, which come from his wife’s nickname for their son, songbird.

When Johnny gets night terrors, he will go sit with his dad til he’s calmed down enough to go back to sleep. He typically ends up falling asleep where-ever that turned out to be and Marcus still carries him to bed.

Marcus still carries an inhaler in case Johnny has a really bad panic attack again, even though the last one that severe was years ago. He also brings noise cancelling headphones everywhere in case Johnny gets sensory overload.

Johnny inherited his dad’s tendency to get awkward in suddenly emotional or intense situations. 

They both are very dramatic in the reactions to things.

Marcus called Johnny duck as a nickname when he was really little and now he does it in really intense situations to calm him down.

Marcus does still remember a bit of piano from his wife and will help Johnny out when he’s struggling.

Johnny helped his dad and uncles set up social media soon after they got out of jail. The first person Marcus followed was Johnny and he immediately went through and liked all his posts.

Marcus has a ton of books on parenting and raising/being supportive of your kids that he reads constantly.

Johnny tells his dad pretty much everything, including set gossip.

Marcus is in a groupchat with the other parents in the New Moon Theatre Troupe.

Marcus and Johnny both are fluent in Hindi and use it as a way to just talk to each other one on one in public without other people listening in.

Marcus is constantly hugging his son and tells him that he loves hims and is proud of him every chance he gets after the disaster that happened in Sing 1.

They started family therapy together after the whole disowning issue and are doing so much better that it’s surprised even their therapist.

Marcus has an alert set on his phone for every time Johnny is mentioned in a web article and he reads every single one. He even hangs his favourites around the garage and will show off videos of Johnny to customers. 

[charliemwrites]

Part 12 SpecGru reader!!

No content warnings for this chapter.

You mull over your captain’s words in the hours before dinner. Sitting behind Nova in her temporary room, Doctor Who’s opening theme warbling from your laptop’s speakers. You gently work oil into her scalp, following the precise alleys formed by her braids.

It’s a soothing ritual, not just for her, but for you. An act of care for a woman who’s been so kind and patient with you. Who always stood her ground on your worst days, and never allowed herself to be goaded into a useless argument. She’s warm beneath your fingers, soft against your chest, the scent of coconut and cinnamon sweet in your nose.

Slowly, you begin to card through memories you put great care into neglecting.

The day you left the hospital, feeling more pathetic than you ever had in your life. A packet of care instructions folded over in one hand. You remember the way Gaz hadn’t quite looked you in the eye, mouth tight and regretful at the corners. Almost guilty. Even when he handed over a bag of fresh clothes, saying he was glad to see you on your feet.

Did you know then? Was there some twinge of foreshadowing in your gut? Did you hear a foreboding whisper in your mind, of how the following twenty-four hours would devolve?

Maybe you did or maybe hindsight is a liar.

What really stands out, even after all this time, is how betrayed you felt (still feel) when you reflect on that interaction with Gaz. That the best he offered was a weak warning that Ghost and Price were pissed off at you. The hurt that he didn’t even ask how you felt before disappearing for the rest of that awful day. You never saw him after your initial discharge, he might as well have borrowed his lieutenant’s namesake.

And then there was Johnny.

Soap, who made himself perfectly visible, if only to express how pissed off he was. He never bothered to ask how you were doing either – didn’t even seem relieved to see you conscious and in one piece. He was tight-jawed and tense; the few times he deigned to speak to you was clipped and terse.

When you finally left, you remember how your chest ached, knowing (intending) you’d never see his thousand-watt smile again. A fair few of your tears on that flight had been in self-deprecation for expecting anything but his total, unwavering loyalty to Simon. It stung that for all his crowing about being a team, looking out for each other, no one left behind – he couldn’t spare you a crumb of forgiveness for a mistake in the field.

Price and Ghost had almost made sense, really. But Gaz and Soap had been a peculiar sort of pain. Your fellow sergeants, who had made you feel welcome and comfortable in the beginning – who had been the bridge and buffer between you and your intimidating superiors. And maybe it wasn’t their fault that you never quite felt like you had a seat at their table, but they’d tried.

Still… at least you can look at them. You can’t imagine opening your mouth to face Price or Ghost and anything but acid pouring out.

“What’s on your mind, babes?”

You blink, palms automatically cradling Nova’s head as she tilts it back to peer at you. On autopilot, you dip down to kiss her forehead, then the gentle curve of her lips.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t get me wrong, the massage is nice,” she teases, “but you’ve gone over my whole head at least twice now.”

“Oh,” you intone, swiping your thumb behind her ear. “Just thinkin’ is all.”

“I can tell,” she giggles, “there’s practically smoke comin’ outta your ears.”

You grimace a bit, arms lowering down to circle her shoulders in a hug. She curls her clever, slender fingers around your forearm, tracing soft patterns with her blunt nails.

“Sorry, love,” you mumble, flicking your eyes to the screen. Realize you’ve only got a vague idea of what’s going on. “I’m being a bad date.”

“You’re not,” she insists, squeezing your wrist. “This s’all been a lot, yeah? I just don’ want you being on your own in there.”

She taps two fingers against your temple. You used to spend all your time alone in your own head. Not because it was safe – it wasn’t – but it was familiar. It took her and the rest of the team concerted effort to pry anything of value from you.

Now, you muster up an appreciative smile as you nuzzle into her hand.

“I’ve just been trying to decide…”

She pauses the show and wriggles to get a better look at your face, hums for you to continue.

“If I should try talking to the 141,” you continue. “Cap said I should consider it. See if we can put all that old shit to rest.”

“Do you want to put it to rest?”

“I should.”

“But do you want to?”

The question brings you up a bit short. Being mad is easy. You’ve been mad at them for so long, one step short of loathing, that you’ve settled into the feeling. Dug your heels in. It’s an easy way to put a stopper on all the complicated hurt lying beneath.

“I want to talk to them the same way I want to go to the dentist,” you muse.

She picks up what you aren’t saying.

“You don’t want to, but you know it’s healthier if you do.”

You grunt, still too proud to admit it outright.

“The wound closed over, but it never healed properly,” she says. “Maybe you’ve got to reset it, yeah?”

You sigh. “Yeah. Just not sure where to start.”

She shrugs. “Wherever you want to. Do it on your own terms. Only way you’ll be able to stomach them.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“’Course I am,” she chirps. “I’m used to navigating bad weather.”

You nip at her fingers, prompting a bright peel of laughter as she tries to squirm away. As you wrestle her back into your lap, your nerves soften and settle.

Even if you excise this wound, you know you won’t be left bleeding alone. Not ever again.

You haven’t come to any concrete decision after dinner. Not that anyone asks. Nova isn’t one to push and your captain has already said his piece. You haven’t told Nikto or Keegan about your dilemma yet, and you’re not sure if you will.

Nikto’s take on the situation isn’t obvious – though if you had to guess, it would be similar to Nova’s. But Keegan? You already know what his answer would be.

Of anyone in SpecGru, he had to work the hardest to earn even an iota of warmth from you. He reminded you too much of Ghost – and how could he not? The perpetual mask, the sharp one-liners. Gruff and closed off, frighteningly capable, and a crack shot with a sniper rifle to boot.

It used to take everything in you to pull your punches during spars. The rare instances that you would agree to eat with your new team were never if Keegan was present. And more than once, you walked into the rec room, saw his looming figure, and turned right back around.

The only time you could stand to look at him was during missions, but your captain was always sure to receive a killer glare if he paired the two of you together.

Keegan was your partner on the mission that changed things.

It had been a week straight of shit sleep and bad memories, sick on loneliness and anger. When boots hit the ground, you stormed right in, eager to prove to yourself (but really, to them) that you were valuable. Didn’t wait for Keegan, but that had never stopped him from keeping pace with you before.

You didn’t clear your corners, got sloppy and hasty.

Took two stab wounds before Keegan shot the hostile in the temple. When he tried to call the others, you demanded that he finish the mission first. Would have rather bled out than be the reason another mission failed.

The pain and blood loss dragged you under as soon as you choked out the demand.

Then, Keegan’s face was the first thing you saw in the hospital room. Not the mask, him.

Even with dirt and black paint smudging his face, you could see the dark, worried circles beneath his eyes. Could read regret in his angular jaw, relief in the slant of his scarred mouth. For the first time, you looked in his eyes and saw more than an echo of your former lieutenant.

You saw your teammate. The partner you’d left to fend for himself because you’d been handicapped by your own pride. You saw Keegan.

“Did you finish the mission?” you rasped.

He frowned, but your captain stepped forward. “He did – once we were there to stop the bleeding.”

You never saw Ghost in the weave of his mask again.

And soon after, Keegan was the first person you opened up to about the 141.

It was that very same week. You’d been sick on shame and embarrassment, using your injuries to nurse your wounded ego. Skipping meals in exchange for raiding your snack drawers and moping in your cot.

Keegan hadn’t made himself scarce after your discharge. None of your team had, really – but he’d made a point of checking on you. And lacking your usual sharpness, he hadn’t been deterred by your comparatively mild standoffishness either.

Which was how you found yourself stubbornly tucked into the corner of your cot one night, while Keegan sewed the holes in your shirt. He kept shooting you amused looks – probably because you hadn’t taken your eyes off him once. Half wondering why he was there, half waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You gonna say something, or you just glare all night?” he drawled eventually.

You narrowed your eyes. “Do you plan to stay all night?”

He shrugged, but his eyes flicked to yours, the corner of his mouth ticking up. (No mask. He hadn’t worn one around you since the hospital. Not unless people outside your team were around.)

“If you’ll have me. Been meaning to get you caught up on the show we’ve been watching.”

You huffed, frustrated. “Why?”

He arched his brows at you, needle paused. “Because I like you, despite your best efforts.”

You stared, a little appalled, a little touched. Keegan just chuckled and went right back to mending your shirt. You drew your knees up tighter and hid your quivering mouth with your arms.

“Cap says your last team was shit to you,” he said into your sullen silence.

You scowled. He put a hand up as if in surrender.

“He hasn’t said more’n that, don’t worry,” he continued, “I’m just sayin’… I don’t take any of it personal. You’re a good teammate, I trust you with more than my six.”

Why, you wanted to demand, flabbergasted and all the guiltier because you knew you didn’t deserve it. Why did he trust you? Why was he so patient? Why was he there at all?

You sniffled, but he just kept talking.

“I want to return the favor, ya know? I’m not askin’ you to trust me after the mission, but you don’t gotta be on your own either.”

You were crying quietly by that point, face so hot that your tears felt cold, stomach aching from more than stab wounds. He finally looked up, saw how you were falling apart. But he didn’t shy away, didn’t close himself off. It wasn’t pity or sympathy that softened his eyes.

“The shit you and I carry, we’re not meant to do it alone, sweets.”

And what else could you do, but spill your sorry guts?

You remember the expression on his face when you got to the part about Ghost. Remember how tightly he held you on your cot, all the distance (emotional and physical) closed between you two. Remember waking up the next morning, Netflix still open on your laptop and flopped gracelessly over Keegan’s stomach like a childhood sleepover.

You couldn’t have iced him out again even if you wanted to, after that.

No, there’s no question what Keegan would tell you, if you asked about talking to the 141. He would say there’s no good reason to waste oxygen on a single one of them.

So, you don’t ask.

You climb into his lap in your temporary room that evening, peeling his mask up and off with slow hands. His eyes are already half-lidded, the corner of his mouth curved fondly. His hands spread across your thighs, warm and rough. The scar twisting across his left palm is sweetly familiar when he draws it along your skin.

“I’m going to try talking to the 141,” you admit.

His jaw twitches, eyes flickering. “Now why the hell would you do that?”

You sigh, curl your fingers into the brassy crop of hair he’s been growing out. He’s got a quick temper, and a habit of misplacing it when it’s been triggered by something out of his control. You don’t take it personally, you never have – it’s gratifying to see how much he cares.

“There’s no good reason to waste oxygen on a single one of ‘em,” he growls.

“There might be.”

He sits back, skeptical but waiting.

You continue, “I’ve got a lot of shit to say to them, and they seem eager to hear it.”

“Why give ‘em the satisfaction?” he asks.

“Maybe it’ll help with the nightmares.” That gives him pause. You draw your thumb soothingly across his temple – a bullet graze from saving your life. “We’ve got too much shit to carry, you and me. Unloading some of it is as good a reason as any.”

His hand drifts up your side, grazes the tattoo coiling down your arm. (The second you ever got – a big piece that took hours, Keegan never leaving your side. Nikto, Nova, and your captain periodically dropping in to provide snacks and water.)

He cups your jaw, guides your face down until your foreheads touch. You stay there, breathing him in. He smells like yours.

“What if they make it worse, huh?” His thumb caresses over your cheekbone the way it has a dozen times before, wiping away tears. “I’ll have to kill ‘em.”

You huff softly, amused. “Then kill ‘em. But I’m stronger than I was, Kee. There’s nothing they can weigh me down with that I can’t carry.”

“I know,” he whispers, tilting his chin to drop a sweet, aching kiss on your lips.

“Besides, I wouldn’t be carrying it alone anymore.”

His expression lightens, pride shining from his eyes. “Damn right.”

It’s nearly midnight when you wake from a light doze. Keegan is snoring softly, an arm and leg each hanging over the side of the bed. Your mouth is dry, but you realize it’s your stomach that woke you – pangs of hunger from picking at your dinner earlier. You need to eat.

Quiet and careful, you crawl out from beneath the sheets. Keegan is a heavy sleeper compared to the nearly supernatural senses of Nikto; he hardly stirs as you pad for the door. The hall lights are dim, but you only open it a crack to slip out.

The hall is quiet, no lights on beneath any of the other doors. You hope that means the rest of your team is sleeping peacefully. If you remember right, Nikto and Nova crawled in with your captain this evening. They’re all in good company if nightmares creep in; you pray Keegan doesn’t have any while you’re up.

Thankfully, the rec room is only two halls away. Light is spilling out as you turn the corner – there’s a sensor that shuts them off if no movement is detected for a while. Someone is either in there now or was recently. You half hope it’s the latter, but that doesn’t deter you from entering.

Your surprised to find Soap leaning against the kitchenette counter, a steaming mug in hand. His expression is flat, grim. Tired. You pause just inside the doorway.

“Might as well come in,” he says, voice low and rough. “I’ll clear out in a mo’.”

Even from where you’re standing, you can see that his cup is mostly full.

You exhale and shake your head. “Don’t have to.”

“How gracious,” he rasps, brows twitching like he wants to scowl. Like he can’t quite commit to being as bitter as he should be.

You’re too tired for your usual acid, as well. Just sigh and reach for the fridge door.

“Is that how you want this conversation to go?” you ask.

“Is this a conversation?” he replies.

You pluck out a yogurt cup. “It can be.”

He’s glaring into his coffee now, index finger tapping at the ceramic. Thinking. Or maybe just leashing all the things he wants to say but knows will drive you right back out.

“Why now?” he says finally.

You shrug. “Because I’m ready now.”

A tendon in his jaw twitches. “That’s not fair.”

A hot flicker of anger ignites in your chest. You tamp it down with a spoonful of yogurt, measuring out your words and tone.

“How do you reckon?” you inquire.

“You left,” he says. It’s been a while, but you can detect the hurt underlying the accusation. You suspect it’s something he’s wanted to say for a long time. “You left us behind.”

You click your teeth off your spoon, take a deep breath. It’s factually true. You are the one that left but—

“I wasn’t going to wait for you all to kick me out officially.”

He finally raises his eyes, a dark storm of emotion swirling within them.

“We wouldnae have.”

You tilt your head, cynicism in the flat line of your mouth. “Didn’t seem that way to me.”

“I ken you and Simon were—”

“Don’t.”

His mouth snaps shut, brows furrowed. You point at him with your spoon warningly but bite back the sharp remark on your tongue. Arguing isn’t the point here.

Settle instead to say, “Don’t speak for the others.”

There’s a beat of silence as he digests that, then finally nods. “Alright. Just you ‘n me then.”

You turn back to your yogurt, swipe up another spoonful as you reorganize your thoughts.

“I didn’t leave because of Ghost,” you begin. “Not entirely. I left because I was never part of the team. And what happened after that mission just… made it all very clear.”

Soap frowns, opens his mouth like he wants to deny it, but you hold up a finger to stop him. He takes a long sip of coffee and waits.

“You didn’t check on me at all. You weren’t there when I woke up. You never asked if I was okay,” you continue. “You were too busy being angry on Ghost’s behalf.”

“You almost got the both of you killed,” he argues.

“But you cared more about Ghost almost being hurt than the fact that I was,” you say. And dammit, you feel your sinuses burning, but your eyes stay blessedly dry. The anger disappears from his face all at once as realization sinks in. “I mattered to you less than Ghost.”

His hand tightens around his mug, knuckles blanching. “No. No, lass, tha’s no’… you were always… you survived.”

“I felt the worst I ever had in my life, but you didn’t care because I crossed the almighty Ghost,” you insist.

“I cared about you,” he denies.

“But not more than you did about Ghost.” You drag your gaze up to his. Even his eyes look a little wet now. “And that… that wasn’t enough for me.”

You suck in a shuddering breath, trying to loosen the tightness in your chest. Clear your throat once you feel the threatening prick of tears subside.

“I didn’t… it wasnae that,” he rasps. “I ken you think I’m full of shite, but ‘s true.”

You do think he’s full of shit. Maybe not on purpose, maybe he really does think he cared about you as much as Ghost, but you know better.

“I was just… so angry wi’ you,” he explains. “You could have died. Nearly got Simon killed, all because you thought you knew better.”

You exhale hard. “You’ve never made a bad call?” you challenge.

“It wasnae your call to make. You should have listened to Ghost. Instead, you—”

“I what?”

Your fingers tingle, numb. Can’t even feel the spoon, or the chill of the yogurt cup anymore.

“You disobeyed orders, it was so—”

“I didn’t.”

He stops. Stares. “What?”

You stare right back, “I didn’t disobey orders.”

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[koling2345]

Haunted

Simon Riley X Fem! Reader

Tw: angst(?), smut, unprotected sex, body descriptions(especially Simon's body🫠), threats mentioned, break up.

Summary: Meeting with your ex after a sudden break-up, what could go wrong?

Wc: 5.4k

A/n:Sorry that this took so long😭 Uni and work are biting my ass recently. Again, sorry for mistakes, it's late, and I'm sleepy but wanted to post. Hope y'all like it.

Simon was a man who always seemed to be grieving, so serious, too stoic, he hardly spoke. But that changed with you, he was gentle, soft, loving, that was just you, just you.

You certainly made a change in his life, in such a good way that Simon wondered if he really deserved someone like you.

But that's Simon Riley's life, where everything he cared about died or left him.

Where nothing he wanted turned out right.And his relationship with you was perfect, you were someone who understood him so well, for some reason you always managed to calm him down when he was in the worst of moods. You were definitely for him.

Everything changed after a mission, it was supposed to be just another terrorist group that he had to stop, but it was different this time. At the time of the mission, everything went smoothly, according to the plan Price had drawn up, almost without a flaw.

The problems began to appear as soon as they got back to base, and after the mission was completed, the team members began to receive threats. Several at once, with no specific address or format.It could be a cell phone message, a piece of paper with something strange written on it, a call that as soon as you answered the phone went silent, just a breath on the other end. Any kind of thing.

Given the kind of job Simon had, this was a fairly normal occurrence, he had enemies left and right, he probably had more enemies than friends at that point. Most of the time these threats were nothing more than bluffs by someone who had been upset by the death of a criminal, friend or family member.

But as every rule has its exception, this time the threats weren't empty.One day at the base, Johnny arrived distressed, saying that his sister had received a threat to her life, and it hadn't been over the phone. The poor girl woke up to a rock being thrown through her window, almost hitting her.

No one knew how they had found Johnny's family, how they had managed to find his confidential information, but they had, and now it wasn't just the boys who were in some kind of danger.

And the situation got worse as the days went by, the next event was with Price, and Gaz soon followed. In the same way, it affected people close to them.Simon was the only one who came out of all this 'unscathed', because before they could find the only important person in his life, you, he made sure to send you as far away from his life as possible.

No matter how painful it was.As much as he hated the decision, there was no way he could go back on it, because that would be putting your safety at risk.

And he certainly couldn't take any chances, he'd seen Johnny's family threatened to be killed, Price's children almost kidnapped, and Kyle's partner stalked. This didn't happen without reason, or by pure coincidence. Simon had been in this line of work for a long time, long enough to know that this was revenge, and there was a good chance that the enemies would only stop when they managed to hurt someone. And he wouldn't risk your life for the world. Not ever.

So it was easier to get away from you, to end the relationship in the most stupid way possible, to make you angry with him, and it was easier to get away from him.Because he knew that if for some reason he told you the real reason for that reaction, there was no way you would agree to break up with him. No way.

In the worst-case scenario, he knew what had to be done, and he did it.He's felt like shit ever since, just remembering the way you started crying and sobbing when he told you he wanted to break up with you was enough to put a lump in his throat.It had been three weeks since he'd done that to you, and even then the feeling didn't go away, if anything, it got worse.

These last few days he'd been drinking more than usual, smoking as many cigarettes a day as Price. It wouldn't be surprising if he had black lung before he was fifty.It was something that eased some of the anguish he was carrying, even if only for a moment.

So today was another Saturday, a day off he'd gotten after working all week, and just like last week, he found himself in the same place, the pub he always came to.He'd already lost count of how many shots he'd had, at which point the bourbon didn't even burn as it went down his throat. Maybe he was a bit tipsy, but not drunk, Simon had a high resistance to such things.

But even the amount of cigarettes and booze he'd consumed that night wasn't enough to inhibit his vision of the silhouette that appeared in the corner of his eye.In any case, at first he thought they had put something strange in his drink, perhaps causing some delirium.But no, it was you, in person.

You looked so beautiful, like a vision of paradise. If he was being honest, seeing you showing off all those curves in a tight dress was enough to make his mind go to dirty places.

Despite this, you didn't seem to see him, too excited about your friends to pay attention to what was around you. Not that he cared, since a small part of him was grateful that you hadn't noticed him, he didn't know if he could bear to see your sad eyes one more time.

So he took on the role of silent observer, standing in the corner as he watched your movements. And, it was eerie, unsubtle, but it was the only way he could see you up close after so long.Simon knew it might be better to leave, because the more time he spent in your presence, the more he wanted to go up to you and grab you, but he controlled himself.

Well, he didn't know until when.

A long time passed, and you still didn't notice him there, until one of your friends whispered something to you, causing you to look at Simon almost immediately. He was without that skull mask that he only wore for work, outside the field the piece of cloth was locked in a drawer.

His eyes were fixed on you, he didn't even bother to disguise it. And you felt like you could map his face just by looking at him, the small scruff of hair growing on his face, the scars he had here and there. One of these was large, running from his cheek to his mouth.But that's what made him unique, the Simon you knew and loved like crazy.

When he broke up with you, it was all so fast, you couldn't understand it. For days you wondered if it was something you had done, because Simon was certainly an enigmatic man, but you knew he would tell you if you had done anything wrong.

The relationship ended with gaps, gaps that you desperately wanted to understand.Simon knew how to avoid you, and he did so over the last few weeks, you went to his apartment several times, you texted him, it was humiliating, but you wanted to understand why he made that decision.

But after a few weeks with no results, you gave up, and now you're here facing him again.Not that you're much of a believer in such things, but you'd like to think that this meeting wasn't in vain, not a coincidence of fate. Maybe this was your last chance to get along with him, and you were going to make it count.

Well, not in the cleanest way in the world, not least because you doubted very much that Simon would talk to you out of sheer will. But that's what friends are for, isn't it? Surely they could help you get the lieutenant's attention.

With that in mind, you and your friend put on a little show, pretending that he'd knocked you down and that you'd hurt your foot in the process. Not that it was difficult, given the heels you were wearing.

After faking the little fall, you saw Simon's expression change for a few seconds, and you knew for sure that he had fallen for your trick. The moment you fell, he almost got up from the stool he was sitting on, almost going to rescue you from the fall.Almost.

And you even said out loud that you were going to the restroom to check, denying your friends' help and pretending to be tough, something Simon hated. Little by little, he fell for your little story.

Maybe you were just a good actress, or Simon was too concerned about everything that involved you. Go on, probably both.

You made your way limply to the restroom, doing your best to pretend you were in pain, as if it were the worst pain you were feeling at the moment. You stayed in the restroom for a good few minutes, hoping and praying that he would come after you.

As you leaned on a stall in the restroom, you didn't hear the door opening, because you were fixated on looking at your cell phone, waiting for a message from him.To your surprise, you only felt strong arms pulling you into the stall, locking you and the person inside.

You were about to scream because you thought it was a stranger, but as soon as you saw those brown eyes you loved so much, all that appeared on your face was a smile.

“You scared me...” You whispered, your voice without any bite or malicious tone, probably all that was in your tone was affection.

He scoffed, looking you up and down, “Apparently your foot is better now.”

You bit your lip, trying to contain the mischievous smile that threatened to appear on your lips.

Even though he treated you like an asshole, you could still feel his love for you in his gaze.

And, oh God, seeing you smile like that made his heart beat faster.When you moved, he looked down and saw that you were back in your high heels, making him frown.

It wasn't long before he put two and two together.

“Little minx.” He mutters, narrowing his eyes at you.

“I think it's sore...” You say, trying to keep up the act that your foot really was hurt. Did you really think you could make a fool of him?

By this point Simon should be used to your antics, or maybe he was playing dumb as an excuse to see you. In any case, he knelt down in front of you, picked up your foot and examined it.

His calloused hands gave you goose bumps, and it didn't get any better when he gently removed your shoe to get a better look at your heel.

And to confirm his suspicion, there was no swelling, it was just you pretending to be hurt.He wrinkled his eyebrows, looking at you, and just when you thought he was going to complain to you, the softest of smiles appeared on his lips, along with a shake of his head.

“Bloody pest...” He said under his breath, his tone betraying the lightness his voice carried, without any bite.

“Ah...Well...I guess I was wrong...” You say back, your voice as weak as that of a child who's just been caught up in something stupid.

Silence fell around you both, the only sound being your breathing in that cramped space.

“Are you all right?” You ask softly, looking at him with nothing but tenderness.It was hard to keep your composure when he was this close, making you sure you were far from getting over him.

And he wasn't too different from you, since it was hard not to remember everything he'd been through with you, all the sweet memories you'd both built up.

“Going.” He murmurs, letting instinct take him as he gently tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, taking a moment to look at you.

To really look at you.

“I wanted to talk to you...” You begin, seeing his expression change to a stoic one as soon as you've uttered the phrase.

You knew it wouldn't be easy to have this conversation with him. Simon knew how to hide his feelings very well when he wanted to.

“We've talked before... There's no need for that now.” His voice was now more serious, harsh.

“No. You talked! I didn't have a chance to respond!” You protested, gripping his arms tightly, as if you could hold that man down if you wanted to.

He grunted, narrowing his eyes at you as he took a deep breath. He wasn't ready to see you sad again, he couldn't take it this time.Simon was definitely a softie when he was with you.

You had him wrapped around your finger.

"Did I... did I do something?” You asked, your voice shaking from the nervousness you were beginning to feel.

He denied it with his head, not elaborating much on his answer.

“What was it then? Was it something that happened? Or... Or is there someone else?” You ask once again, your voice low and small in the face of the possibilities.

What if he had someone else? What if he broke up with you because of this other person?

Simon almost laughed at the absurdity of your question, he couldn't even think of anyone else, after you, there was no one else. No one.

“Nothing like that.” He retorted, looking at you with a certain estrangement. It wasn't possible that you were thinking so lowly of him.Not that he'd given you the best impression in the world recently.

You even asked him other questions, which honestly fell on deaf ears, as he could only watch the way your lips moved, your gloss gleaming in the dim light of the restroom. You were just as perfect as he remembered, if not more so.

No one was ironclad, and he was no different, so he silenced your chatter by bringing his face close to yours, his nose touching yours, his forehead to yours.

“I... Can you kiss me?” You whisper, giving him the best pleading eyes you can manage.

And fuck, looking at your sly little face, your pouty lips, he can't say no.

He couldn't deny you in a million years.Hearing you say please, in such a sweet voice, was enough to get his blood pumping.

When you felt his lips on yours, it was like a little taste of heaven. As soon as his lips moved against yours, it was as if a lever had turned on the two of you, and something gentle and innocent turned into a hot, languid kiss.His hands soon found their way to your hips, pulling you to him as he deepened the kiss even more.

His tongue almost invaded your mouth, roughly exploring every corner inside your mouth. You knew Simon, when he wanted it, he got it. Just as he could be the kindest man in the world to you, he could also be the devil on earth if he wanted to.

When his lips parted from yours, almost painfully, Simon felt a warmth run through his body as he looked at you.

Lips swollen from the kiss, face reddened, your mouth hanging open as you looked on with the slyest eyes you could muster.

Simon knew full well that he should leave, his mind screaming one thing and his heart another, it would be better if he cut off all contact, but he couldn't force himself to do it.

So since he was going to stay, he decided to make a decision. He turned you around, making your back face him.He pushed you against the door, gluing his body to yours, leaving no space between you.

It was better if he didn't see your face while he was taking you, because if he did, he wouldn't be so sure not to take you home.

Of not picking you up and hugging you while the two of you snuggled in his bed, under his covers. In his house. If he really saw your expressions at that moment, all the strength he had would go down the drain.

You felt your body shiver when he started kissing your neck, his warm breath hitting your sensitive skin.

The feel of his tongue on your skin, the way he nibbled and licked your neck, everything he did was enough to make your knees buckle.

“You smell so good...” He purrs, pressing his nose into the crease of your neck, taking a deep inhale.

“Fucking good...” He adds, his voice gradually getting huskier, making your body hair rise at the sensation of the vibration of his voice on your skin.

He simply loved your smell, it was something uniquely yours, he couldn't find it anywhere else. It made him feel at home, feel alive. It drove him crazy.

By now he was hard, feeling his cock throbbing inside his pants, almost begging Simon to get him out of the confines of his clothes.

And well, he was sure you were already wet by then, he could feel your wet panties brushing against him, not that that little dress did much to hide you, especially when you were leaning over like that.

“Did you miss me?” he asked in a purr, making you roll your eyes at his husky voice in your ear.

" A lot... A lot...” You murmured breathlessly, not caring that you looked like a bitch in heat for him.You heard him chuckle behind you, one of his hands going down to your mound, cupping it in his hand.His other hand went to your breast, feeling your hard nipple against the thin fabric of your dress.

“Lower your dress for me, sweet thing...” He murmured, tugging at the straps of your dress, encouraging you to expose yourself to him.

And you did, pulling your dress down to your waist, then letting it fall to your heels.Behind you, he took a deep breath and stepped back, looking at your naked body, covered only by your panties.

No bra, the sight that made him growl, literally. His hands were quick to go to your breasts, taking them in his hands, squeezing and playing with your nipples.

“Nice tits, eh? You wanted to show off for me? Walking around without a bra like that?” He asked, giving your breasts a firm squeeze that made you moan, feeling pain and pleasure at the same time, just the right amount.

“For you... Just for you...” You said under your breath, your hands hovering over his.

Before you could think of anything to say, he leaned into you, holding you tightly and preventing any way you could come up with to get away from him, not that you were even thinking of doing that.

“Pretty little thing...” He grunted, pressing his erection into the middle of your ass, rubbing against you hard, as if he were some animal in heat, out of control, feral. He kissed your jaw, open-mouthed, his breath on your face, his face so close to yours.

You could already feel your mind fogging up, unable to form anything coherent.

He was so focused on it, he didn't even see that you were wetting his jeans, soaking wet, already making a mess of his pants.

“Fucking hell....” He almost hissed behind you, before you could protest he lowered two fingers to your wet surface, teasing you.In a matter of seconds you had two thick fingers hovering over your entrance.

Simon was such a bastard that he knew what you wanted, so he began to tease you slowly, just putting his fingertips into your entrance, only to withdraw them later.

“Si-” you whimper, turning your head a little to look at him in a sly way.And well done, those little eyes sent a wave of warmth straight to his cock.

With your little moan you managed to get him to start massaging your clit in circles, your pussy getting even wetter.

The next thing you felt were his lips trailing down your back, leaving hot, wet kisses, completely sloppy. His hot, uneven breathing on your skin was enough to make your pussy clench into nothing, you wouldn't doubt that you could cum for him for so little.

“You're so beautiful....So beautiful...” He whispered, leaving a trail of hot kisses all over your back, going down and down, leaving a trail of goosebumps everywhere his lips touched.

He was aching, hard as a rock, but he was damned if he wasn't going to taste you before he did anything else.

From kiss to kiss he made his way to your pussy, kneeling behind you as he stared at your glistening hole.

Your legs trembled as he gave your cunt a lingering kiss, the direct contact of his lips with your bottom lips was enough to make your knees shake.The feeling increased even more when he put his tongue on your clit, caressing the sensitive little bud with his wet muscle.

You arched your hips, whimpering as he began to eat you out, in a way that only he knew how to do, not least because he knew every one of your weak points. He was too observant for that.

He took this as an incentive to continue, he began to lap you up like an animal, an animal that hadn't been dined for months.His hands spread your ass cheeks, opening you up in an obscene way, not that you minded. You were in heaven with his every lick, your cunt clenching around his tongue, your mind going a mile a minute as he pleasured you.

With every stroke he grunted behind you, the sounds coming from the back of his throat vibrating in your folds every time he produced them.Simon was a messy eater, your juices glistening on his chin as he fucked you, he kissed, sucked, licked, his mouth worked untold wonders on you.

He knew well enough when you were close, your tight pussy clenching and you whimpering even more, the sweet little moans that were better than anything he'd ever heard.

When you arched your hips once more, his nose going even deeper into your folds, his tongue darting in and out of your cunt, fucking you deliciously.

“Mh-T-Too close.” You stutter, feeling your legs begin to tremble at the sensation of your approaching orgasm.

“Cum.” He murmurs against your flesh, giving your pussy a long lick, only to start lapping at it again.And you obeyed like a puppy, squirting your juices into his mouth without any shame.

And he, even more shamelessly, swallowed it all, without spilling a drop. He literally licked you clean, keeping you nice and open to lick up everything you had to offer.His slurping sounds echoed in your ears, making you wet once again, as if you were a fucking well full of water, always leaking.

“Nice and clean.” Simon murmured, leaning back a little to see the work he'd done, his lips were all wet with your juices, but for him it was a more than delicious sensation.

Well, yeah, you were clean, just for him to get you dirty one more time. His to mess up.

Behind you, the sound of him undoing his pants echoed in the bathroom, making you shiver in anticipation. In fact, you hadn't even been able to stop your legs from shaking after your orgasm.

The soft 'thump' of his belt made you turn your body back a little, watching him undress.He smiled in a cheeky way, not at all ashamed to show off his big, muscular body.

The bastard was cocky enough to know that he had you salivating.And it was no lie.You got all hot and bothered when his jeans fell down, along with his boxers. It was quite a sight. His defined, muscular thighs, and they were so fucking thick.

Not to mention the sign of his cock, all hard and aroused, already leaking pre-cum. It had a pink tip, it was big, large and veiny. Sometimes you wondered how you could handle it.Simon was a big man in every way.

“Don't make me wait...” You whispered, feeling your cunt tighten just looking at him.

If it were any other man, you'd be disgusted at the sight of a full bush, but with Simon you'd get so wet, just remembering the friction you felt when he rubbed against you.

“Don't worry your pretty little head.” He said, patting your pussy, turning you forward once more.Behind you, you could feel the movements of his hand, the strokes he gave his own member, slowly and lazily, all he wanted to do was sink into you.

After a few strokes, he placed the tip of his cock at your entrance, rubbing against you. His pre-cum mixed with your fluids, making a delicious mess that he loved so much.

“Gonna put in, yeah?” he said softly, wrapping an arm around you, his hand gripping your throat and forcing you backwards.His hand was so big it could cover your entire throat, his fingers lifting your chin and forcing your gaze to his, making you even wetter somehow.

His other hand held his hard length in his hands, gently but surely guiding it into you, the tip of it entering you and stretching you, the delicious stretching you did to accommodate him.He pushed in as far as he could, as deep as he could until he was buried deep inside you.

Once he was all the way inside you, he stopped, giving you time to get used to his size as he always did.But today, you don't know what the hell came over you, you couldn't wait, your body and mind begging and pleading for him to move.

“Si....Please?Please...” You beg like a slut with no self-respect, acting exactly like one.

Fuck. To hell with everything.

When he heard you begging so nicely like that, how could he be capable of saying no?His answer was a sharp thrust, drawing out the sweetest of moans, making your eyes roll into the back of your head as he hit all your sweet spots at once.

“Tight as fuck, never changes.” He growls, using the hand that was previously holding his cock to curl around your hips.

Soon you had his fingers on your clit, making small circles, just the right size for you to see stars every time he thrust and massaged you all at once.Your already jumbled mind couldn't think of anything else, all you knew was that your pussy was being deliciously filled, in a way that only he knew how to do. No one else.

Your mouth was hanging open, letting out the most filthy moans, your arms holding on to the wall of the stall, trying to keep yourself upright as he pounded into you, hard.His balls slamming into you was such a dirty, impure sound.

You didn't even want to think what anyone would think if they heard what was happening in that stall.His cock slipped in and out of you, several times Simon took his entire length out of you, just to shove it in all at once. To have the opportunity to see your pussy swallow his cock in one go.

“You're going to get my cock wet, yeah? Are you going to be a good girl and do that?” He asks in your ear, rubbing his nose against your ear.

You tightened around him, letting out another whimper. He gave you a little grin, pulling your hair with his hand, and as soon as he was face to face with you, he kissed you hard.It was a hot kiss, with everything involved, Simon was a completely different man when he was aroused, and he showed it very well.

With the searing kiss, you felt the familiar excitement building in the pit of your stomach. Simon didn't feel much different, at least not with the sensation of your walls nestling him, keeping him comfortable and warm.

It wouldn't take him long to fill you, but you came first.Then his hand slid down to your clit, not leaving you quiet for a second, massaging hard on your swollen bud, making you go to heaven and hell at the same time.

Your gasps were swallowed up by his mouth, his tongue invading your mouth as he slammed into you. His rhythm was brutal, he moved back and forth with no mercy for you, the sloppy thrusts leaving you without a ground.

His fingers on your clit, the hot fucking kisses he was giving you right now, the way he was fucking you, all of it was leading you down one path. And you couldn't help it, there you were, cumming for him once again.You creamed on his cock, wetting his length as you moaned his name like a prayer.

“Good girl.” He purred into your lips, biting back a moan of his own as you tightened around him.

He followed right behind, cumming inside you without any warning, spurting his seed inside you, filling you up.Your legs went wobbly and you almost lost your balance, but he was quick to hold you up, giving you all the support you needed.

“You did good, sweet girl... So good.” He whispers tenderly, kissing you all over your face.

It was so domestic, him whispering and reassuring you softly, saying sweet nothings to you. It would be cute if you didn't have your cunt dripping with his cum, making his eyes darken every time he looked down.

The minutes seemed to pass slowly as the two of you stood like that, holding each other, relaxing as the high subsided.

And you held back so as not to say anything you'd regret later, and he bit his lip so as not to let out a simple, but true 'I love you'.But nothing lasts forever, and you knew you were going to have to leave.

He didn't want to be a jerk, and he wasn't going to leave you alone after having sex with you. That would be completely stupid. But it caused Simon to change from water to wine.

So he helped you clean up and put your clothes back on, waiting for you to say goodbye to your friends so he could take you home. At this point it was every person for themselves, Simon was clearly trying to keep his distance, and he was succeeding.However much it hurt.

The ride to your apartment was silent, nothing but the sound of his motorcycle going back and forth in the city, it was boring, but at least he was with you.

He was even a gentleman, taking you to the door of your apartment, hoping that you were inside, safe and sound. As you should have been.

“Aren't you coming in?” You ask quietly, looking at him almost shyly.

There was no pride in you that was greater than the desire to spend a night with him. Hugging each other, holding each other as if it were the last time.

He looked at you, those dead eyes that carried so many emotions at that moment. But he wasn't going to weaken, not now, no matter how much his heart begged him to accept the offer.

“I just came to bring you home.” He repeated, his fingers itching to caress your cheeks, cup your face and shower you with kisses.But he couldn't.

And that hurt more than any bullet.

He doesn't give you a chance to say anything, he just walks away and takes one last look at you over his shoulder.In the blink of an eye he was already in the elevator, leaving once again.

After that you knew for sure that Simon was an incognito, but something was wrong. He wouldn't act like that, it wasn't like him.

Maybe he'd really had enough of you, and you're too proud to admit defeat. But if he's got something, you'll find out.Even if it means pestering his work colleagues.

But really, not that Simon has noticed, but you're sure he wouldn't do much without his wallet for long.

Oh, and you kind of took it as an excuse to have something to see him.

He'd probably be on your doorstep the next day.

[cmncisspnandmore]

All Hands on Deck- Part 2

Pairings: Poly!141 X Wife!Reader.

Warnings: Smut, this whole things is filth, some angst and fluff thrown in.

A/N: I had no intentions of this Poly141 one shot i wrote turning into a series, but i couldnt get their family out of my head so i started writing and now look at us. 9k words into a part 2. Ooopssss. This is also not beta read, all mistakes are mine.

Word Count: 9713

Part 1

“It’s really not that complicated, Johnny,” Simon sighs, resting his head in his hands, his fingers pushing through the unkempt blonde locks.

“Sod Off,” the scotsman huffs as he grabs the three strands of hair on Kira's head again. You watch over the top of your mug. Two of your husbands are sitting on the couch, your oldest twin Kira sitting on the floor between her Da’s legs. One of your middle children, Isla sat between Simons. Johnny had been trying to learn to braid her hair, something you or Simon did most days.

“Left, over middle, right, over middle, and just repeat,” Simon coaches him, showing him once again on Islas long brown hair. 

“Yeah yeah,” Soap grumbles as he tries again, earning a yelp from Kira.

“Ouch! You pulled my hair!” her hands on top of her head as she turns to glare up at her father. 

“Sorry hen, didn't mean ta,” Soap apologizes leaning down to kiss her forehead. Simon finishes the braids in Islas hair, the 6 year old leaning back against his shins. 

“Daddy i’m bored, can i go play with Theo and Joseph now?” She whines, batting her lashes at him. Simon gives her a small nod, and her smile grows. “Thank you Daddy, good luck Da!” she calls as she scrambles to her feet and flees from the room.

“Isla lets play cops and robbers!” Joseph yells as he meets her in the hallway, he peeks into the room giving you and the others a small wave before he bounds off after his sister.

You take a small sip of your caffeinated beverage, the warm liquid warming your stomach as you drink. John had made you a cup and promptly deposited it into your hands as you walked down the stairs this morning,you were still in your sleep clothes. He had murmured about having to go finish some papers in the office on the 3rd floor before he disappeared. 

“Aye! Look at that!” Johnny exclaims as he ties the hair band around the end of the horribly loose and uneven braid going down Kira’s back. Kira’s hands go to the braid, small fingers running over it, she looks over at Simon, a frown on her face. 

“Well you tried,” Simon laughs, before motioning for Kira to sit in front of him. His large hands carefully pulled the hair band from her hair. He runs his fingers through it and quickly re braids it into a neat french braid. 

“You make it look so easy,” Johnny sighs, looking over at you, “both you and Si can work some witchcraft on their hair that I just can't get the hang of.” 

“It’s alright love,” You smile as you walk over, sitting on the couch next to him. Satisfied with her braid Kira slips from the room, off to join her siblings in their games.

“I just want ta help,” Johnny mumbles, his arm slipping around your waist as he pulls you into his side. 

“I know, but hair is not your thing, and that's okay, you help in many other ways,” you press your lips to his cheek, earning a small smile from him. “It took Simon a while to learn too.”

“Really?” Johnny murmurs his lip brushing across your cheek.

“Oh yeah, after we found out about the twins, and that we were having a girl, I think he spent every night until they were born practicing on my hair. Don't let him tell you he’s just good at it, there were lots of terrible braids and my hair being pulled,” you narrow your eyes at Simon and he gives you a small smirk.

Simon had spent almost every night braiding your hair, or well, trying to braid your hair. The first few weeks he mainly just yanked your hair out while you tried to explain the process to him. Once he made such a huge knot in your hair you were afraid you were going to have to cut it out. Kyle had found you sitting on the bathroom counter, sobbing because you couldn't get the snarls out. Thankfully after an hour of you and Kyle working on the knots you were able to get it out. 

Simon had felt terrible about it, and didn't touch your hair for a week after that. It took you begging him to try again for the man to even brush your hair for you. Eventually he got good at the basic braid and you taught him how to do a french braid and a few other hairstyles. 

“Does that mean i can practice on ye?” Johnny's big blue eyes flutter at you, earning a harsh roll of your own.

“Maybe, if you're good.”

Simon stands from the couch, stretching his large body, black tee shirt pulling taught against his chest. “I’m gonna go shower, Lovie, do you need anything?” He looks down at you in Johnny arms, your head resting on his shoulder.

“No, thank you,” you flash him one of your signature smiles, his own lips curling up slightly at the edges. Simon leans down, his large hands cupping your face as he presses a long slow kiss to your lips. Love, adoration and happiness poured into the kiss, he nips your bottom lip gently as he pulls away. Johnny letting out a low groan at the display.

“Steamin’ Jesus..” the Scotsman groans, his head flopping back against the couch as Simon walks away, your cheeks flushed.

“Such a perv Mactavish,” You laugh, and he lifts his head, narrowing those baby blues at you.

“Can’t help it Mo Chridhe, watching you kiss the others does something to me,” he whispers, large calloused hands gripping your waist as he hauls you into his lap. Your knees settle on either side of his muscular thighs. Your hands resting on his shoulders as he blatantly stares at your breasts. “Shame, Hope’s weaning, I fuckin’ love your tits like this.” 

Air rushes from your lungs, your eyes fluttering shut as Johnny nips at the sensitive skin of your breasts. Your forehead rests on top of his head as his lips tease at the tops of your breasts, “Johnny…” you breathe.

“Miss you hen,” Johnny’s breath tickles your skin as he trails kisses up your chest to your neck. His hands knead the flesh of your waist as he pulls you down against his lap, his cock pressing against you through the fabric of his jeans. 

“The kids…” You breathe, your breath coming out in small pants as his lips sucks on the curve of your neck and shoulder. 

“The others can watch em’ they got their turn with you last night,” He mumbles.

He wasn't wrong, last night Kyle and John ravaged your body like it was lost treasure, the pair of them having cornered you in the kitchen after the kids had gone to bed. Simon was trapped in Theo’s room with the toddler sleeping against his chest, Theo had a cold and had been right miserable all day. Needing to be held by you or one of his dads. Johnny was putting Hope to bed, the now 14 month old going through a sleep regression, needing to be rocked to sleep. You werent exactly quiet as John and Kyle fucked you over the kitchen counter. Taking turns slamming into you, your screams and moans floating up the stairs. You know Simon and Johnny heard you, and it only added to your pleasure. 

A startled squeak leaves your lips and Johnny shifts you, tossing you over his shoulder as he stands from the couch. His hand coming down on your ass with a sharp crack. He carried you through the house, you slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You passed the kids in the playroom, Kyle sitting in a chair in the corner, his eyes lifting from his book as you pass. 

“Da? Why is Mama up there? Was she naughty? Is she going to time out?” Isla wonders, coming to stand in the doorway of the playroom. Her big blue eyes gazing up at you, although your view is mostly upside down you still see Kyle's smug smirk from the chair. 

“Aye Bonnie, She needs a time out,” Soap ruffles her hair with the hand that isn't hooked around your knees. “I’m just bringing her to her room, go play with your siblings. Maybe Dad will bring the lot of you downstairs into the basement for a movie in the theater.”

“Can we watch Encanto?!?! Please Dad!!” Isla yells, bounding over to her Dad. Kyle glares at Johnny, as your children swarm him all calling out different movies they want to watch. Even hope babbles happily at his feet. You give a small wave as Johnny carries you up the stairs towards the master bedroom. 

He flops you down in the middle of the giant bed you had custom made for all of you. You bounce slightly on the light green duvet, a laugh floating through the air. Johnny kicks the door closed, his hands finding the hem of his light blue shirt as he drags it off him. His toned stomach and chest are on display. He stalks towards you, like a lion hunting prey, his blue eyes dark with desire. 

Your cheeks flame, heart pounding against your ribs. Johnny cage's you against the bed, strong arms locking your wrists above your head. His lips brush against yours as he slots his knee in between your thighs. 

“Mmm.. want me all to yourself Johnny?” You whisper, looking at his face through half lidded eyes. 

“For now.. Haven't had you all alone for a while. Not that I mind sharing you with the others… I love watching them work you up, making you moan, bring you to the edge with their fingers, tongue and cocks…” His soft pink lips brush against your skin with each word. A shiver shudders through your body at his words. 

He shifts to hold your wrists with one of his hands, his other coming to squeeze at your breast. He kneads the soft flesh there, a moan dragging from your lips. A small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Steamin’ Jesus, you’re beautiful,” he groans, pressing his face into the side of your neck. Your hips lift to brush against his, earning another small moan your Scottish husband. Johnny kisses up your neck to your mouth, his tongue invading your mouth. Your tongue tangles with his, your breath mingling. Heat sweeps through your body as you grind yourself on Johnny knee between your legs. 

“Need you Johnny…” You whine softly as he slips his hand under your shirt. His cool fingers toying with your nipple. You’ve never been so glad you didn't wear a bra in your life. Your hands are numb from the tight grip he has on your wrists. Body trembling as he kisses you senseless. 

Johnny wasn't always gentle with you in bed, he loved to overstimulate you, pushing you to the edge. He’d love to watch tears roll down your cheeks as you begged him to let you cum. He was probably the worst when it came to edging you, he would go for hours if one of the others didn't step in and save you. He was too impatient for that today, his large hands travel down your body, over the curve of your hips. Fingers slip into the waistband of your sleep short as he harshly tugs them down your legs. 

“So wet for me already, want me to stuff you with my cock? Make you cum all over it?” His voice is raspy as he slides a finger into your slick heat. God those fingers were something else. He always knew exactly where to touch you to make you squirm. 

“Please…” you pant, cheeks flushed, chest heaving.

He curls his fingers inside you before adding 2 more. Your legs tremble as you peek up at him from the mattress. His blue eyes burn into you, white teeth flashing behind his pink lips as he smiles at you. 

“‘M gonna fill you up, put another baby in you just so i can watch your gorgeous tits grow again,” he shifts letting go of your wrists. Your hands tingle and burn as blood rushes back into them. The sound of a belt hitting the floor, the bed dips under his weight as he climbs back over you. His calloused hand grabs the puffy flesh of your thigh, hooking it over his hip.

Johnny moans softly as his hand glides over his thick cock a few times, the tip red and swollen. Precum leaking onto the bed between your thighs. You swore each of your men were hand carved by gods. Your cheeks burn as Johnny looks down at you, your shirt bunched up over your breasts, pupils blown wide.

“Can’t wait anymore Hen, I gotta be inside ya,” Johnny moans, leaning over you once again, his chest brushing yours. The smooth skin of his chest sends tiny jolts of pleasure through you as it drags across your sensitive nipples. You gasp as he slips through your wet folds, a low groan pulled from his lips as he thrusts into you. 

“Fuck, harder,” you moan out, eyes rolling back into your head as he stretches you open. 

You didn't have to tell him twice, he picks up speed, sitting back on his legs as he grips your hips in his large hands. He uses his hands to pull you up his thighs, pounding into you mercilessly. Red hot desire burns in your core, your walls fluttering around his cock. Each thrust brings you closer and closer to your release. He pushes one of your knees to your chest, changing the angle to hit deeper. His right hand leaves your hip so he can use his fingers to circle your swollen clit. 

“You’re like a vice grip on me, dinnae if i can last long Mo Chridhe, you feel too good wrapped around me,” he breathes, his pace brutal.

“Cum for me baby,” You whimper, your own high teetering on the edge. 

His expert fingers circle your clit faster, adding more pressure as he slams his hips into yours. It only takes a few more thrusts before you’re tumbling over the  edge, Johnny groaning his release as falls forward. Shaky arms on either side of your head as his face dips into the curve of your neck.

You both lay there on the bed, Johnny half hard cock still nestled inside you, your chests heaving as you both catch your breath. You trail your hands up his back, fingers sliding into the hair of his mohawk. The damp strands catch on the diamond of your ring.

“You alright?” you laugh slightly, Johnny's entire body weight resting on you. His large form crushing you, but in the best way.

“Think i died and ended up in heaven, must be my guardian angel,” his lips brush against your neck, his stubble tickling you.

“Get off my wife, MacTavish,” Price's voice breaks through your post orgasm haze. The older man stands in the doorway, his back against the white wood door. His arms crossed over his chest, a teasing smile on his lips as he looked over your half naked state and Soaps bare ass.

“Sorry Cap’n, something about this vixen makes me wild,” Soap laughs as he gently pulls out of you, and rolls off you. He flops over on his back, lower stomach glistening with your mess. John rolls his eyes, and leans down plucking a towel from the half full laundry basket by the door and tosses it at Soap. 

“Clean yourself up, Kyle’s stuck in the theater with the kids watching some princess film, and Hope needs a nap.” John walks to the bed, his thighs hitting the edge of the mattress as he wraps a hand around your ankle and yanks you down the bed to him. His light blue eyes trail over your body, his gaze settling on the glistening apex of your thighs. A flare of desire passes over his face before he meets your gaze again. 

“I’ll rescue him, need me some baby cuddles anyways,” Johnny laughs as he pulls on his clothes. He leans over the edge of the bed and presses a chaste kiss to your lips, giving you a wink. “I love you Mo Chridhe,” he smiles, his hand ghosting over your lower stomach as he stands.

You blink a few times, head still fuzzy from your activities with Johnny. The bedroom door closes with a soft click, leaving you alone with John. His rough fingers trail up the smooth skin of your calf to your thigh. Skimming over the curve of your hip and settling on the side of your ribcage. His palm rising and falling with each of your breaths.

“Johnny take care of you Darlin?” He murmurs, thumb brushing over the side of your breast.

“He did, are you here to have your way with me too?” You breathe, teeth sinking into your plush bottom lip as you blink up at him. 

“I wish I could Darling, I want nothing more than to make you scream my name, have my cum dripping out of you. But I have to get to base, Laswell called and said she had something for me to look at, but couldn't discuss it on the phone.” He sighs, his fingers trailing to your hands and he gently pulls you up. 

God he hates the way your brows furrow, a small frown on your beautiful lips. He hates that he has to go, but they’ve been home for almost 5 months now. It was only a matter of time before something like this came up. He wished he could retire, the entire task force. But they were needed. He knew it. The rest of them knew it. You knew it. But it didn't make it any easier, knowing that one day your perfect bubble would pop. That your men would have to rush out the door at some ungodly hour to run headfirst into danger. It seemed to get harder and harder as each kid grew to understand what their dads did. How they might not come back. 

You let out a long breath, and force a smile onto your face. “I understand, can I entice you into a shower with me before you leave?” 

The look on your face was enough to make any man fold, let alone one as hopelessly in love with you as John was. He couldn't resist your big wide eyes blinking up at him, thick long lashes fluttering. He couldn't say no to you, even if he would get his ass chewed out by Laswell for being late.

“Simon better make room,” He chuckles, hands gripping your waist as he hauls you into his arms. Not caring that your bare cunt is leaking cum all over his shirt and jeans. He tosses his boonie hat onto the bed, your legs wrapping around his waist as you press your face into the side of his neck. His beard tickles your skin, as he shoves open the bathroom door. 

Simon glances up in the mirror, a light gray towel slung low on his hips. Board chest and back on full display as he watches his captain carry you into the steam filled bathroom. His brown eyes track you in the mirror until Price sets you down on the cool quartz countertop next to him. 

“Hi Lovie, you look thoroughly fucked, did John do this to you?” Simon muses, his chapped lips brushing your temple.

“No,” you chirp, a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Johnny got his hands on me, John’s going to shower with me. Care to take another?” You muse, earning a small chuckle from the tall blonde next to you.

“Wish i could Lovie, but I promised a very persistent 7 year old I would take her and her twin to the library so they can get a new book,” he roughly towel dries his hair with a smaller towel before he hangs it on a hook. 

Yu jut out your lower lip, “okay, fine,” you pout. 

“Don’t pout, your mouth is far too pretty for that. I’d much rather it be wrapped around my dick tonight,” Simon practically purrs in your ear. His teeth nipping your earlobe in promise. Price returns, and shares a look with Simon in the mirror before he stacks a fresh set of clothes for the both of you on the counter. 

“Be a good girl, I love you,” Simon kisses your lips softly before he leaves the bathroom.

“Love you,” You call after him as steam starts to billow out of the large walk-in shower, hot water cascading from the multiple shower heads. John settles between your thighs and grips the hem of your pajama top, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. Your own hands travel to the buckle of his belt as you quickly unlatch it, yanking it from the waist of his jeans and letting it tumble to the floor with a metallic clink.

Your deft fingers quickly undo the button and fly, one hand slipping into the opening to palm his half hard cock through his boxers. Your tongue darts out as you notice the wet spot on the front of his jeans from your and Johnny's mixed releases.  John inhales sharply, large hands wrapping around your wrist.

“Darling,” he warns, his voice low and tight.

“What?” You blink up at him, feigning innocence.

“We have to shower now if you want me to join you, can’t keep Laswell waiting all day..” He warns, but you don't stop. His cock growing under your tender touches. 

“We can shower…”  You purr, leaning forward your lips gently grazing the top of his boxers. John's abs contract as your breath tickles his happy trail, the smattering of dark hair that disappears under his boxers. Your tongue pokes out, licking a small wet line over his boxers, his now hard cock jumping as your warm tongue flicks over the tip through the fabric. 

The growl that leaves John's lips is almost feral as he grabs your hips and yanks you off the bathroom counter. He spins you, your hip bones hitting the edge of the counter, a delicious sting as they bite into the corner. John's gaze meets your in the mirror, his jaw set in a hard line, one hand pressing into the space between your shoulder blades. He forces you to bend over the counter, his gaze never leaving yours. 

“You spoiled brat, you want to be fucked is that it?” He grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back. “Want me to fuck you into the bathroom counter like the slut you are?” He tugs sharply on your hair, a gasp forcing itself from you.

“Yes, god, yes,” You moan, nipples hardening as they slide against the cold counter.

“I won't be gentle with you, I have things to do, I'm a busy man,” he warns, but it does nothing but excite you. It wasn't often you pushed John, you usually understood when he said he had things to do. But a part of you craved it when he was rough with you. John was most always gentle with you. As if he was afraid to break you, treating you like something to be savored. It was Simon who you often turned to when you needed someone to throw you around, leaving bruises on your skin. But there was a side to Price only you could draw out, when you knew he was stuck in his head of the things he needed to do. Lost in the responsibility of being Captain to the others, the one who inevitably makes the call for them to leave your home and storm into a warzone.

It didn't take much sometimes, just a little bratty behavior when you knew he was in a hurry. If you had been a good girl like Simon suggested you would have climbed into the shower without protest. Let John wash you tenderly under the stream of the shower and kiss you goodbye as you blow dried your hair. But instead you had pressed him, edging the line of his control by palming him through his boxers. The kitten lick through the thin fabric was the final straw for him. 

Now as he pulled his shirt off, and shoved his jeans and boxers down to the floor you can't help but pant. You never take your eyes off him as he glares at you through the fogging mirror. One hand gripped in your hair, the other wrapped around his throbbing cock. 

“This what you wanted? Getting me all worked up when you know I have to leave?” He asks, giving himself a few harsh strokes. Your eyes trail over his hand, your brain short circuiting as you watch him jerk his cock.

A sharp sting across your ass makes you yelp, johns palm cracking across the silky smooth flesh. “Asked you a question, I expect an answer,” he grinds out.

Y-yes sir,” your words tumble from your dry lips, tongue feeling stuck as he lines himself up with your still wet pussy. He nudges your entrance, and your eyes flutter shut. The tip of his cock slipping between your wet folds.

“Eyes on me,” he demands, and your eyes fly open at the exact moment he slams his hips home. A loud moan falling from your lips as he pounds into you. His hand is still gripping your hair. Your hip bones bite into the rounded edge of the sink. The sound of your skin slapping together fills the bathroom along with the water in the shower. The mirror starts to fog with your breath and the steam from the hot water. The mix of John’s cock driving into you and the humid air of the bathroom makes you dizzy. Your fingers dig into the smooth sink, grasping for purchase. John's cheeks flush as he continues his harsh assault on your body. 

“You take my cock so well, such a good little cum slut,” He rasps. Your eyes roll back into your head as he releases your hair. His hands wrap around the curve of your hips so he can thrust into you harder. You were definitely going to be bruised later. But you didn't care, the sight of John losing himself in you was everything to you. 

His fingers dig into your hip bones, short nails leaving small crescent shapes on the delicate flesh. “You like it don't you? Huh? Like the feel of my cock filling you up, want my cum to drip from your tight cunt like Johnnys, huh Darling? Want us to fuck another baby into you?’ his hand comes down on your already red ass cheek, a biting sting, he doesn't bother to soothe the red skin. His smile grows as his hand print leaves a raised welt, if there was one thing in common between all of your husbands was they loved marking you. 

Whether it was Kyle leaving tiny love bites across your stomach and thighs. Simon's finger prints bruised into your waist. John's handprints on your ass. Or Johnny's teeth marks across the plains of your breasts. They all had their subtle or well not so subtle ways of letting the others know they were there.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum already, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” John pants, his thrusts becoming erratic as he gets closer to the edge. “Touch yourself, make yourself cum all over my cock like the good little slut you are.” 

Your eyes watch his face in the mirror as you slide a hand between your thighs and rub fast, tight circles on your clit. Your fingers gliding effortlessly over the swollen nub, the mix of you and Johnny making the perfect lubricant. It only takes you moments to work yourself to the edge, your body practically humming already. 

John shifts his hips slightly, hitting that spot inside you that drives you crazy. You both fall over the edge with a shout. John's hips slamming into yours with one last rough thrust as he stills inside you. His cock twitching, your walls milking him. You collapse forward, gasping breaths wracking your body. 

John reaches forward, brushing the hair from your cheek. His fingers tuck the loose strands behind your ear. “Didn't hurt you, right?”

Your other cheek is pressed firmly against the smooth bathroom counter, the overhead lighting reflecting off the mica embedded in the white quartz. You give a small shake of your head. “No, I knew what I was getting myself into,” You push yourself up on shaky arms as John  slips from between your legs. The mixture of his and Johnny's cum dripping down your thighs. 

A harsh knock on the bathroom door breaks the moment.

“Price? Laswell called again, said she couldn't get ahold of you, asked me to tell you she needs you on base Asap,” Kyle's voice drifts through the bathroom door and you groan, turning to face John.

“Rain check on the shower, Darling?” Price’s fingers grab your chin softly.

“Rain check,” You agree leaning up on your toes to press a kiss to his mouth. He pulls away all too soon for your liking, wiping himself off with a towel before pulling on his clothes. Pulling open the shower door you step into the hot stream, your body shaky and numb from the mind blowing orgasms. You tip your head back allowing the hot water to wet your hair, your eyes closed. 

A soft hand slips around your waist, your eyes popping open to see Kyle. His short black hair is dotted with water that bounces off you. A smile forms on your lips as he gently pulls you toward him. The hard expanse of his chest is a welcome home for your head. He doesn't say anything for a few minutes, just holds you under the hot stream. His fingers absentmindedly stroking your soft skin. 

“It sounds to me like you had a very eventful morning,” Kyle teases, his lips brushing your forehead. 

“Oh? What makes you say that?”

“You know how Johnny is after he gets his way with you, he's like a kid in a candy store. He’s put Hope down for her nap and then proceeded to offer to bake cookies with Isla and Theo. Knowing full well he was going to have to clean the kitchen after that fiasco.” Kyle laughs, “and you weren't exactly quiet with John a moment ago.” 

Your cheeks grow hot, even after all this time you still couldn't help but feel shy when the other men knew what happened without them. It's not that you were ashamed, it was more to do with your upbringing. Your parents were strict, sex was a taboo subject, you didn't even know the basics until they taught you in health class. Your parents weren't a huge part of your life, they chose to put distance between you and your family when they found out you were dating 4 men.

They showed face at your wedding though, playing the doting parents of the bride. But the cold shoulder your mother gave you when you told her you were expecting her first grandchildren told you everything you needed to know. They weren’t okay with how you chose to live your life, they just cared more about their image.

“Where did you just go?” Kyle asks, his fingers under your chin tipping your face up to his.

“Hmm?” you hum, brows furrowed. 

“You got stuck in your head, where did you go?” His own brows furrow as he studies you. His long fingers brushing a drop of water from your cheek.

“I was just thinking about my parents…” you shrug halfheartedly. You tried not to let them bother you, telling yourself that you were better off without them. That your kids didn't need that in their life, they had 2 sets of wonderful grandparents who loved them more than anything. Johnny and Kyle's parents would find a way to give the kids all the stars in the sky if they could. 

“Baby,” Kyle breathes, his face coming closer to yours. “You don't need them, don't get lost in their ignorance.”

“I know.. Just.. I don't know,” You mumble, biting the inside of your cheek hard, the coppery tang of blood distracting you.

“Let me make it better,” he whispers, lips skimming yours. Kyle's kisses were always soft and sweet, just like him. His lips are as smooth as butter, as soft as cotton candy. He always took his time with you. Each movement is carefully thought out to bring you the most pleasure. His hands tangle in your wet hair, but unlike John there's no sharp sting. Just tender touches along your scalp as he slips his tongue into your mouth. 

The low moan that vibrates through your chest is enough to encourage him to continue. Kyle's fingers trail down your neck and spine to the curve of your ass. His fingers knead the soft flesh there, soothing the raised handprints left by Price. His fingers grip your thigh softly as he hikes it up over his hip, allowing his hard cock to brush against you.

“Kyle… please,” You whisper, rolling your hips into him.

“I’ve got you, Baby,” he whispers against your mouth. He turns you slowly, your back hitting the cool tile wall of the shower. He captures your swollen lips in another searing kiss, as one arm lips behind your back, causing you to arch into him. His other hand wraps around his thick cock as he slides into you. You moan into his mouth, your kiss becoming more clashing teeth and harsh breathing than before. Your hand grip his muscular shoulders, your nails biting into the smooth brown skin. You can feel his muscles flex and contract under your fingers as he languidly slides in and out of you. 

“You’re so good to us,” he whispers against your skin, ‘always taking care of us, take such good care of our babies when we're away. You’re ethereal, a true goddess on earth just for us.” 

Kyle's praise brings tears to your eyes, what did you possibly do to deserve him? Or any of them? Kyle drags his hips along yours, and your legs begin to shake. Your body was spent, between Soap and Price, you weren't sure if you had any more in you. But it doesn't stop Gaz, he just picks up his pace slightly. Nothing compared to either of the men before him, but enough that the coil in your stomach is now twisting tighter, and it’ll only be a matter of moments before you shatter in his arms. 

Gaz’z lips trail down your jaw and neck as he sucks along the smooth skin there. Quiet pants being coaxed out of you with each one. His lips seal around your nipple, sending a jolt of electricity skittering across your skin. 

“Fuck, Ky- I cant,” you whine, the burning in your core too much, as he drags his cock out of you before pushing back in at an agonizingly slow pace. His teeth graze your nipple as he pulls away. His mouth peppering your chest with wet open mouth kisses. His saliva mixes with the warm water leaving your chest shiny under the bathroom lights. 

“Yes you can Baby, I know you can. Just one more, for me,” he coaxes, his hand slipping between you, to rub your overly sensitive clit. His fingers tapping with the lightest of touches, and you break. Your walls are clamping down on him. Tears roll down your cheeks as you come with his name on your lips. 

His hips stutter as he follows you over the cliff, his own orgasm ripping through him as he lets your leg fall. Both your feet now firmly on the ground as he presses his forehead to yours. You both pants, the air between you becoming stifling with the humidity from the shower. You wrap your arms around his chest, allowing your head to lay over his rapidly beating heart. Your hair clinging to his skin as he adjusts the shower head above you, allowing more hot water to pour over the both of you. 

You stay like that until you're both able to breathe normally, and Kyle begins to gently wash you. He brushes the plush washcloth that's lathered in vanilla scented body wash over your body. He kneels in front of you, gliding the cloth up your legs to your thighs and ass. He's gentle where prices hands have left a mark. 

He presses small kisses to the bruises that are forming on your hips from the countertop. Before he stands, pouring some strawberry scented shampoo into his hands and working a rich lather into your hair.You both enjoy the quiet, neither one talking much except for when giving instructions to rinse off. 

After you return the favor of washing Gaz, he gets out of the shower, pulling two towels from the warming rack and wrapping one around his waist. The other he secures around yours. He spends the next 30 minutes lathering you with lotions and blow drying your hair. He glances at you through the bathroom mirror as he pushes up the sleeves of his shirt. His white teeth flashing at you as he smiles.

“You alright baby?” 

You nod, pulling on one of Simon's oversized black hoodies. It falls to the tops of your thighs, and you have to roll the cuffs of the sleeves up so you can use your hands. Kyle presses a kiss to your cheek, his warm lips lingering on your cheek for a moment.

“You look tired. Why don't you lay down for a nap?” he suggests, his fingers twirling a piece of your hair. 

You could use a nap, but you have things to do. Anxiety gnaws at you, you know that they’ll be leaving soon. It's not hard to interpret the messages behind Kate wanting to see John on base. That's how it normally went, she would ask him to come to base to discuss something. John would disappear for a few hours, sometimes late into the night before he came home.  He would talk to the others first, usually Simon, then Kyle or Johnny whoever he could find first. Then he would seek you out. He’d pull you into him, his beard tickling your cheeks as he peppered your face with kisses. 

Then he’d lay it on you, tell you that they were shipping out, either in the morning or in the next few days. You always tried to be strong, to put on a brave face especially if the children were still awake. Then you would watch as he told each of the children what was going on. Kira and Joseph would hold their younger siblings as they cried, begging their fathers not to go. Your heart shattering in your chest as you watch the four men in your life try to reassure them that they would be back. Eventually the younger kids would settle, the twins distracting them with games or snacks. 

It wasn't until they had left, and the kids were all in bed that you allowed yourself to fall apart. Huddled alone in your giant bed, surrounded by their pillows that you would let the tears fall. Sometimes one of the kids would climb into bed with you, their own attempts at comforting themselves. The time where your husbands were gone felt like wading through chest high mud. Each action needs twice the amount of effort than normal. You didn't have enough hands it seemed, there was always someone needing something. Someone had practice or a project they needed done. A baby was sick or going through a milestone. A faucet would leak or you’d forget entire meals when grocery shopping. You chew your bottom lip, spinning your engagement ring and wedding band around your ring finger. 

“No i'm okay, I’m gonna go see if Johnny needs any help with Theo and Isla,” you smile softly pressing a quick kiss to Kyle’s cheek before slipping out of the bathroom.

You can hear Johnny talking with Isla and Theo, his accented voice easy to pick out. You pad down the hallway to the kitchen. From the large archway you see Johnny standing behind Isla and Theo who stand on little helper stools. Theos light brown skin is dusted with flour, and his brown curls are pushed out of his face with a pair of bright purple bunny ears. Isla peers over the bowl, her finger dipping into the dough. A glob of cookie dough makes it way into her mouth, a sly smirk on her lips as she thinks Johnny didn’t see her.

But the demolition expert did see it, you can tell by the way his mouth slants upwards, the slight shake of his head. Theo reaches into the bowl, his little fist gripping the chocolate chip cookie dough like it was a life line. But instead of shoving it into his mouth he uses his other hand, attempting to roll the dough into a ball. It squishes through his fingers and lands with a wet plop on the counter. His big brown eyes look up in panic as the sticky dough clings to his hands. 

“Oi lad made a fine mess of yerself don’t ya?” Johnny laughs, scraping the excess dough from Theos outstretched hands. 

“Da, do you think mama will like the cookies?” Isla wonders, using a dough scoop to scoop out portions of cookie dough, she plops them on a baking sheet. A little too close together but Johnny just moves the small mounds over a bit.

“I think she’ll love em, your mama loves everything you make for her,” he ruffled her hair with his clean hands. Coming to stand behind Theo as he helps him scoop out his own dough with another scoop.

“Sometimes when all of you leave, I can hear Mama crying… Papa left to go see aunt Kate.. that means you’ll leave again soon…” Isla looks down at the cookie sheet, her bottom lip between her teeth. You can see her shoulders rise as she takes a deep breath.

“It’s okay to be sad when we leave, lala girl. Sometimes Mama’s get sad too,” he crouches down next to her, his finger hooking up her chin as he looks at her.

“Why do you leave if it makes Mama and us sad?” She leans into his hand, her smaller hands coming to rest on his cheeks. Theo jams the cookie scoop into the bowl too young to understand the conversation.

“Well, papa, Daddy, Dad and I have really important jobs. And those jobs sometimes make it so we have to go far away to capture bad people, and stop them from hurtin others. Like how Batman stops the joker, and police officers catch bad guys.”

“Olice Officer! Wee woo wee woo!” Theo yells, the scoop clattering to the counter, as he claps.

“That’s right, “ Johnny laughs, “but we’ll always come back to you, you guys and your Mama are the most important things in the world to us. So we try our hardest to always come back. Can you do me a favor tho Lala girl?” He asks, and Isla nods eagerly.

“The next time you hear your Mama cryin’ I want you to give her the biggest hug ever okay? And don’t be afraid to tell her it’s okay to be sad too. I think sometimes Mama forgets she can be sad, because she’s so busy trying to make sure none of you bairns are sad.” Johnny gives her a soft smile.

“I can do that Da, can we finish the cookies now?” She grabs the scoop again and looks at Theo and Soap.

“Of course,” he smiles again and you duck out of the archway, just out of sight. Your eyes burn, but you blink back the tears and take a moment to compose yourself. You didn’t realize that Isla had heard you crying. You tried desperately to be quiet, but Islas' room was across the hall and she must've heard you while she went to the bathroom. 

You take another deep breath and step out into the kitchen with a smile on your face as you walk to the large kitchen island.

“Mama! Mama!” Theo yells, “We are making you cookies!” 

“Cookies? For me? Thank you baby,” You lean down pressing a kiss to his messy curls, the purple bunny ears poking you in the face. You look over the 4 large cookie sheets that are dotted with cookie dough.

“Wow it looks like you guys made enough for everyone, huh?” You smile at Isla and she nods. 

“Yeah! Da said we had to triple the recipe because there are soooo many of us,” She explains, scooping another ball of dough from the large metal bowl. 

“That's true, there are a lot of people in our house. Do you know how many?” You slip into a bar stool, your eyes catching Soaps above Theos head. He gives you a panty dropping smile and a wink.

“Uh,” Isla thinks hard for a moment, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. “Theres Me, Theo, Kira, Joseph and Hope, that's 5… Mama, Papa, Dad, Daddy and Da. That's 5 too… and 5 plus 5 makes 10!” She beams. “There's 10 people who live in our house. Right Da?”  She looks over her shoulder.

“That's right Lass, 10 people so far,” he raises his eyebrows suggestively at you.

“So far? What does that mean? Why are Mama’s cheeks so red?” She scrunched her brows looking between you and Johnny.

“Nothing baby, Da is just being silly,” you roll your eyes. Isla shrugs and goes back to her job. Between her and Theo it doesn't take long for the cookie dough to be laid out on every cookie sheet you own. You help Johnny by putting them in the large commercial size stove, even with your giant oven you can only fit 4 cookie sheets at a time. After Johnny cleans up Theo and Isla he starts to work on the dishes, you perch yourself on a bar stool and watch as he methodically washes each dish. 

The sounds of Theo and Isla playing floats through the house as they play in the large playroom at the front of the house. Kyle comes into the kitchen and places his hands on your hips, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. 

“The cookies smell good, good to know Johnny didn't mess them up,” he teases. Johnny looks over his shoulder narrowing his eyes at Gaz.

“Oi, it was one time, and it wasn't even my fault!” He huffs.

“No you’re right you just decided to let the twins measure everything out and they put half a cup of salt instead of a teaspoon,” Kyle laughs.

“Shall we talk about your lasagna, then?” You look up at Kyle and his smile drops.

“You said you wouldn't bring that up,” he grumbles, his hands squeezing your waist softly.

“Did i?” You feign innocence, batting your lashes at him.

“Cheeky woman,” Kyle mutters, peppering your face with feather light kisses.

“Keep that up and I might have to steal you for round 2..” Soap's voice is rough and low as he looks at you and Kyle.

Your cheeks blush for what feels like the millionth time today, and you shake your head. “You’re insatiable,” you roll your eyes, slipping from the stool and walking towards the door. “Don't let the cookies burn!” You call over your shoulder.

“Ah Steamin’ Jesus!” Johnny curses.

You walk down the hall, peeking your head into the playroom, to see Isla and Theo sitting in a large bean bag chair, Theo peering over the edge of the learning tablet Isla is playing with. A smile plays at the corner of your lips as you walk towards the staircase. You slowly climb the stairs, pausing briefly at Hope's bedroom door to look in. The 14 month old lays on her stomach, her bum up in the air, stuffed bunny tucked in her arms as she sleeps. You quietly close the door and climb the second staircase up to the 3rd floor of your house. There were 3 rooms up here, a small half bath, John’s office, and a guest room used only when Kyle or Johnny's parents came to visit. 

You pull open the french doors to John’s office, stepping into the warm room. The hunter green walls lined with heavy oak bookshelves, his large desk sat in the middle of the room facing the floor to ceiling window. An old leather couch sits along one wall and you sink into the soft brown leather. Your fingers brushing across the cracked and worn material. You pull the fluffy green blanket off the back and wrap it around yourself. Your knees pulled up to your chest, your chin resting on top of them as you stare at the landscape outside the window.

Your fingers picking at the loose threads on the blankets. You came up here to get some alone time. No one usually ventures into John's office when he isn't home. Your mind drifts as you watch the fluffy white clouds roll by. Your eyes grow heavy as you enjoy the quiet.

You must've dozed off, your body jolting awake when a hand touches your shoulder. Your head whips up, eyes meeting a pair of dark brown ones.

Simon. Those eyes belonged to Simon.

The tension leaves your shoulders as he crouches next to the couch, his broad shoulders block the light from the window. His blonde eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. Those dark eyes studying every part of your face. 

“Hi,” you whisper, voice still thick with sleep.

“Hi Lovie, you alright?” He asks, his large hand taking your much smaller ones.

“I’m okay, tired,” you shrug, your fingers wiggling against his palm. “How was the library?”

“Good, Kira and Joseph got 2 books each, and they brought home a few for the younger kids. They’re all in the kitchen eating cookies with Kyle and Johnny. Are you sure you’re okay?” He squeezes your hands again. 

You sigh, Simon had a way of seeing right through you. Your other husbands did too, but they often erred on the side of caution when it came to confronting you about it. At some point or another they had pushed just a little too hard when you were having a bad day and you snapped. Basically chewing their heads off before you burst into tears. The other 3 had panicked, not sure what to do, their efforts to comfort you had ended with you hitting their chest as you told them to go away. Cursing at them for pushing you on things you weren't ready to talk about. They had quickly learnt that you would come to them when you were ready. But Simon on the other hand didn't care. He welcomed your outburst, taking each emotion with stride. He’d let you beat on his chest until your arms hurt. Until your anger gave way to your true emotions. 

“No.. im not okay,” you relent. Simon just looks at you, waiting for you to explain.

“I know you're going to be leaving soon, and I know at this point I should be used to it. It's been 8 years of deployments. But it doesn't get any easier.. And now the kids are starting to get to the age where they ask questions, wanting to know what you guys do while you're gone. They're starting to understand that what you're doing is dangerous. I don't know how I'm supposed to explain to them what happens if one of you doesn't come home…” you trail off, feeling a weight settle on your chest.

“I can't promise we’ll come home, I won't lie to you and tell you that we will. I’ve never sugar coated that. But you’re stronger than you think Lovie, I know that you can handle everything here. You’re an amazing Mum to our kids. You’re so kind to them, so patient. I know it's hard when we're away. But I promise we won't be doing as many missions as before. Price has had a few meetings with Kate about us stepping back, training a new team to take our place. We don't want to lose any more time with you and the kids. Besides, I've heard through the grapevine that we have a more important mission here.” He brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Oh? What's that?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Something about knocking you up again,” he smiles like a cat who got the canary. He shifts forward on his knees. Large hands pawing at your sides as he drags you down the couch. His hand flicking open the button of your jeans. Your chest heaves as he leans forward pressing a soft kiss to the skin below your navel. Goosebumps erupt on your skin Simon flicks his tongue out, wetting your skin.

“Simon…” You breathe, your hands tangling in his soft blonde hair. 

“I know Love,” he murmurs against your skin, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your jeans and panties, tugging them down in one swift motion. You reach for his own waistband, undoing his belt in one swift motion. His brown eyes burn into you as he slides his hand up the inside of your thighs and drags them through the wetness that pools between them.

“Such a good girl for me, always so ready for me,” Simon praises, his eyes straying to the bruise marks on your hips from when John fucked you into the bathroom counter. “Looks like someone already played rough with you today. How did that to you Love? Those weren't there when i left you in the bathroom this morning, tell me was it Kyle or John who bruised that pretty skin of yours.” He slips a finger into you, and you groan, your inner walls fluttering around his thick digits.

“John..” you moan as he curls his fingers into you hitting that spot that makes you see stars.

“Did Kyle fuck you too?” He asks, his other hand palming his hard cock through his boxers. 

“Mmmm, yes..” you pant, your hands wrapping around his wrist as he fucks you with his fingers. 

“Must be my turn then, huh,” he kisses you softly, his lips slanting over yours for a moment, stealing your breath away. “Want me to fill you up? Stuff you full of my cum like the others? Fuck a baby into you?” 

“Ahh- yes, Si.. Please,” you gasp and pant. Back arching off the couch as you press your hips into his hand. Grinding your clit against the heel of his palm.

“Fuckin’ hell, such a good girl,” Simon groans as he pulls his hand from your dripping pussy. Shoving his jeans down his thick thighs, he grabs your ankles spinning you on the couch so your back presses into the cushions. Your thighs spread, ass hanging off the seat. He leans up on his knees, his cock nudging your tight entrance. One hand grips the flesh of your thigh as he holds you from falling off the couch. The other wraps around the column of your throat. He gives it a gentle squeeze, not enough to cut off oxygen just enough to restrict it as he bullies his cock into you. 

Your vision blurs as he thrusts into you, his pace steady and even as he fucks you into the couch. Loud moans tear from your throat as he pounds into you. Your body trembles as his cock rubs against your walls. 

“Cum for me beautiful,” He grunts, applying more pressure to your throat. Tiny black pin pricks dance in your vision as he picks up his pace. Your legs trembling, Simon's brown eyes stare into you, his hips faltering as he gets closer to the edge. You moan loudly, air flooding your lungs as he releases your throat, and rubs tight fast circles on your clit. Your body tingles from head to toe as your orgasm rips through you. 

“Fuck!” Simon shouts as he stills inside you, his release painting your walls with thick white ropes of cum. He leans down pressing his forehead to yours as he breathes heavily. You stay like that for a moment, catching your breath as your legs stop trembling. 

“I love you,” you whisper, pressing your lips to his once more.

“I love you too,” he whispers back.

You and Simon change into your clothes, and he settles you in his lap, big arms wrapped around your waist as you snuggle into him. Your quiet moment doesn't last long, the tell tale sound of boots on the stairs causes both of you to look over at the glass doors. John stands just outside of them, Hope resting on his hip, a small smile on his face as he takes in the sight of you and Simon on the couch. Hope babbles happily in his arms, her chubby fingers grabbing at the brim of his Boonie hat. He pulls open the doors and steps into the room. Hope clapping her hands as she sees you. 

“Mamamamama” She babbles, reaching out to you, and you open your arms for her. John carefully puts her in your lap and brushes his fingers along your cheek. You glance up your eyes meeting his own, and that's when you see it, the hard lines around his eyes, the rigid set of his jaw as he watches you. 

“When do you leave?” You ask softly, focusing your attention on the baby in your arms as she yanks on your shirt.

“Later tonight, after the kids are in bed,” he sighs, “I'm sorry Darling, I tried to get out of it. But Laswell needs us.” 

Simon presses his face into your shoulder. There goes your bubble. Popped.

Next: Part 3

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 13

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 2.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ brief sexual content. This fic contains mature themes. Simon POV. Established throuple, relationship issues, fighting. Feelings of anxiety, despair. Crying. Johnny comes home

The holster is snug.

Simon pats it affectionately, swallowing roaring nausea, trying to stay limber on his feet.

He’s fine. He’s probably just at the gym, or the down the street. He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself, he's working himself up for nothing. 

He sends another text, just in case.

>Getting worried now. Where are you? 

It’s not like him, not responding. Not like him to vanish when he said he was staying in, not like him to not text with an update about where he’s going and how long he’ll be.

He knows Simon. Knows he he’ll get twisted up, get caught up in a vicious cycle of memory and fear, knows he’ll be worried.

Doesn’t he know? 

It’s not like him.

What if he’s hurt? What if someone snatched him, drugged him, loaded him into a box somewhere? What if someone is hurting him right now, and he’s scared, while all Simon is doing is pacing around in this godforsaken flat that’s too big for him to be comfortable in alone, what if he’s de-

A key clicks in the lock.

Simon is on his feet and in the hall before the door gets a chance to fully open.

He can hear his pulse, the hammer inside his skull, ticking away like a bomb, a new brand of fear: sickly and infectious, spreads from his heart, leeching into his body.

Johnny is crying.

“What’s wrong?” Simon keeps him at arm’s length for inspection, like he's looking him over in tac gear, triple checking his plates, his straps, his safety pieces. “Are you hurt? What’s happened?” Johnny doesn’t speak, raw, serrated breaths coming in and out too quickly, and Simon holds him steady, firm grip on his shoulders. “Johnny, love. Look at me.”

Control this. Contain it. Fix it. 

“I-m- I-“ The words are stilted, too thick, getting caught in Johnny’s throat, and Simon repeats himself, switching gears, shifting. His tone is stronger, unaffected. Battle tested.

“Are you hurt?” It straightens Johnny. Snaps him to attention, and he blinks, still the beautiful, sweet boy with tears in his eyes, looking up in Simon’s face, wracked with despair.

“No. No, ‘m, not hurt, Si. Not hurt.”

Not hurt. But not okay. 

He can save that for another moment. Another day if he has to. He’s okay. He came back. He’s here. 

Johnny’s eyes dive a deeper shade of blue when he cries. They become shards of stained glass, a sea blue that holds a million miles worth of passion, of feeling, of love.

Their mouths touch. Seeking, hesitant longing, desperately trying to connect, and Simon jerks away, cradling his face, holding him still.

It’s dread that fills Simon now. Dread and fear, snaking together to form a hydra that never sleeps, never dies. You cut off one head, another two emerge, and he cannot control them. Cannot tamp them down.

“What’s happened, love? What’s wrong?”

“Si, I… I made a mistake.” Simon closes his eyes.

“What did you do?” It’s not a question, it’s a demand.

Confess your sins and be forgiven. 

“I went to see her.”

It’s worse than what he was expecting. Far worse.

He splits in two.

“You what?” The words sound far less devastated than he feels. “You… what?”

“I went, I know I wasnae supposed to, but I had to see her.” Simon steps away. He releases his partner, the man he loves, and looks at him through the eyes of a stranger. “I havnae been sleepin’ I cannae eat, or focus, and I know ye’ve been havin’ an easier time-“

“Stop.” An easier time? Is he really that blind? “You think this has been easy for me?”

“N-no, I didnae mean-“

“You think I’m alright, when our girl…” He bites his tongue.

Control.

“I’m not having an easier time, Johnny.”

“I made a mistake.” He whispers to the floor, and sympathy, love, cracks Simon’s heart, just a little. He’s been having such a rough go, Simon knows. Struggling. Depressed. And nothing can fix it, not Simon or anything else in this world except… you.

He reaches, but Johnny steps out of his grasp, eyes wide.

“I… I made a mistake, Si.”

“I know, but it’s okay, we can-“

“We had sex.”

Everything changes. The floor disappears beneath his feet. His knees go weak, watery, and he steps away. A chainsaw tears through his diaphragm, blood and guts dropping to the floor.

“You what?” 

“I didnae plan to, it just… it just happened.” Simon closes his eyes. He struggles for air, a thousand pounds sat on his chest. “She was cryin’ and then we just… we lost control. I didnae even realize what was happening at first, and then she asked me to kiss her and I couldnae say no, Si. Ye know I… it just-“

“Stop.”

“She needed me, needs us, wanted to, and I-“

“STOP!” He shouts, and Johnny jerks back, eyes wide.

“Simon.” He reaches, but it’s too late. Simon is already stepping out of reach. An ocean of despair, sadness, rage tosses him in a turbulent wave, knocking him side to side, stealing his breath. Agony wails between his ears.

“Don’t touch me right now.” How could he do this? Betray you like this? When you’re vulnerable? 

He knows why. His next words are a poison barb, aimed straight at the heart of the man he loves.

“You’re weak.”

“Si.” Johnny’s voice cracks, face soaked with tears. He calls his name again and again, but Simon hears nothing, broken vibrato bouncing off his back as he turns away, locking himself in the bedroom.

“So, you want to do this. For real.” You’re so skeptical. Still. A battle never won but fought every day. You chew on your lip, hesitance heavy in your eyes. “With me.” 

“Aye, darling. With ye.” Johnny sucks a mark into your neck, hands roaming across your chest. You wriggle between them, uneasily laughing, huffing and pushing at him, still overstimulated and coming down from too many orgasms to count. They pushed you to the limit tonight, twisted you between them and bent you under their bodies, filled you at the same time. He can still feel the clench of your cunt around his cock, your warmth engulfing him, setting him aflame. “Is it so hard to believe?” 

“Yes.” Your answer is immediate, and Johnny rolls his eyes. You glance at Simon. 

He wants to rip away all your layers. Burrow between your heart and ribs. Remake you in an image of love, help you feel confident in their affection, their near obsession with you. 

“We know it will take time.” He murmurs, stroking a hand across the back of your neck when you push up onto your elbows. “We know this is a lot, and it won’t be easy, but we can make it work. If you give us a chance.” Tears line your lashes. You try to look away, but he holds you steady, refusing to let you hide.

“I’m scared.” You whisper. 

“I know.”

He thinks about calling you. What’s a phone call, in the face of such a boundary broken already? He wonders for a moment, if you’re okay, before his stomach tightens, realizing that Johnny left you there, alone.

Did you tell him to leave? Did he run home afterwards, worried? Did he hold you, make sure you’re okay, kiss you and tell you how much they love you?

He aches for violence. Wants to destroy this room, it’s walls, this place they tried to build around you.

The bed is too big now. The flat is empty. He feels the hollowness left in your wake everywhere, in the bathroom, missing your shampoo and toothbrush, the closet, lacking most of your clothes. The comforter has been replaced with a tired bedsheet and a blanket from the couch, a quarter of the pillows that are usually piled in the middle, missing.

It’s not his home. Not without you.

He eyes his phone.

He shouldn’t. 

Why is he being punished, for doing the right thing? For listening to you, when you begged them to understand this is what you needed. Why is he the one in hell, when Johnny gets to drink his fill? 

He doesn’t understand. How could he have gotten this so wrong? 

Is this what you wanted all along? For them to come, pluck you from your escape back into their arms? 

He looks at his phone again. The black screen taunts him, begs him, tells him it’s alright. It will be okay if he does it. If he breaks.

What kind of man is he, if he can’t respect what you need? 

Johnny knocks on the door.

“Ye cannae shut me out.” It’s reminiscent of not too long ago, when Simon was on the other side of a different door, begging to see your face, dying to hear your voice.

“Johnny.” He croaks. His own cheeks are wet now, tears dripping down his jaw to his shirt.

“Simon, please.”

“I can’t see you right now.”

“I cannae let ye-“

“If you love me,” He raises his voice, not quite a shout, but something awful instead, a low pitch of anger. “You’ll leave me alone.” He can’t even look at him right now, can’t understand why he did this. Why he acted so callously, so selfishly. Simon hates himself, for thinking it, for allowing this anger to fester but he can’t feel anything else when he thinks about his sweet boy on the other side of that door, crying out for him. He’s so angry. He reaches for his phone. The impulse is too strong, the pain and want and the fear of not knowing if you’re okay eating away at him until he’s tapping your contact open.

The phone rings three times. On the fourth, the line clicks open, and he holds his breath.

��Simon?” You’re crying. It’s in your voice, thick with it, trembling across the connection with an intensity that could crack the earth.

“Darling.”

“It’s not ideal-“ 

“Not ideal? It’s… it’s about to be Christmas.” You take a ragged breath, and Simon’s heart aches. “You just got home.” 

“Ah know love, but we cannae control when we’re needed. Ye know this.” 

“We’ll try to be home before Christmas.” He has to stem this bleeding somehow, patch this wound. He wants to take you in his arms, bury his face in your hair and promise you a million things he knows he can’t. 

“It’s fine.” It’s not. And neither are you. But you’re shoving it away, pushing it down where it will stay buried, building and building inside you like a storm, a wild thing that will drive you to the brink. 

“Darling.” He tries to grab you, hold onto you, make you stay near him, where he can hold you, where he can try to fix it. 

It’s not fair. None of it is. And never will be. Not for you. 

“I’m fine.” 

“We don’t want to be away from you, you know that.” You focus on the dishwasher, but your hands tremble, small tremors that signify an earthquake on the horizon. 

“I know. It’s fine.” 

“Darling.” You ignore him, focusing on the silverware draw, tugging on the handle. “Darling, please.” 

Johnny flinches when it crashes to the floor. There’s agony in your face, pain and disappointment, and he hates himself for it, hates this job, hates this life they brought you into. 

You break with a sob. 

“Fuck! Fff-fuck. I’m so-sorry.” You try to turn away, to run, but he meets you, pulling you into his chest, reaching for the back of your neck with a steady hand. You’re crying so hard he’s worried you can’t breathe. 

“It’s alright. You’re alright. We’re here.” For now. We’re here for now. He can’t give you much more, even though he’d give you both the world. You and Johnny, tucked away in secret, forever his. To hold. To love. “It’s okay, darling.” You cry and cry, sobs shaking your shoulders. 

It’s not going to end on its own. And why should it? They’re the ones who do this to you. They are the ones who have to fix it. 

Control it. 

“Bedroom lights.” He directs Johnny with a glance. 

“Rog.”

“The mess.” You whimper, and he shakes his head, still holding you firmly.

“We’ll clean it up later, darling. Let’s take care of you first.”

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I’m calling.” He’s spiraling. Unmoored. Uncontrolled.

“It’s… it’s okay.” You stifle a sob, and he wants to rip his hair from his roots.

“Are you okay? That’s all…” He pulls away from the phone to take a short breath, trying to breathe through his nose. “That’s all I needed to know, if you’re okay.”

“I’m…” You go quiet, and he doesn’t push. Doesn’t want to. He goes at your pace, letting you control everything now, just as he has been for this last month. “I’m not okay.”

His heart freezes in his chest.

“Did you call your therapist?”

“No.” You cry, and he pinches his brow.

“What do you need?” The pattern on the carpet is a dizzying spiral, swirls of brown and tan spinning around him, drawing him down until he’s sitting with his back against the bed. When you don’t speak, he tries, just a little, to pull it from you. “Tell me darling.”

Y-you. I need… you.”

[masked-watcher]

A fool for you

Words: ~1.9k

Pairing: Soap x Ghost

Tags: fluff, confession, simon feels unworthy of love, johnny proves him the opposite

Warnings: None apply

Artist: @evisen

"A bloody flirt, that’s what you are." Ghost shook his head, a smirk hidden away behind his mask. The scot laughed heartily, bumping his shoulder against the other. Not minding it any attention. He was kind of used to bodily contact with Ghost, after all their missions together. It felt natural, comfortable. On both sides. "Could teach ya somethin here 'n there. Push yer luck with the lasses.”

The taller man chuckled lowly, his gaze intense as he studied Soap. He raised a brow, a flicker of amusement sparking in his eyes. "Is that so?" He mused. "Should I take notes, or do you prefer a more hands-on approach, Johnny?”

Soap smirked, a snicker rolling through his body. "Seriously though, Si... You never let anyone close. I'm worried about you." His voice got quieter as his tone got serious. Simon’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing at those words. He hated it when the sergeant expressed concern for him. It made him feel weak. Vulnerable. "I don't need your worry, Soap. I'm fine." He muttered, his voice gruff and defensive.

Johnny simply looked at him, staying quiet but not less observant of the building tension. The silence between them was deafening. Ghost could feel Soap's eyes on him, studying him, analyzing his every move. It made his skin crawl. He didn't like being seen, being understood, being exposed. Normally wasn’t one to simply back out of situations. But here he was. Staring up at the ceiling, avoiding that sky blue gaze.

After what felt like an eternity, he spoke up, his voice quieter than before. "You don't understand, Johnny.”

"Then explain it to me... I like to think I'm your best mate. So you can trust me. Not just on the battlefield." The sergeant smiled, brows furrowed. It was a funny display and Ghost's expression softened marginally at his words. He closed his eyes, letting out a weary sigh. He knew Soap was right. He trusted him more than he trusted himself, sometimes. When he opened his eyes again they were met with an intense and searching gaze.

"It's...complicated." The lieutenant grumbled, his voice sounding tired.

"I'm sure I can follow."

Ghost exhaled slowly, his eyes focused on a spot on the wall. The tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a bit. "I don't let people in, Johnny. Because I can't afford to. Not in this job." He paused, his voice getting quieter. "We lose people constantly. I've lost people...people I cared about. Letting someone in means letting yourself care about them. And when you care about someone in this line of work...it's a liability. It distracts you. Leaves you open to weakness.”

It made sense, of course it did. Soap battled those thoughts way more often than he'd like to admit too. But in the long run, it was a mistake. After all, one cares about their teammates too, no? He shifted a little. "...You let me in.”

Simon's gaze snapped to the scot at his words, his expression flickering with a hint of surprise. As if that was something he had to point out. "That's...different." He muttered, voice growing quieter. His eyes trailed over Johnny's face, taking in his features, his expression, his eyes, the way his eyebrows furrowed together, the scar on one of them. He was silent for a moment, wrestling with his thoughts, his feelings. Then he spoke again, his voice a near whisper. "You're the exception, Johnny.”

"Am I now?”

"You know you are."

The taller man shifted in his position again. The proximity was both comforting and overwhelming at the same time. He could feel the warmth radiating off Soap, spreading through his body wherever they touched.

"No one else gets under my skin like you do. No one else understands me like you do. It's...dangerous.”

"Dangerous for who?" Soap was quick to ask back. A lopsided grin playing on his lips, not quite grasping the emotions this conversation held for Simon. What it meant for him to admit these things. He was so used to being close to the lieutenant that sometimes he forgot just how isolated the man usually kept himself. That he barely exchanged words with most, let alone hold a conversation. That hands would be broken so fast if anyone just so much as tried to touch the soldier with the skull mask. And then there was him.

Whiskey brown eyes stared at Soap. Ghost felt exposed, vulnerable. He hated it. Every single second. "For both of us, Johnny." He muttered, his voice a rough growl. "You think I don't have nightmares about losing you out there, one day? About seeing you get shot, or blown to bits, or captured and tortured?" A shaky breath was exhaled. "I care about you. More than I should."

A pause.

"You make me weak, Johnny.”

"And you make me strong." The stubborn sergeant flatly replied, standing his ground, looking into the eyes behind the mask. Eyes searching Soap’s face, accompanied by a bitter chuckle. "You think so? You're the one who's always charging into danger, throwing caution to the wind. You have no regard for your own safety. You're reckless and stubborn and careless." And loyal, creative, funny, a sight for sore eyes… His mind silently added the thoughts he would never dare to voice. Bloody hell, he could list a thousand things more.

Soap chuckled lowly. "I can afford to do that because I know yer always got my back..." He averted his gaze. "And I need to get back to you at the end of the day. That's outta the question.”

Simon's expression softened at the sergeant's words. The warmth now also spread through his chest. He reached out, grabbing Soap's chin and forcing his eyes back up at him. "You're bloody suicidal, Johnny. That's my job." His tone was a mix of frustration and fondness.

The scotsman smirked. It was his dumb, naive, lopsided grin that made something in Ghost stir every time. "As if I'll let you have all the fun alone.”

Ghost exhaled a low growl, a mixture of annoyance and amusement. He had half a mind to shake Soap by his shoulders, knock some sense into him. But there was something about that stupid grin that made his heart flutter. He hated it. "You're impossible."

"Been called worse before." The grin was just widening. Especially as he leaned a bit closer to the other man. His eyes studying the mask. Ghost tensed slightly as Soap leaned closer, his heart skipping a beat. The scent of him filling his nostrils. He wanted to pull away, to maintain his usual aloof demeanor, but he found himself frozen in place. His grip on Soap's chin loosening, finger tracing along his bottom lip. "You're playing with fire, Johnny." He muttered.

At that, the sergeant laughed, shaking his head slightly. "Ye saw me blowin up more stuff than fireworks going off at new years. Yer really think I'd be afraid of some heat?”

"One day that fire's gonna burn you alive." Simon exhaled a rough breath, his knuckles grazing against Soap's jawline.

"As long as that fire is called Simon Riley..." The shorter man whispered, looking up at Ghost through half lidded eyes, voice quiet. Almost... Vulnerable.

Ghost's heart was on the verge of just combusting, eyes snapping to the scot, his breath hitching in his throat. He felt his walls crumble, his carefully guarded facade slipping away. Hearing Soap say his name like that, so soft and earnest… It shook him to his core. Swallowing hard, his eyes searched Soap's face, looking for any hint of mockery or jest. But he saw nothing but vulnerability, a rawness in Soap's expression that mirrored his own.

"Johnny..." He whispered, his voice ragged. "You can't say things like that. Not when I'm trying to keep myself together."

He paused, his thumb brushing over Soap's lip.

"Why ye have to be so stubborn?" Johnny leaned closer to him, his lips parting slightly when the thumb brushed over them once more.

"I'm not the stubborn one here. You're the one who never backs down, the one who never listens. Always charging into danger like a bloody madman."

"So you saying this time the danger's you?"

Ghost huffed out a soft, gruff chuckle. He couldn't deny the truth in Soap's words. He was dangerous, a ticking time bomb, a man consumed by his own inner demons. "Yeah, Johnny. Sometimes I think you're safer out there in the field than you are with me."

He paused, his voice quieter now.

"You make me lose control. You make me want things I shouldn't want."

The sergeant didn't back down. His expression getting softer. "Such as?" The question was barely above a whisper.

The lieutenant felt his resolve crumbling further under the others' gaze. He could feel himself getting pulled in, drawn to Soap like a moth to a flame. He let out a ragged breath, his pulse quickening in his ears. "Things I could never have, Johnny."

He paused, his eyes flicking down to Soap's lips for a split second.

"Things I don't deserve."

"And who decided on that bullshit?"

A bitter chuckle rumbled in his chest. "You think I don't know I'm a mess? That I'm damaged goods? I'm not exactly the kind of person you bring home to mum and dad." His voice growing rougher as he went on. "I've done things, been through things… I've got scars, both inside and out that would scare the livin' daylights out of anyone."

"...That's not the Simon I see." The scotsman spoke up. "While those things are a part of you, they don't define you. That's not all there is to you. Despite what you think of yourself..." Looking down at the space between them, his hand found the others. Fingers delicately brushing over the back of the glove.

"...Loving you is easy."

Ghost felt his chest tightening. He felt raw, vulnerable, exposed. No one had ever seen him like this, had ever looked past his gruff exterior and seen the mess underneath. Not like that. He wanted to argue, to push Soap away, to protect himself from the vulnerability. But he couldn't. Johnny was like a drug and he was hopelessly addicted.

"You're a bloody fool, Soap."

Soap chuckled softly, the sound carrying a mixture of amusement and affection. His thumb tracing comforting circles on Ghost's hand. "Maybe I am." He admitted. "But I've never been one to back down from a challenge, especially when it comes to you, Si. I'd rather be a fool for you than anyone else." His gaze held steady on Simon's masked face, unwavering in its sincerity. Ghost met that gaze, the intensity of their connection palpable in the quiet space between them.

"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, Johnny." The taller man warned softly, though the corners of his mouth tugged upward in a faint, hesitant smile.

"I know enough." Johnny replied softly. "And I'm not going anywhere."

[ceilidho]

Best friend Johnny who's first instinct when you get a boyfriend is to go down on you/finger you till you're squirmy and crying. Maybe edges you until you agree to break up with the guy.

and if he's TOXIC sends a small video of himself going down on reader or fingering her open. Most of reader is strategically covered by either johnnys hands (or mouth lmao) but based on her voice and Johnny's 'she was mine first' message - the now ex figures it out lmao.

oh I'm screaming at this, anon

Best friend Johnny who finds out that you have a boyfriend (maybe you only just started dating or just made it official or something) and it flips a switch in him.

He's been passively interested in you for awhile now, but because you rarely date, he'd been lazy about it. Content to tease you and leave you on edge, making you sit in his lap when you'd go out with friends, talking on the phone until you fall asleep, licking sauce off the corner of your mouth like the gross degenerate that he is instead of using a napkin - anything to get you worked up and squirming in your chair.

Didn't think he'd have to rush into a relationship or sleeping together just yet because the chase is half the fun for him.

He didn't think you'd actually be desperate enough to go out on a date with someone else, never mind get a boyfriend. At first he feels a bit betrayed, maybe even panicked. You aren't dating but it feels a bit like you're replacing him with another guy. Another man who doesn't feel an iota of what Johnny feels for you, who's only there because Johnny's been taking his sweet time instead of locking you down.

It's okay though; he won't make the same mistake twice.

I have a recurring terrible daydream of you losing your job and Johnny manipulating you into doing porn with him :(( and he promises that no one else will see - it'll just be a couple amateur videos that you'll hide behind a paywall and once you've saved up a nice little nest egg, that'll be it. Except he doesn't make a huge effort to hide your faces from the camera or keep himself from saying your name. In fact, he spends a lot of time filming the two of you just making out, always sloppy and heated.

And he wants to film every single day! It doesn't feel like a proper job where there's a separation between work life and personal life. When you aren't filming, he still wants to 'practice' - eating you out in the back of his car after going to the movies, making you blow him on the couch after you come back from a date. Monopolizing so much of your time that you barely have the energy to go out with your actual boyfriend. But when he makes you sit on his cock while you look over how much you made that month, you can't deny how nice it is to not feel stressed about your finances for a change.

It's horrifically embarrassing the day your boyfriend stumbles across one of your videos, but Johnny's the best at comforting you when you come crying to him. Says all the right things. Has every argument in the world about why it wasn't cheating. Gets mad at your ex on your behalf for scrolling through porn accounts in the first place. He says all of this while not so subtly ushering you into your bedroom.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

Gang x reader who is latina that talked Spanish in front of them for the first time. For example, the reader asked them to bring them something in Spanish and they didn't understand?? Also I love your works

Summary: The reader speaking spanish with the gang for the first time. Warnings: none Author's Note: short today, something bugging out w tumblr... oops PONYBOY CURTIS Pony actually asked you to speak spanish with him before he heard you saying it naturally. He needs to study for his spanish test and asked you to help him with pronounciation. Because of this you're now helping him everyday and testing his knowledge by asking him random questions. He thinks its super cool that you can speak more than one language and finds it really attractive because he really values intelligence. JOHNNY CADE Johnny isn't all that smart when it comes to different languages. He'll pick up on the basics like "hello," and "i love you" (which he never says in spanish because he feels like his american accent might make embarrassing) But everything else that you've tried to teach him just flew over his head. One day, you were completely zoned out and thought you were talking to your parents and asked him for a glass of water in spanish. He looked so confused and you had to explain it to him. he made more of an effort to learn your language after that. SODAPOP CURTIS

Soda took spanish in school too, but he has the most god-awful accent and he rarely uses it so he's lost most of his knowledge. He refrained from speaking spanish with you because he thought he'd mess up and say something wrong or embarrassing. He only started after you initiated it. He vaguely understood what you were saying and completed your task accordingly. You praised him for his understanding and he really enjoyed having you proud of him. he started learning just so you could smile and say that he was doing good. STEVE RANDLE Steve also took spanish with Soda, and he didnt goof off in class, he actually paid attention!! He's pretty good at spanish, he can hold a conversation on his own, which is technically how he met you. But he hasn't heard you speak spanish in a while, so when he does hear you ask for something in your native language he's so happy that you're comfortable speaking with him. He tries to initiate more conversations in spanish and also gets you to teach him a lot more. TWO BIT MATHEWS Two Bit took spanish but he was always goofing off in class and crumpled and threw more papers than he wrote on. He knows the most basic of the basic words, but other than that he's totally clueless. Especially when you talked to him in spanish because you can speak kind of quickly. He's a little ashamed that he cant understand you, and he's afraid to admit it, but you understood and just repeated yourself in english. He made it his goal to learn a little more basic phrases and actually understand you a little bit. DARRY CURTIS Darry's grades had always been at the top, that includes his spanish class. He was really good and could understand a lot. He was pretty keen on trying to be fluent but those plans fell through. He's not kept up his practice so he thought you would help him once and a while, but he's too shy to ask you to start speaking your native language with him. He waits for you to say something in spanish by mistake to respond and make it known that he's actually pretty damn good at spanish. After that, he's always trying to talk to you in your mother tongue! DALLAS WINSTON This man doesnt know shit and you know it. He never showed up to his spanish class, and when ever he did he'd just write obscenities on the chalkboard. The only spanish words he knows are "hola, chica" which he uses to very crudely pick up girls with that DAMN NEW YORK ACCENT. and cuss words, he knows a lot of spanish cuss words. Just to get on his nerves he'll just spew random cuss words in spanish when he feels like it. He once got you soooo pissed that you just started yelling at him in spanish. (do you guys remember that one clip of the goth girl yelling at this white boy in spanish at school or is it just me) he thinks its lowkey really cute and he'll rub it in your face that you don't 'scare' him. HES SUCH A DICKHEAD WHY IS HE SO CUTE RAHH

[simon-o-riley-n-price-lover]

Tied Bonds

✩ Poly141 x f!reader (Yandere Universe)

Being a cafe worker was easy. You start to become friendly with the bar owners across the street, but they've become a little too obsessive. Would your friendliness become your worst mistake or your best decision yet?

ᥫ᭡ Main Masterlist

✮ Part 1 - A Cup of Ale and a Raspberry Scone

TW: Hint of stalking. If that triggers you. PLEASE LEAVE

MDNI

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The smell of coffee and caramel. The small chatter of people with chairs scraping the ground. The sound of buttons being pushed and machines running. That's all you hear as you enter the cafe, from the back. Wrapping your apron around you and tying it you walk behind the counter, getting ready to start helping the customers.

You love your job. From making the drinks to talking to new people. You have favorite customers from either great tips or them helping with bad days. So, pleasing your customers has always been your top priority when coming to work. You just want to make them happy, always have been a people-pleaser.

You began working with your other co-workers. Putting a smile on as you talked with them or asking a customers order. You moved quick on your feet, always have. You knew the orders by heart, working here for 6 years. You made the drinks with ease and gave them to the customer with a 'goodbye' and 'have a good day!'

You remember the first time you started working here. Being a nineteen-year old, you knew about nothing to making coffee. You we're a scared, tiny girl. Anything and everything made you jump. Now being almost 27, you knew your way around this place like the back of your hand. You could move around here blindfolded with one arm. Maybe a bit extreme? But true! As time grew on, you began helping the newbies, you loved helping them, it made your day.

As you kept moving, your lunch break came around, you walked to your car to retrieve your lunchbox. However, there was a note on your car with flowers on the window:

"You may not know us or see us, but we see you. Hope these flowers bring you warmth like your smile brings us."

So sweet! Right? That isn't weird at all!! Just, someone being friendly and giving.

That's what you told yourself as you smelled the flowers and retrieved your lunchbox and went inside to the back to eat. Was he weird someone gave you flowers? Maybe a little..But, it was sweet! Plus, it was your favorite flowers! How could you be mad when someone went through all that trouble to get you it! Plus, it might just be a customer returning a sweet gesture.

Lunch wrapped up and you began working again in sync with your other co-workers. It was around around lunch so it was getting pretty busy. But that was great, busy times meant a great pay check! And money kept food in your belly and a roof over your head (which you still need to pay the rent..).

The bell continued to ring and someone walked up to your counter:

"Evenin' bonnie!"

You knew that voice! It was that flirty but sweet Scottish lad from across the street. He runs it with those other three men. He's been coming here for every lunch about a year ago. You always enjoy when he's here. He's quite the flirt but his conversations always brighten even your worse days.

"Hi Johnny! The regular today or something new?"

The short chuckle and he's pulling out his wallet.

"The usual. You always make it the best. Become my favorite thing."

You smile and take his money and putting it into the register before starting to make his drink. A Flat White with a Turkey, Provolone & Pesto on Ciabatta. He never once failed to order it. "How's the day goin' bonnie? No lads or ladies bothern' you, nah?" He tapped against the counter

"Course' not. I have your strong arms to protect me. Why would they mess with me when they know you're just across?" You teased, you loved the back and forth game you two had, made life a bit less bland.

"Oh for sure. Are the bows new lass?"

You look down. Oh right. You added bows to your apron. Cute pink bows to make it less bland.

"Mhm! Thought it made it cute and stuck out!"

He mused, eyes trailing you up and down. You missed it of course, too busy making his drink.

"It fit's ya lass."

You finished his drink and and walked over, sliding his sandwich and drink over, fingers brushing together as you handed it off.

"That so?"

He nods and winks at ya before walking off, leaving you smiling like a dork.

As the day goes on, customers coming and going, smiling and laughter filling the cafe before eventually everyone is gone and home for the night.

Later that evening, you're wiping the tables down and as you're wiping one of them, you catch a note on one of the tables. Being a curious sue, you open it:

"Thought you'd fine it. Been chatty for a while with you now but I'd like to talk to ya more than just one day occurrence bonnie. Here's my number. ***-***-****. Call me lass or I'll come lookin' for ya. ;)" -Johnny

From outside, staring from his car, he sees you stifle a giggle. And he grips his steering wheel tighter. How long are ya gonna make the lad wait lass? Maybe he needs to talk to his cap and lieutenant..they've already seen how truly bonnie you are. Sharing would only be caring..and he cares for his mates'.

Author note here: I really hope people like this. Trying out fic and if this turns out shite I'mma go overboard. Would love recommendations and comments!! <3

[ghcstao3]

Im currently watching brave and it’s given me brain worms hehe

It’s to do with the will o’ the wisp!

Either soaps been seeing them his whole life guiding him to the task force or after a rough mission, totally lost/injured and with no way to contact anyone they guide his way back to ghost :D

Thanks for everything you write it genuinely makes my day to read all your works!!

ooh i really like this. also- apparently will o' the wisps are actually Not good in folklore so i wrote a little twist to fix that ;)

-

Throughout his life, Soap's nan had always liked to tell him stories about the many malevolent creatures he should hope to never have the misfortune of encountering—kelpies, redcaps, sluaghs; just about everything that existed in his homeland's folklore.

A little cruel in retrospect, Soap thinks, but for a while he'd just understood it as his nan's way of ensuring her grandson was to behave. They were myths, old tales and explanations for the unexplainable, and he can appreciate the determination to share tradition.

But now, as Soap is stranded in thick woods after an operation gone awry, blood sticky on his temple and a bullet stuck in his leg, he's not so sure they were just stories. Not as he's currently staring down an unnatural wisp of light in the darkness, hovering just a few feet away from where he'd collapsed against the thick, gnarled trunk of a tree.

Will o' the wisp, his mind supplies. Omens of death, his nan had told him, like many other creatures and spirits. They appear to the weary and lost like himself, flickers of glowing blue light almost hopeful as they guide one along a seemingly nonsensical path—but instead of leading someone to safety, they lure people to their doom.

The wisp just floats, unmoving, as Soap sits frozen. He tries his radio to no avail, and realizes with a great dread that he only has two options: attempt to find his own way back to his team, to anyone, anywhere, with the great risk of only getting more lost—or follow the wisp in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, it may actually lead him somewhere useful, no matter how bad the destination. Soap could only hope that doom is something he can fend off with a gun.

His decision is made rather easily because... he supposes it doesn't really make a difference, does it?

So he pushes himself away from the tree and toward the light—it vanishes as soon as he steps toward it, but with another step forward, another wisp appears.

Soap limps along, following the wisps. They weave him through trees and take sharp, sudden turns, disappearing and reappearing endlessly as Soap pursues the trail they leave. His head is on a swivel with every sound that isn't the crunch of branches beneath his own boots, with every flash of movement in his periphery.

He feels like he’d been walking forever by the time the forest has grown less dense and the wisps fade away for good—and that's when Soap sees it.

The large, imposing silhouette. The hulking figure cloaked in black. The glimpse of a skull in the sliver of moonlight that had managed to break through the forest's canopy.

Soap swallows a laugh. The will o' the wisps must have led him to Ghost, not realizing doom would have only been certain for Soap had he been the enemy.

Funny.

Ghost spots him and raises his gun, pauses, then after a moment lowers the barrel.

"Johnny?" Ghost grunts. "Where the fuck've you been?"

Soap shrugs a shoulder, wincing as he steps closer. "Lost my way running from the facility. Comms were dead." He flashes a crooked grin. "Worked out though, aye?"

Ghost snorts. "Aye," he echoes. "C'mon, then. Exfil's waiting. Save your explanations 'til then."

Soap gladly follows, relief nearly exalting.

But as they walk shoulder-to-shoulder, Soap can’t help but cast one last glance back at the trees from where he had emerged.

He wonders if the wisps had really made a mistake. He wonders if maybe they hadn't been done leading him, but Ghost had gotten in the way.

Questions he'll likely never find the answers for.

But regardless, now in safe hands—Soap thinks he had better refresh himself on his nan's stories as soon as he gets the chance.

He doesn't know now, whenever they might come in handy.

[barefoothighlander]

mary on a cross - hero of the day

-simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

-warnings: violence, death, smut (mdni), unprotected p-in-v, oral (fem rec), creampie, simon has a dirty mouth, mentions of alcohol, mentions of domestic violence (nothing graphic)

-word count: 6k

-summary: as you and simons relationship grows, outside forces conspire to reveal his secret, leading to him having to protect you by any means necessary. mercenary au

prev chapter fic masterlist next chapter

a/n: ok so I finally got around to playing mw 2019 and I fear a Price phase is coming on so... we'll see what happens. Not proofread, sorry for any grammatical errors

The mornings you and Simon woke up to were very different, yours was filled with a warm breeze from the window and a sense of comfort, not only from your bed but from your current life. You were happy, finally, it took years for you to gain the strength to leave but now that you’ve created the life you wanted, you felt content, secure. Simon’s morning was filled with dread, he barely slept that night, deciding to rather spend his time pacing his bedroom after he hung up the phone with Johnny, the two of them had worked together a few years prior, before Simon’s retirement and they had grown rather close, even using the term friends sometimes (though Johnny used it far more liberally than Simon). But it had been years since the two talked, not for any specific reason, just that Johnny had remained in the force and Simon grew used to living a life of solitude, not bothering to call Johnny over the years. He didn’t have Johnny’s number saved in his phone, but he wouldn’t mistake that voice anywhere, that obnoxious Scottish accent that he swears pierces his skull. It was a shock for Simon, being so cautious with his past time having everyone including the local police confused, but Johnny knew him, they had been through war together, he knew all of his moves, his favourite weapons, the only thing he didn’t know was the why.

“What are you doing going about killing civvies?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about MacTavish” Simon responds, trying to keep his breathing regular as to know alert Johnny

“Bullshit LT, it’s you, I've seen you kill enough men to know what it looks like” He takes a beat, “I’m not gonna turn you in”

Simon almost sighs in relief.

“I just want to know why, you left the force years ago, I’d thought your violent years were behind you, hell if you wanted to kill you should’ve stayed”

“They’re bad people Johnny”

“They always are”

“They’re not innocent, I just wanted people- innocent people to be safe”

“Alright”

The two men sit on the phone in silence for a few minutes, neither one daring to speak.

“I’ll see you in the morning LT,” Johnny says before hanging up.

Simon sat in his bed, his heartbeat in his ears, fuck he’ll ask more questions, he gets up and begins pacing slowly back and forth, you’ll ask questions. He never wanted to tell you about his past, he didn’t want to scare you, he knew you’d look at him differently if you knew what his military file had in it, he knew you’d run far away if you knew what his current past-time was, he couldn’t have Johnny talking to you it would ruin everything, he needed a way to get rid of Johnny without him giving away his secret, and without raising your suspicions.

Rather than sit anxiously in bed all morning Simon had gone to the gym beside the pub, it wasn't a large commercial gym by any means, but it had punching bags, and that was more than he could ask for, reposting to work out some of his stress on the large bags he threw punch after punch till his already sore knuckles were swollen and red. Deciding that he had inflicted enough pain on himself for the day he grabbed his bag and made his way back to the pub, going to turn the key in the lock before realizing it was already open. Immediately Simon went into fight mode, prepared to attack whoever decided to trespass onto the property, his trance only broken by the sound of laughter, your laughter, his shoulders untensed as he pushed the door open to find you, head thrown back in laughter, smile wide and bright, and him, next to you. 

You turn your attention from Johnny towards the door, eyes locking on the large looming figure advancing towards you.

“Good morning,” you say, smiling as wide as ever. Simon's gaze shifts between you and Johnny.

“Mornin”

“Sleep well?” Johnny asks, a smirk on his face as he sips his coffee, Simon ignores his questions.

“Johnny said he knew you from the force, figured I’d let him in before we open so he could say hi” 

Simon spares a tight-lipped smile in your direction, “Yea we um, worked together for a bit”

Johnny fakes insult, “Just wanted to check in LT, finally got leave so I’m back for a bit”

Simon gives a curt nod as he busies himself cleaning glasses, you sense the tension in the air.

“I’m gonna go get some coffee, did either of you want anything”

“No” “I’ll take a tea lass” both of the men respond, you smile and make your way out the door.

“You shouldn’t be here Johnny”

“She’s sweet”

Simon turns his gaze to stare daggers at Johnny as a smirk creeps up on his face

“You like her” Johny asks, though it’s not a question

“She’s not a part of this”

“So she doesn’t know?”

“No one does”

Johnny nods his head looking around the room before continuing.

“Are you going it for money?”

“No”

“Then what?”

Simon sighs, “When I got back, I spent a week just sitting in my flat, watching the news, trying to catch up on whatever I’d missed. The people, the children that were being harmed, I couldn’t just watch it happen.”

“So it’s about your family”

Before Simon can respond you walk back in, tray of drinks in your hand.

“I know you said you didn’t want anything but I figured I’d get you some anyway”

Johnny watches as Simon's body untenses at the mere sight of you, glancing at his eyes that are practically heart-shaped. You place the drinks atop the bar and both men reach to grab theirs, Simon mumbling a soft thank you in your direction.

“Oi doll, could you grab some extra glasses from the back,” Simon asks, you nod at him and turn to walk towards the backroom.

“Let me help you,” Johnny says, Simon furrows his brows.

“I don’t need your help, Johnny”

“Right, what happens if you get caught?”

“I won’t”

“You don’t even exist technically, you get caught an the whole team gets investigated”

“I won’t get caught” Simon stands stern as Johnny shakes his head in disbelief. “You should go”

“Right” Johnny gives him a sad look, “I’m off lass!” he shouts to you. You poke your head around the corner.

“Already? Well alright, don’t be a stranger” you say with a smile as Johnny gives you a wave turning away to exit.

“I’ll be in town,” he says to Simon, it’s more of a warning.

Simon feels his mind flush with a million thoughts at once as soon as Johnny leaves.

“So, the weirdest thing happened last night,” you say, moving back into your seat at the bar, Simon gives a hmm in acknowledgement, keeping his attention on cleaning the bar.

“News said they found two bodies on a street close to here, just freaked me out cause I take that street home”

“Strange”

“Right, and remember how I was telling you about those guys following me” You wait for his nod, “It was the same street, can’t be a coincidence”

Simon feels his pulse start to race, there’s no way she thinks it’s me. You shake your head

“I don’t know, just weird. Guess I have to find a new route home”

“I can take you home,” Simon says a little too quickly

“No I don’t want to be a burden, I don’t live far anyway”

“You could never be a burden”

You feel your cheeks flush a little, looking toward your feet.

“Alright”

The two of you enter a comfortable silence, going about your tasks individually, but always within reach of each other. The day was slow, with a handful of people coming in once and a while to get a few drinks, by midnight it was dead quiet, you and Simon occupying yourselves with quiet conversation that was mostly one-sided.

“Top five books,” you say

“What?” Simon responds with a raised brow

“What are your top five books, I’ve noticed you reading in the mornings”

He gives a small nod, “Not sure, maybe dorian gray, hell’s angels, jekyll and hyde, moby dick, and jane eyre.

“You’ve read jane eyre”

“A few times yeah”

“Cute, no books about war?”

“Feels strange to read about it when you’ve lived through them”

“Them? Like multiple”

“What are yours” He changes the topic quickly

“Doesn’t matter” you say and he smirks.

He looks outside to the dark street, “We should probably get you home”

You nod and gather your bag, Simon walks beside you, locking the pub before the two of you make your way to the street, he places a soft hand on your waist to guide you in a different direction, and you feel heat flush your body from the contact. The two of you turn a corner and walk to a small alley beside the pub where a motorcycle is sitting.

“You ride a motorcycle,” you ask almost amused. He huffs a laugh at the question urging you closer as he turns the key in the ignition, you hear the bike roar to life as Simon turns to place a helmet on your head, securing it before sitting on the bike, he waits for you to get on the back. You nervously place your hands on his shoulders, unaware of how to sit, he reaches back for your arms, pulling them tight over his stomach and forcing your chest to press against his back. You try to stop yourself from feeling over the strong muscles of his stomach, he turns the bike to make his way down the alley onto the street, speeding up as he enters onto the road. You cling to him and he can’t fight the smile that creeps up on his lips, he revels in your touch no matter the circumstances, he liked that you were holding on to him so tightly seeking safety. The ride to your flat was short but exciting, Simon driving more cautiously than he normally would. He parks the bike outside your building as you remove the helmet passing it to him, you smooth your hair from your face before thanking him and making your way to your door.

You close the door behind you and fall against the wall trying to come to terms with what you were feeling, you didn’t want to take your hands off him, you wanted to press further into his flesh and let your hands roam all over him. You think about exploring his body, feeling his muscles under your palms, his fingers digging into your hips and heat pools in your lower stomach, you bite your lip and in a surge of confidence you open your door again to see him leaning against the bike, smoking a cigarette. You lock eyes and he quirks his head.

“Did you want to come in?” you ask sheepishly and without a second thought he throws his cigarette to the pavement and closes the space between you. It happened so quickly, the door was pushed open and he grabbed your face with both hands, not wasting a minute in attaching his lips to yours, his kisses are feverish, and tongue and teeth and he closes the door with a kick of his leg and moves you back against the wall, he leaves your lips to plant wet kisses down your neck and collarbone as your hands roam over his shoulders, chest, back, any part of him you could reach. You feel his weight press against you as he lifts you up against the wall, lips returning to yours as his tongue begs entry and you oblige. The two of you are a mess of gasps and moans, trying to catch any breath between the kisses, he begins walking you down the small hallway as you direct him to the bedroom in between kisses.

He drops you onto the mattress, lips never leaving yours as you arch your back to lift your shirt and he does the same giving your hands full access to paw at his skin, you feel your fingers over his littered scars you’ll ask later. He reaches down the hem of your pants, looking to you for permission, you nod and attach your lips to his neck as he undresses you, your arms reaching behind your back to remove your bra. You’re left in just your panties, laying on the bed, lips swollen and eyes blown wide in lust while Simon takes a step back to admire you muttering curses under his breath that bring a rosy tint to your cheeks. He kneels down and places a trail of kisses across your bare stomach as your fingers find their way to his scalp, raking through his hair, his fingers come to curl around your underwear before peeling them down your legs as he looks over your dripping pussy.

“Christ, so wet already”

You blush and he smirks before diving in, licking thick stripes up your slit, lapping up every drip he can, teasing it with his fingers before pushing them into you, he’d take his time later, he wanted you, needed to feel you come apart on him. Your head is thrown back, slurs of moans leaving your lips as your fingers grip his hair in an attempt to ground yourself. The combination of his fingers and expert tongue bring you to your peak quickly, your chest tightening as your high builds.

“That’s right pretty girl, cum for me, cum on my fingers”

You let out a loud gasp of his name as you reach your climax, he licks you through it, replacing his fingers with his tongue in order to swallow every last bit of your high. He places a few more kitten licks to your swollen pussy before moving up to entrap you between his arms, reaching down to kiss you.

“Taste so sweet,” he says reaching down to unbutton his pants before taking them off. You glance at his throbbing cock through his boxers, it’s big, bigger than you’ve taken before. He reads your eyes,

“S’alright doll, I’ll be gentle”

“No,” you say but it comes out as a whimper, “want you to fuck me, hard”

A smirk creeps onto his face as he grips your waist, flipping you onto all fours, you’ve barely caught your breath, limbs weak as you try to hold yourself up. He grabs a handful of your ass, placing kisses down your spine before bending to bit lightly at the meat of your ass, you let out a small yelp and he kisses over the skin, teasing the head of his cock through your puffy lips. He plants a firm grip at your hip before pushing into you, letting out a moan. You let out a curt fuck as he pushes in, leaning down to encase you, planting a palm next to your shoulder before he begins slowly pumping into you inch by inch.

“Doing so well love, just a little more”

You can’t help the breathless moans that escape your lips. He bottoms out with a large breath that you feel fanning over your cheek, your arms give out as your face falls in contact with the bed. He pulls himself back up to trace his palm between your shoulder blades as he continues pumping into you. As your pussy adjusts to the size of him you begin moving your body back against him in time with his thrusts, feeling the tip of his cock prodding at your cervix. He brings both hands to knead at the flesh of your ass, spreading the cheeks apart to get a clear view of him fucking you.

“Fucking hell, feel so good love”

He picks up his pace and you hear your headboard colliding with the wall behind it, drool pooling on the sheets under your mouth as you cry out his name.

“That’s right baby, say my name”

“Si- Simon fuck”

He reaches a hand around to toy with your clit and you feel your muscles constrict around his length.

“Fuck squeezin' me so tight”

He reaches a hand around your throat and pulls you upright, your back arched and flush with his chest as he holds you against him, your hands coming to grab at his thick forearm in an attempt to keep yourself upright. You can’t think, your mind clouded with only him, his scent is intoxicating, all you can feel is him. He brings you to your peak, sucking at your neck hard enough that it was sure to leave a mark as you moan into his ear.

“Yes fuck, right there, please Simon”

“Yea, that feel good love”

You nod.

“Words baby”

“Yes God please”

He continues thrusting into you, fingers circling your clit faster as that familiar coil burns in your lower abdomen.

“Shit I’m gonna cum”

“Yea? Fuck cum on me, wanna feel you squeeze my cock”

And you do, you come undone in his arms, your pussy soaking his cock and he fucks you through your second high, never slowing his pace. When you finally come down you’ve lost all control of your body, your thoughts are fuzzy as he flips you onto your back and pushes back into you, bringing your knees to your chest and holding them there. You can’t form words, body overstimulated from your orgasms.

“Not gonna last, where do you want me”

“Inside please, need to feel you,” you say but it comes out as a whisper.

He can’t deny you, not when he has you under him, completely lost in him, begging for his cum, his muscles tense as he slows his thrusts, spilling his hot seed deep into you with a deep grunt. He releases your legs but keeps himself inside, leaning down to kiss your glistening neck, he stays there for a while, both of you catching your breath, basking in the warmth of him.

He removes his softening cock from you and watches as the mixture of both your orgasms spills out before leaving to grab you a warm towel. He runs it over your body, careful to not hit your overstimulated clit before tossing it to the laundry bin and settling down next to you, you reach for him nuzzling into his broad chest as his arm moves to hold you close to him, lips pressed to the crown of your head.

“Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do that” he says and you giggle into his chest, hands roaming to feel over his scars.

“They’re old, wounds from when I served,” he says as you glance up at him, “knew you were gonna ask at some point”

You smile, reaching up to kiss him, head falling back against the pillow as he brings his hands the push your hair out of your face, you stare into his eyes, his face gives nothing away but his eyes, they’re full of emotion, he looks at you like you hold the world. You feel yourself growing tired as you cuddle back into him,

“Stay here,” you say

“Okay”, you feel the deep rumble of his voice through his chest as you close your eyes letting the warmth of him comfort you into sleep.

The two of you are woken to the loud noise of banging at your door, you open your eyes slowly, your limbs are tangled between Simon’s as his arms hold you close, cursing to yourself that you’d have to leave him. You move from his chest and throw on some pants and his shirt, making your way to the door, opening it your heart falls to the floor.

“Alex” your chest feels empty, why was he here, how did he find you?

“Hey babe”

You shake your head trying to close the door but he places his foot in the way.

“Can we just talk”

“No - I left for a reason” You glance back at Simon in your bed, still asleep. “You need to leave”

He follows your eyes, “Is someone here” The tone in his voice grows angrier as he pushes the door to let himself in, you stumble back.

“Alex please, go home I don’t want you here” you beg as tears prick your eyes, it had taken everything in you to leave him and here he was in your apartment.

“Who the fuck is that” he yells turning back to you, invading your space and forcing your body to move back against the wall as your arms come up to plead defence.

“You leave me and move here to fuck some other guy, you fucking slut”

“Alex please”

His hand makes firm contact with the wall beside your head, making you flinch as your tears start to flow down your cheeks.

“What is wrong with you, I gave you everything”

Before you can object a deep voice calls from the other side of the room.

“I’d back off if I were you”

You look up, eyes locking on Simon’s and you can see the anger that's burning it’s way to the surface

“Seriously, hey just fuck off man this doesn’t concern you,” your ex says, turning his attention towards the large man.

“It concerns me plenty,” Simon says crossing the room to tower over Alex

“Simon please” you beg, he can see in your eyes that you don’t want him to hurt Alex, but every fibre of his being wants to kill him, slit his throat and throw his body into some alley for the rats to feed on. Alex puffs his chest and pushes at Simon with his hands, he doesn’t move an inch, tilting his head down to glare at your ex's face.

“You need to leave”

“You fucking leave, she’s my girlfriend���

Simon feels his anger come to a tipping point as he grabs Alex’s neck and shoves him against a wall, your quiet pleas lost in his fit of rage. Alex brushes him off, sparing you a final glance.

“This isn’t over, I’ll be back,” he says before leaving, slamming the door behind him hard enough that you jump. You sink backwards against the wall.

“Are you alright?” Simon asks scanning your body for any evidence that you were hurt.

You shake your head, “You shouldn’t have done that”

“He was hurting you-”

“No Simon, you don’t understand, he’s not going to stop, he followed me here” Your cheeks are stained with tears, your breath heavy.

“Then I’ll deal with him,” he says slowly bringing his hands to hold your face as you stare up at him. God help any man who tried to hurt you in his presence, “I promise, he’s never going to touch you again”

You sniffle, trying to catch your breath as he wraps his arms to hold you, this was just another person he’d have to take care of, he’d kill everyone if it meant keeping you safe. The two of you stand in the living room, not a word shared between you as he just continues to hold you, shushing your quiet sobs, placing tender kisses on the crown of your head. You felt safe in his arms, your anxiety settling as his palms caress over your spine.

“I’ll kill ‘em if I have to”

You release a giggle, as Simon smiles but he’s being serious. After a few minutes, the two of you continue your morning, Simon making tea as he doesn’t trust you to do it properly while you stand in the shower, letting the warm water ease your tense muscles.

You jump as the curtain pulls back, Simon’s head popping in, eyes lingering on your naked form.

“Take a picture why don’t you”

“Don’t tempt me”

You laugh at his remark.

“I’ve gotta head over to the pub” his eyes full of lust, every bit of him trying hard to not jump in the shower with you, “I’ll see you over there in a bit yea?” 

You nod leaning over to kiss him, biting lightly at his lower lip.

“Minx,” he says and splashes some of the water at you.

Simon leaves and you continue with your morning, drying off from the shower and getting dressed for work. You weren’t sure how the new dynamic would work, you had always found Simon attractive but this was new, you’d never slept with someone you had to see every day. You didn’t know if this was a one-time thing, you hoped it wasn’t but Simon wasn’t the best about vocalizing his emotions, you didn’t want to just come out and ask, so you’d have to wait, test the waters, see how he felt about you.

By noon you had made your way to the pub, the cool air inside a welcome sensation after your walk in the warm air outside, you settle your things, peeking around the corner to try and find him.

“Simon?”

No response, maybe he was upstairs, you’d never been to his flat and it felt strange to just invite yourself in so you stayed in the pub, finding tasks to complete while you waited for him. A few minutes pass and you hear a loud crash from upstairs.

“Si?” you yell, hoping it’s him upstairs and not some robber, silence fills the next minute before you see him emerge from the back door looking a little dishevelled.

“Hey love, make it here okay?” he asks placing a kiss on your lips. You’re a little taken aback at his quick pace.

“Yeah fine, what was that noise”

He looks over to you taking a beat, “Knocked a chair over, was rushing around too quick I guess”

You nod, not fully believing him but trusting him enough that you didn’t pry further. The two of you fell into routine, pouring drinks for regulars, restocking liquor, cleaning glasses, having small conversations between customers.

“I’ve gotta check something in the flat, I’ll be back quick,” he says rushing up the back stairs.

You occupy yourself cleaning as you hear more noise from upstairs, deciding you needed to check it out for yourself. You make your way up the back stairs, slowly opening the door to the flat peering inside. It wasn’t anything spectacular, essentially just one large room, a bed at the far wall in front of a window, there was a small kitchen tucked against another wall, everything was very clean, it looked like he never used the furniture. You look around for him as you step into the room, following the sound of his heavy breaths around a corner, he’s standing at a large window looking out, a creak in the floor alerts him to your presence.

“Hey, sorry not as quick as I thought”

You look around, nothing is out of place so what was all the noise?

“It’s alright, just heard banging, didn’t know if you needed help with something”

“Huh? Oh- no was just looking for something, forgot where I’d placed it”

“Placed what”

He looks at you, jaw slack as he tries to think of a response.

“My tags, dog tags, wanted to throw them in with the rest of my stuff just couldn’t remember where they were”

You glance over, eyes locking on his bedside table, you flick your head in their direction.

“Found ‘em”

He huffs a laugh, crossing the room to pick them up, toying with them in his hands before moving over to you. He glances down at you, raising his arms to place the chain around your neck, you stare up at him, quirking your brow.

“Look better on you” he says, leaning to kiss your forehead. 

Your fingers come up to fiddle with the tags, eyeing them over, Lt. Simon Riley, well at least you knew his last name now.

“Did you close up”

You shake your head.

“Right well, meet you outside in 5. I’ll drive you home”

He begins walking away,

“Why don’t we stay here tonight,” you ask and he stops in his tracks, “Easier that way, don’t have to wake up any earlier to get to work”

He thinks it through in his head, he’s never had anyone in his flat, let alone stay the night, but it’s you.

“Yea alright, just give me a minute to close downstairs”

You nod, taking the time to further explore the space. Lots of books, a guitar sat in the corner, no pictures, he had barely anything on the shelves, it looked like he only used the space to sleep if that, the bed was perfectly made, not a single wrinkle in the sheets. You strip your body of your clothes, rummaging through his drawers to find a shirt, throwing it over your form as you settle into the bed, senses overtaken by his scent that lingers on the pillows. Simon steps back into the room, eyes landing on your half-naked form,

“Comfy”

“Very,” you say, stretching your limbs over the mattress as you feel it dip from his weight. He lays back and you crawl over him, legs caging his hips as his arms secure themselves around your back, chin nuzzled into your neck.

You revel in his warmth as he places light kisses over the skin not covered by his shirt, making his way to nip at your neck eliciting a small moan from you. You crane your neck to bring your lips to his, kissing him softly as his hands move down to grab at your ass. Your kisses become feverish as you feel yourself grow needier, light pushing your lips against him, Simon moves to kiss along your jaw, lips settling under your ear.

“What do you want pretty girl”

“You, need you,” you say through gasps, grinding yourself down onto his hardening cock

“Need me to what”

“Need to feel you, need to feel your cock inside me”

“Atta girl” He grips your hips with bruising strength as he grinds you back and forth against him, your hands moving to plant on his chest as your clit catches on the fabric of his boxers.

He moves you at a brutal pace and you can feel the arousal pooling in your lower stomach.

“Soakin’ me already baby, you gonna cum just from grinding on me”

You bite your lip, nodding as the sensation takes over your body, your legs tensing as you dig your nails into his flesh, your slick leaking from your orgasm, soaking through your panties onto his hard length.

He lifts you off him, pulling his boxers down, his throbbing length slapping at the skin of his lower abdomen.

“Wanna ride you” you say breathlessly as Simon smirks.

You push yourself up, lining his cock up with your weeping cunt before settling down on him, taking him slowly, gasping at the stretch. His hands grab at your shirt, lifting it over your head before his lips move to kiss at your breasts, tongue teasing over your hard nipple as your fingers rest on his shoulders stabilizing you. Once you settled you begin bouncing slowly up and down his cock, your juices leaking down pooling at the base, and coating his pubic hair. He leans back, hands on your hips encouraging you to continue, he thrusts up abruptly, forcing your body forward, hands planting on his firm chest and you continue to ride him, the friction from his pubes hitting just the right spot that you’re able to grind your clit against him

“That’s right pretty girl, use me, make yourself cum on my cock”

You lean down to kiss him and his arms wrap around your back, holding you to him as he plants his feet against the mattress and begins thrusting up into you at a brutal pace, your head falls to his neck as choked sobs escape your lips. You bite down on the meat of his shoulder, hands grasping at the sheets as he continues to fuck you.

“Fuck - look at me, wanna see you when you make a mess all over my cock”

You arch your back, head coming to rest against his forehead as you stare down at him, your jaw’s fallen open, strings of moans escaping as he reaches to kiss you, forcing his tongue into your mouth as he continues his assault on your pussy.

“Fuck, m’gonna cum”

“That’s right, good girl, wanna feel you squeeze me”

He latches his lips to yours, swallowing the moans that come from your orgasm, fucking you through it at a brutal pace as he chases his own high.

“Fuck you feel so good, so tight” He groans eyes locking onto where your bodies meet, mesmerized at the sight of your pussy swallowing his large cock. You dig your nails into his shoulders as he grips tightly around you, thrusting a few more times until he lets out a loud moan and you feel your pussy being filled by his warm seed, pumping a few more times, letting you milk him dry as your foreheads come into contact again, the two of you rest against each other trying to catch your breath, he places a kiss to your lips before slowly rolling you over onto your side, holding you tight to his chest where you plant kisses over his scars.

You fall asleep quickly, your body tired and mind quiet at the sensation of Simon's breaths against your cheek, he listens to your breathing, his own mind racing with thoughts. He had followed your ex from your flat, conveniently walking down the street near the pub as Simon invited him in for a drink and a chat, Alex had obliged entering the doors before Simon locked them and wrapped his arms around his neck effectively incapacitating Alex, he wasn’t thinking, all he could feel was his anger, he hated him for hurting you, hating the fact that he had even been able to touch you even more, you were his, no one would touch you except him. He had dragged Alex’s body up the short flight of stairs into his flat, positioning him near the bathroom, giving him time to wake up before continuing his assault, he wanted him to feel every hit, every bruise and ache that would remind him not to go near you, Simon landed blow after blow to his body, blood spitting from his mouth pooling under his head. He didn’t mean to kill him, but somewhere along the way, his sight turned black, his fists moving on their own accord coming into contact with Alex’s head.

Simon stood back, catching his breath now fully aware of what he had done, ignorant to your presence downstairs he grabbed the body leaving it in the bathtub, he would come back later when his head was clear to clean up.

When he finally returned upstairs later he knew he had to be quick, wrapping the body and tossing it out the window into the alley behind, he knew the routine of the sanitation workers, he had enough time to take you home and come back to responsibly dispose of your ex so that no one would know it was him. What he didn’t account for was you, standing in his flat as his hands were wet with soapy water from cleaning the blood off the floor, he panicked, he couldn’t lie to you, he wanted you to trust him, but his instinct to protect you from who he really was took over.

He never planned on giving you his tags, but seeing the smile on your face after he put them on you he can’t picture you without them, a chain around your neck with his name, a visible marker to let him know that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

He couldn’t sleep, even with the comfort of your body next to his, he had to clean up before you noticed anything. Carefully he removed himself from your arms, watching the way you tucked into yourself at the loss of warmth, he made his way over to the window to look upon the corpse, devising a plan that would allow him to get rid of it only for his eyes to focus on an empty alley.

The body was gone?

[1-ker0sene-1]

Never Just Two

Ghoap / Reader

(Wheelchair User Reader)

Chap1, Chap2, Chap3

"Liquid Courage"

Word Count: 1.7k

CW: Ghoap kinda being assholes

They thought it would be easy. Maybe you would go away in just a couple weeks, either done with your task, or hell- maybe you weren't that good and they'd get a replacement. Seems Ghost and Soap weren't so lucky. You were good at your job, damn good. You got the information they needed barely in a couple days. Laswell and the captain agreed to sign you onto the next mission, then the next.. now they were even considering making you a full fledged member of the task force.

Not only were you good at your designated tasks. But fuck. You were already acclimating well on the base, on the team. Already knowing Laswell, you came in with a good respect for eachother. You and Gaz bonded fairly quickly, apparently you briefly lived in his hometown around highschool. Not that you knew eachother deeply, just passed eachother in the halls. And Price, damn those paternal instincts, had done well taking you under his wing. Making sure things were accessible for you, making sure you didn't question your role here. You were soft spoken, he'd be damned if he let anyone on base walk over you.

You got along with everyone. Everyone except them. You definitely strayed away from the couple, slipping out of the room when they came in. If you couldn't leave you'd at least quiet down. You could meet Johnny's eyes if he asked something directly, with some brief glances away. But Simon definitely intimidated you the most, you didn't even look him in the eyes. But you were civil, speaking when spoken to, still handing them their designated information for missions. Wishing them luck just as you do the captain and Gaz. You were simply distant, as far as you knew, it was for your own good.

They couldn't deny their part in it. Simon directly threatened your life, Johnny did too- just having the slightest bit of subtlety about it. At first, with your growing kinship with the team, they were sure you were going to give them away. Not to mention, you saw Simons face. God did it make his spine itch, those he trusted saw him unmasked, he certainly didn't trust you. Simon is ashamed to say he tampered lightly with your computer in the first week, with little hope that you'd fuck up and be transferred. He knows it's low. He knows it's a bastard move. But you were a threat, a threat of losing Johnny. This little stunt didn't work, you completed your task without a hitch. Not even mentioning the clear tampering, you never reported it.

It was the second week that they stopped any sabotage towards you. The fact that you surprised them was an understatement. They made a mistake, one of the recruits saw them wander out of a room in the barracks together- looking.. out of breath to put it lightly. They were sure this was it, caught red handed, they'd be pressed on the subject and eventually the truth would come out. But you, just as Price questioned them, lifted your head and piped up.

"They were just helping me-"

Both Gaz and the captain blinked at you. You barely spoke to the pair, so you asking them for help was news to them.

"You? .. With what?"

Price questions with a raised brow, hand rising to paw at his own beard lazily. You shrugged.

"..I uh.. Had to move some furniture in my room in the barracks.. I can't push the dresser by myself sir."

All that day guilt swarmed in the two men's stomachs. Maybe they were being too harsh. So far you kept your promise, more than that really. Johnny's lips pursed once it was just him and Simon in his room.

"We cannae keep doin' this. Felt bad 'bout it before, now it's damn right cruel."

He mutters, dragging his nails over his scalp through the thick fur of his mowhawk.

Simon stayed silent but nodded in agreement, leaning up against the wall.

"Can't get rid of her now."

He mumbles in confirmation. Johnny scritches at his stubble slightly, which earned a light push on the wrist from Simon- Johnny had a habit of nervous ticks. Whether bouncing his knee or lightly scratching, either way the Lieutenant was trying to break him of it.

"Maybe we shouldn' have tried t' all."

Johnny grumbles. Regret weighing on him. They jumped to conclusions. Now feeling like a right arse. They quite literally were picking on a disabled woman in the workplace, looking like fucking idiots while doing so too. Especially considering that woman just helped them stay out of prying eyes.

Tonight the group was going out to celebrate, it took you some convincing from Gaz to come along with them. Teasing that you had to come since the mission wouldn't have gone well without you. Now you didn't believe him in the slightest, but praise had always been your weakness. So here you were, trailing beside them as they entered the old building. Price walking behind you, despite you saying you didn't need his help pushing the chair, he liked to remain close just in case you changed your mind.

The bar was nice, Gaz had told you it was the groups favorite. Cheap liquor, good music, and fairly empty most of the time besides regulars. You didn't mind the place either, the warm lighting soothed your nerves. Sinking a little into your seat comfortably. Heading over to the table with the rest of the guys. Gaz slides away a bar stool, letting you pull up your chair in the spot instead.

"Thanks Kyle."

You smile warmly, crossing your arms and leaning your elbows on the tabletop. The group moves to sit down. Gaz on your left, Ghost and Soap across from you, Price at the head of the table. Purposely sitting in the back so the bartender couldn't catch him lighting up a cigar as they waited on their usual drinks.

"Damn lucky this time boys."

The captain mumbles. Soap gives a cheeky grin and bumps shoulders with his Lieutenant beside him.

"Y'know I'd prefer ta call it skill Captain."

While idly chatting about the mission, drinks were slid onto the table by the bartender. You couldn't help but stifle a laugh into your hand as Price was being scolded for the smoke in his hand. Gaz however openly chuckles. Ghost huffs in amusement under his balaclava. Soap grinning ear to ear.

"No captain here Price, that lass is tellin' you off like hir own bairn-"

"Shut it.."

The older man groaned, tossing his hat on the table.

Sipping on the bourbon in your glass you watch with a quiet smile as the four bicker playfully between eachother. You sunk willingly into their background, not minding it at all. Honestly, you found comfort in it. So when Gaz proposed a game of pool over to the middle of the bar, you politely decline, deciding to nurse your drink at the table. However you swallow thickly as all four leave. Except one.

Simon stays seated across from you, making you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Looking down at the liquid in the glass, tracing your fingertips along the rim. You wanted to say something. Anything. Frustrated wasn't quite the word you felt with this man. Well, both of them. You open your mouth, glancing up you find the masked brute is staring right back at you. Closing your lips, jaw clenching. You notice him take a breath, before lifting his glass- slipping out his words right before taking a drink.

"You're awfully quiet."

The words come out of him, as if he isn't one of the reasons. You blink at him, brows furrowing. At first you wonder if he's fucking with you, being sarcastic. But it doesn't matter for your answer. You look down at your cup again, picking it up.

"Not really. We just don't talk much.."

You mumble in return. He's still watching you. You can't help but glance towards the other three, well mostly the two you feel comfortable with. But you find that Price is focused on the game and Gaz is most definitely busy teasing him for it.

There's another long moment of silence. You're glaring at the wood of the table. You both want to speak now, but the words are difficult to find. Hiding instead in frequent glances of distrust. You throw back the glass and down your drink, letting the liquid burn down your throat. Looking Simon straight in the eyes you say sternly.

"I know you have an issue with me. The both of you."

It's Simons turn to blink at you. He's not going to deny it. He's showed it rather clearly in his opinion. But. He does feel the urge to explain. It wasn't personal. He wants to say. He just can't lose Johnny. You were a risk. You were a risk he just wasn't willing to take.

"I don't care."

These are the words that catch him off guard. You stare at him in defiance. You're gripping your glass tightly with both hands.

"You don't have to like me. You can hate me if you want too. But I'm not going anywhere."

You say sharply. Simon hasn't heard you speak like this before. Usually you can be rather meek.

He shifts, opening his mouth to speak.

"We-"

"I know you were on my computer too."

Simon swallows his words instantly. His eyes were cold, he's gripping his glass just as hard as you are. Taking a long drink. You continue, he doesn't interrupt.

"I care about this team. I care about Price. I care about Gaz."

He expects that to be the end of it, but by the look of determination and the flush on your face, he's wrong.

"And whether you like it or not. I care about whether you and Soap get back from each mission too."

You take a deep long breath, your shoulders sinking slightly. You just wanted it off your chest, your eyes soften and you glance away again.

"You can be as terrifying as you want. You're not going to take this job away from me."

You say. Looking up at him slowly.

"So if you excuse me- .. I'm going to go lose horribly at pool."

You say with an unreasonable amount of confidence. Pushing back from the table to roll towards the group of three. Leaving Simon at the table with your outburst and a half full drink.

He can't help but stare holes into the back of your head. Downing his drink in one gulp. He underestimated you.

{ugh! Feels good to be writing again! Apologies this series will have chapters around this length, not too much longer than 2k at the most. This is kinda a mini fic for now. However! ♥️ Will be taking requests! And if anyone wants on the tag list for this, lemme know!}

[horrorshow]

god bless rhonda hurley. for @spnficrecfest

JUST SO YOU KNOW, I WAS THINKING OF YOU by ficlicks rhonda/dean + sam/dean, 7.7k, nc-17 “If we’re friends then what’s my favorite color?” Dean lifts his head and looks around the bedroom. It’s a tiny room, smaller than the one he shares with Sam. There’s an old white four-poster bed pushed up against the wall with chipping paint and tiny butterfly stickers stuck to the headboard. Her dresser is covered with books, bottles of nail polish and hair clips. On the floor is a laundry basket with freshly folded clothes. Dean scoops up the pair of panties sitting on top and slingshots them at Rhonda. “Pink,” Dean says, crawling onto the bed next to her.

OH SO GOOD, OH SO FINE by deadlybride sam/dean, 7.5k, rated E Zachariah gave them their memories back, but he didn't erase what had happened in the time they were other people. Dean Smith made a mistake, and Dean Winchester--well. He's still living with it.

WITH AUTUMN CLOSING IN by deadlybride sam/dean, 15k, rated E Seven years have passed since then. Sam thought he let it go.

NOT THE GOOD THINGS, NOR THE BAD by deadlybride sam/dean, 20k, rated E Dean wavers in a grey area between being taken and giving in.

THE SECRETS THAT WE KEEP by bexgowen endverse cas/endverse dean, 9.9k, rated E It’s 2014. The Croatoan virus has taken over the world, and Dean Winchester’s brilliant plan to kill Lucifer has failed. Dean should be working on Plan B, but all he’s been able to think about since Zachariah tossed that 2009 version of Dean into Camp Chitaqua was the secret that the younger Dean revealed. The one they’ve kept since they were nineteen years old. The one about the panties.

YOU SAY, GO FAST (I SAY, HOLD ON TIGHT) by hearthouses sam/dean, 11k, rated E This is what Dean looks like blanketed in desert night air. This is what Dean sounds like humming along to Johnny Cash on the local radio station, his thumbs tapping out the rhythm of the song on the steering wheel. This is what will be gone in a few dwindling months. (Mid-Season Three: Sam and Dean take some time away from figuring out how to save Dean from his deal, and live for the moment.)

SYMBIOSIS by deadlybride john/dean, 2.8k, rated E Dean plans a surprise for his dad.

BEDROOM HYMNS by fathersalmon cas/dean + rhonda/dean + dean/baseball team, 8.9k, rated E 5 times Dean Winchester tried to deny his panty kink and the one time he didn't.

PINK AND BLUE by jemariel cas/dean + rhonda/dean, 4.9k, rated E "Would you --” Cas swallows, his voice low and yeah, that’s definitely his ‘I’m horny’ voice, the one that gives Dean the shivers. “Would you like to show me your favorites?”

HUNTER, KNOW THYSELF by imogenbynight rhonda/dean, 2.5k, rated M In which Dean sets up his bedroom at the bunker and remembers his night with Rhonda Hurley.

FRAGILE by dragonspell sam/dean, 3.4k, nc-17 Dean likes to pretend he's the stronger one. But Sam knows just how fragile Dean can be on the inside. Now he just wants the outside to match.

LOVE IN DISGUISE by sleepypercy sam/dean + dean/omc, 4.9k, rated E In order to catch a CEO that's been cutting out hearts, Dean reluctantly poses as a hooker. Sam never expected his brother to look so good in that skirt.

BLUNT by lesson_in_love rhonda/dean, rated R Rhonda Hurley. Dean always thought it was an awful name.

RED LACE by dragonspell sam/dean, 2.3k, nc-17 Dean never thought that Sam would go through with it. He’d thought it was just one of those things—one of the random bits of filth that dropped out of Sam’s mouth whenever he was in the mood.

OH SO FINE by valiant sam wesson/dean smith, 2.4k, nc-17 Sam Wesson really wants into Dean Smith's pants. When he finally manages to get him to say yes, he's shocked to find out that he wears women's underwear under those pressed suits.

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 09)

Soap/Reader - MDNI/18+ AO3 Link

WEDNESDAY — Evening: 2 days until the wedding

The worst part was the pretending. You thought that you’d be in the most pain when you were alone, sobbing in your room, clutching Marlowe like a comfort stuffie, but that wasn’t it. The hardest thing, actually, was smiling when you should be smiling. 

No, the hardest thing was staring down at his bed and knowing you had to sleep in it because why shouldn’t you sleep in it? What reason could you tell her that you weren’t able to climb into his sheets and smell his scent in your nose again?

You couldn’t tell her that the softness of his Rangers jersey felt like thorns to you now. You couldn’t tell her why you’d prefer to sleep on the couch, the floor, outside — anywhere but his bed. No. You had to smile, and it needed to be believable. It couldn’t be a masked grimace through tears like you’d been using to get back and forth from the coffee shop and your bed, unable to even make yourself a boiled egg. 

You’d come down, as planned, for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow night, and the real kicker — the stake that just twisted right into your heart — was that Johnny and his whole team would be down, too. Of course all the hotels (of which there were one) and the bed and breakfasts were booked solid. So, they’d all just crash here, as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing except for you. 

You were anything but ordinary. You were desperate for some sort of relief from the pain in your chest. Every time you looked down at your phone, you felt it. You ignored the 47 missed calls and the countless text messages, keeping it on silent no matter what. You’d gotten calls from him, from all of his friends, even one from Ghost. You didn’t return them. You thought he had even come to your door one night, but you didn’t answer it. You couldn’t. All you could do was tell yourself to breathe, to eat, to shower, and to make it to the next hour in one piece so you could get through this wedding without falling the fuck apart. 

“You all set in here, babe?” Pidge asked behind you, watching you stare down at the empty bed, “Johnny’ll be here in just a bit so be sure to claim the good side before he does.”

She laughed. You laughed. You sounded crazy. 

“Makin’ your favorite tonight. Chicken tikka,” she was talking to you like a parent talks to a child when they know something is wrong but are determined not to pry. 

“Thanks, Pidge. I’ll come help in a moment.”

“Alright,” she smiled again and shut the door. 

You dropped your bag and waited what you assumed was a normal amount of time before heading out into the kitchen, a brave mask on in place of your face.

She set you to work after you washed your hands, and you were grateful for it. Pidge was talking for you, retracing her steps from her hen do, telling you the parts she couldn’t remember. It was as if everything she’d said to Johnny had just disappeared into thin air, and you wondered how much of that was by choice or by accident. She didn’t even remember you getting a cab. 

Now, she was gushing about how amazing her photographer was, and how he was coming down for the walkthrough. You nodded when you needed to nod; you smiled when you needed to smile. 

“...told him you’d stand in for me at the altar.”

“What?” You’d missed something important. 

“The photographer needs to shoot Hamish and I, but we cannae be at the altar until our wedding, obvi, so I told him you and Lachlan would be the stag and hen for that practice shoot. Is that alright?” She was looking at you like she’d made a mistake. 

You shook your head,

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine. No problem. Whatever you need me to do.”

The front door creaked open and you almost dropped the saucepan onto the floor. 

“Pidge?” His voice called through the house. 

“In the kitchen!” She called back. 

You stirred the sauce. 

He must have been staring at you because Pidge made a comment,

“We’re doing chicken tikka. It’s her fav, and I thought she deserved it after what I put her through last weekend.”

“Aye,” his tone was odd, “I’ll go drop my bag. The lads are on their way in.”

You could tell he left the room. It was as if your body could sense it somehow. You wondered if he was staring at the bed. You wondered if it would feel like thorns for him, too. 

Why would it? 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You screamed inside of your mind. Get it together. 

You stirred the sauce. It was the only thing you could do. If someone had tried to take the pan from you, you might have smacked them with it. 

Hamish came up beside you with the cream,

“Ready for me?”

“Sure,” you held your spoon away so he could pour it in. 

“Smells great. Go sit, lass. I poured you a wine. I’ll make your wee plate.”

You smiled at Hamish and marched yourself over to the table. Price came in and saw you sitting there, and after he said hello to Ham and Pidge, he sat next to you in some sort of act of mercy. Hamish poured him a wine as well and they caught up. Small talk. Just the weather. You performed your vanishing act, becoming invisible. 

Until you weren’t. 

His eyes bored into you from the hallway as he made his way into the kitchen. He was forced to sit all the way at the other end of the table, as far from you as he could be, next to Gaz and Ghost. 

Everyone was chatting, drinking, eating. And you worked hard to be unseen. But, he just kept staring. You felt his eyes when you took a bite, when you dropped your fork, when you wiped your mouth… he may as well have been pinning you down with his huge hands; you were so scrutinized. You felt like you were being dissected, a frog on a student’s desk, your heart plucked out for examination. 

What was he looking for? Forgiveness? Wrath? You didn’t know, and you didn’t want to guess. You wanted to melt into the carpet like a fallen ice cube, to evaporate into nothingness so you didn’t have to feel his eyes on you anymore. 

Suddenly, you looked up at him, catching him. Only then did he look away. He must have seen something inside of you that answered his question. 

You cleaned up the plates, making an excuse to do the dishes while everyone else lounged in the den. 

Then, disaster. Hamish cut himself while putting away his knives. Blood rushed out of the cut and down his elbow, dripping onto the counter and the tile. You rushed over with a towel,

“Here, put some pressure.”

Pidge took over for you, and she told you,

“Go check Johnny’s bag. He’s got a wee first aid kit in there, I know he does.”

You looked around for Johnny to make him do it instead, but he’d gone outside to smoke with Price, so you jogged off to his room alone. His bag was on the bed, and you took a deep breath before unzipping it, staying tight to your mission. Then, you spotted the little red kit near the bottom. You pulled it out in a hurry, and the rucksack dropped to the floor, spilling its contents. 

“Shit,” you muttered, bending to clean it up. 

You tossed all the clothes back in, but you noticed a journal that had fallen out. It was splayed open, its spine facing you. Your hands shook a bit as you went to pick it up. Then, you saw the one thing you hadn’t expected to see: you. 

Your face was sketched out in careful detail. There were little scratches of pen for the shadows, and negative space for the highlights. Your eyes were looking off in the distance, and your smile was soft, almost like it wasn’t even there. You looked beautiful. 

You couldn’t help yourself. You flipped the page. You found a map, and a sketch with some attack dogs, but in the margin you saw Sonnet 91. You turned the page again. Your face was everywhere. Your body, your eyes, your hands… you were scattered across the paper in bright blue ink. Then, Sonnet 145. Coffee stains and what may have been blood marred the masterpieces he had left behind. You flipped again, and it was you. Pieces of Sonnet 29. Then you. You were on every page. All of the images of war and maps and guns disappeared and now it was just you, you, you.

Your heart slammed into your mouth and you couldn’t breathe. You thought of golden sunrises across the Urzikstani desert half a world away, imagining him sitting on the open tailgate of a Humvee with this book open in front of him. You thought of how closely he had watched you for months; how his hands had traced the curves of your body so beautifully sketched before you. How he had noticed the three freckles on the side of your eye, the ones you thought no one could see. 

You shoved the book back in the bag and ran back into the kitchen, first aid kit in hand. 

Pidge noticed something was wrong.

“You alright, hen?”

“Just squeamish,” you feigned nausea, pointing to Hamish’s blood. 

Johnny came back in from the porch, looking at you, distress creasing his brow,

“What’s happened?”

“Hamish…” You gestured at the injured man, pointedly avoiding looking at Johnny. 

“Don’t like the sight of blood, thief?” Price asked, using your nickname. In your periphery you could see Johnny stiffen at the comment, but no one else seemed to notice. Price continued, suggesting, “Why don’t we go for a walk.”

“Thanks, John,” Pidge smiled at him, glad that he could tend to you as she was tending to her fiance. 

You let yourself be led out of the house through the front door. Price had you by the arm, none too gently, you thought, and walked you into the cool night air, wrapping his jacket around you and shutting the door. 

He was relighting a fat cigar, letting the smoke linger in his mouth, walking slowly, aimlessly down the path, without a destination in mind, leading you nowhere. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, knowing the answer. 

“No.”

You weren’t sure why you told him the truth. He was just going to run back and report to Johnny. But, there was something in his eyes that made you think he genuinely cared, and you so desperately needed someone to care. 

“Have you listened to his side of it?” 

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

You didn’t answer. You wanted to say no, but something stopped you. 

Price stopped walking, his boots scraping in the gravel of the path, his bright blue eyes icy and a little sad. 

“Listen,” he frowned, “I’ve known Johnny a lot longer than you. I’ve seen him broken. I’ve seen him scared. I’ve seen him mad, and drunk, and happy, and beaten… but I’ve never seen him like this.”

You crossed your arms in his jacket, trying to find some warmth. Suddenly, you felt Price’s finger dig inside of the neckline of your shirt. You almost knocked his hand away, but he put up his other in a sign of peace. And when he found what he was looking for, he smiled. 

He’d pulled out Johnny’s dog tag from beneath your shirt, and you knew you’d been caught. Price held the coin up to you like the sacrament, discovering your shame, bringing your sin out into the open. In that moment, you wanted to bend down on both knees and take it into your mouth, and you wanted him to make you whole again with it. 

“This isn’t like him,” he said, the porch light made the silver gleam, and it blinded you for a moment, “He’s generous enough with his smiles and compliments, but he doesn’t give freely of himself. Not like this. Would’ve thought you’d known. He’s kept himself hidden all this time. But, not from you.” 

You cried. You didn’t want to. You bit your lip and furrowed your brow. You swallowed your spit and tried to breathe through the tears, but they came anyway. He held you to his chest, and you knew his tee shirt would be wet from your weakness, but he kept a steady hand on your back, regardless. 

He tucked the tag back into your shirt and it lay cold against that spot between your breasts; the same spot Johnny had kissed you when he’d taken your guilt from you the first night you’d been together, there, in his bed. You thought Price would make some sort of face, some judgment. But, he didn’t. He simply walked you back inside and held the door for you. 

You went through it on your own accord, and Johnny’s eyes were the first thing to greet you. He raked them over you like a forest fire, burning you from roots to boughs, seeing Price’s jacket over your shoulders and lingering on it for a while until you handed it back to his captain. 

“All covered!” Hamish chuckled, holding up his bandaged finger to you, “Sorry, babes.”

You smiled, 

“No worries. I think I’m just tired from the ride in. Gonna lay down early.”

Pidge caught your attention, 

“Don’t forget, you and Johnny have to make it before two. Pictures are at two.”

You nodded, retreating to what used to be a sanctuary. Now, it felt more like a cell. 

Your goal was to get to sleep before he could join you. You knew it would be too suspicious for him to follow you into his room, so you had the advantage of time. How strange it was to avoid what you had been craving. 

You climbed into the sheets, and you did your best to ignore all of the memories that kept rushing back. The smear of her purple lipstick across his soft earlobe haunted you like a ghost. 

THURSDAY — Midnight: 1 day until the wedding

He came in as quietly as he could, but you woke up anyway. You tried your best to pretend to be asleep, keeping your breathing heavy and long. It was pitch black, and when he sat on the bed, you heard the familiar creak of the coils. 

He pulled the covers back, he fluffed the pillow, he took off his watch, and then he just… laid there. 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting he would do. Wake you up? Demand your attention? You’d shut him out completely. He knew his company was unwanted. 

The dark voice laughed at you in your head. It knew the truth. It wanted him to fight for you. It wanted him to beg for your mercy. It wanted him to take you in his arms anyway, despite your protests. It wanted him to ignore your wishes. It wanted the animal in him to claim the animal in you, to remind you that you were his woman and that he could do with you as he wished. 

But, he wasn’t an animal. He was a man, and he respected you enough to stay on his side of the line. 

It was only when he thought you were well and truly asleep that you felt his finger graze the metal chain of his dog tags on the back of your neck, not heavily enough to wake you, but enough to feel that they were real. You wondered if Price had ratted you out or if Johnny had noticed himself. You thought it was the latter, knowing him.  

You passed out eventually, listening to the sound of his quiet snoring, your pillow soaked from tears that had spilled out across the bridge of your nose. Tears he wouldn’t be able to touch. 

THURSDAY — 2:00PM: 1 day until the wedding

Saint Patrick’s church was quaint, and the interior was minimalistic compared to other Catholic churches you’d visited before. There was something sort of liminal about the space, as if it were unfinished. You wondered what it would look like when it was full of people. 

You were standing at the altar, fake bouquet in hand, pretending to be a blushing bride. The photographer was very much in charge of this ordeal, and he was as outspoken as he was confident. 

“Okay, perfect. See? She’s perfect. Can you be perfect, too, Mr….?”

“It’s Lachlan. Lachlan Black,” he reminded him for the third time. 

“Ugh, okay. Lachlan. If only you were a little more memorable, but my brain just — whoosh!” The photographer, Gary, made a little noise and a motion with his hand like a bird flying through a window. 

“And you’re just too damn tall, you know that?” Gary sighed. 

He looked around the room, appraising all of the bridal party like a dealer at an auction, looking for the solution amongst the chaff. Then, he waved Hamish up from the front pew, getting him to stand. Gary looked him up and down, and motioned for him to sit again. With a snap of his fingers, he said,

“Hey! You. Mohawk. What’s your name again? You know what — that’s enough names actually. Mohawk will be groom instead. Nice and tall, but not too tall. Yes, yes… okay, thank you, Lachlan… buh-bye.”

You were face to face with Johnny at the altar. 

You felt the panic make your blood rush into your cheeks. It was hard to catch your breath. 

Of all the times you’d imagine being at the altar with Johnny, this was certainly not it.

You stared at your fake, paper bouquet and prayed in your mind, loudly, for a sudden plague. Toads, rivers of blood — whatever you’ve got, Heaven! Throw it down here, please. You begged for a miracle or a smiting. Either would do. 

The Lord did not oblige you. 

“Okay… better! Yes, this is much better. Cute. Can you scooch in a bit, mohawk? She doesn’t bite, I don’t think.” Gary winked.

Mohawk scooched in. You dared to look up into his eyes, and when you did, you knew you made a mistake. You were trapped in him and he was trapped in you. You felt like you were frozen in place, unable to breathe or speak or scream, no matter how badly you wanted to. 

You had a whole conversation with him in the span of those few seconds. You asked him why he’d been covered in someone else at the bar. You begged him to give you some evidence that you hadn’t seen what you saw. You told him about all the nights you’d lay awake, about all the times you’d thrown his tag into the corner of your room, only to crawl on your hands and knees to retrieve it, clutching it to you and feeling sorry that you’d done so. 

He was telling you something as well, but you couldn’t hear him. He was screaming it, you knew that much, but it wasn’t loud enough. 

Gary interrupted you,

“Okay, hold hands around the bouquet, pretty please…”

He grasped your hands, and it was so familiar, you almost melted into him. By some magical power, you held yourself together, but as the camera clicked and flashed, with every moment you lost a little more control.

“...annnnnnnd now the kiss? C’mon. We’re all adults here. This lighting is shit — forgive me, Father — and I can’t deal with the actual money shot being trash. Today, people!”

You hesitated. But, Johnny didn’t. He seemed to set himself, his mouth in a tight, resigned line, and then he held your face in his hands, just as gently as he always did. When he kissed you, he really kissed you. He didn’t fake it for the cameras, and he didn’t hide his passion from Pidge or any of the others. You couldn’t help but kiss him back, letting him guide you as he liked, his big jaw shaking a bit as he let go. 

“Perfect! Okay, and now the happy couple is smiling at the crowd…”

Gary took a step back into the aisle, and Johnny held up your hand in the air in mock triumph, posing for a gleeful moment that didn’t exist. You looked right at Pidge, but she was laughing at something Hamish had said, fully oblivious to the war raging right in front of her face. 

“Alright… well, I don’t know if I’d call that smiling, necessarily, but here we are. Okay. Mohawk, you’re done.”

The way Johnny dropped your hand made you feel like you were on fire, as if he could no longer stand to hold you, or like he had been burned. It was sharp, and you weren’t sure what you were expecting. Did you want him to linger? To profess his undying love in front of his sister and ruin her one special day? You didn’t. So you let his absence cut you like a blade, severing you like a limb from a tree. 

THURSDAY — 7:00PM: 1 day until the wedding

The rehearsal dinner venue, the Auchentoshan Distillery, was gorgeous. Johnny had spared no expense on the stylings, and there was food everywhere you looked. The cakes were elegantly plated, the roast hung shining, its drippings making the shank glitter, and even the boiled potatoes made your mouth water. 

Johnny had obviously arranged the table settings a few weeks ago, because you were sat right next to him and Price, across from Gaz and Ghost. Pidge was two seats down, and the rest of the girls were across from her and Hamish. Lachlan and the other groomsmen were on the opposite side. But, other than for the initial dinner, you hadn’t been made to sit by him much at all. He mingled around the room, talking to everyone except for you, making sure all of the cups were filled and all of the faces were smiling. 

He was an impeccable host. His charisma was electric. And he looked upsettingly handsome. He wore a kilt tonight, one of his hunting tartans, with a sharp button down embellished with gleaming pearl buttons. His shoulders were bursting through the fabric, pulling it taut against his wide back. If you looked carefully enough, you could imagine where his tattoo peeked through.

Gaz cleared his throat, whispering low,

“Have you talked to him, then?”

Your eyes tore themselves away from Johnny to stare at Gaz. You checked over your shoulder to see if Pidge had heard him, and he glanced at her, too. 

“No.”

Ghost spoke at full volume, not caring who heard him,

“Are you going to?”

Price dropped his fork so that it clattered on the plate, giving Ghost a chastising glare. 

“She’ll talk to him when she’s ready to talk to him, and it’s none of our bloody business.”

You didn’t hear much else out of Gaz or Ghost, but as they chewed their food, you could tell that they didn’t believe Price for one damn second. It very much was their bloody business.

And maybe it was. Price had certainly made it his business on your walk last night, and it seemed like your relationship with Johnny was slowly becoming everyone’s business. You had tried your best to return to that same old invisibility you were used to, but it wasn’t enough now. You felt like you were on full display.

“Excuse me,” you got up and fled to the bathroom.

When you opened the door, you saw Bekah and Anjali inside, freshening up their makeup. 

“Hey!” They said in high-pitched unison.

“Hey,” you replied, inching by them to get into the stall. 

“Where’d you disappear to the other night, babe?” Anjali called out to you through the door. 

“Just got too drunk. Took a cab,” you told her, hoping that would end the conversation. 

“Fuck,” Bekah laughed, “That was me, too. Did Cherise tell you about that bloke at Max’s?”

“No,” you said, captivated like a prisoner.

“Arsehole thought he could put something in my drink. Soap saw him and beat him within an inch of his fuckin’ life! You should’ve seen the man. Needed a damn doctor, so he did,” Bekah confessed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you said, genuinely. Bekah was not your friend, but she didn’t deserve to be assaulted. 

Anjali laughed,

“Soap had to carry her out! She was stumblin’ all over the road.”

“Wasnae my fault!” Bekah protested, “But, he was a gentleman. Drove me home. Him and Gaz.”

“Oh, that Gaz is fine, no?” Anjali interrupted. 

“Aye. I thought Johnny might kiss me back, just this once, but he still didn’t. That lad is harder to wear down than the goddamn Pope, I swear. I’ve given up.”

“Didn’t you sleep together?” You asked, torturing yourself. 

“God, no! He won’t have any of us. Pidge thinks he has, but I’ve never slept with him. Definitely would though,” Bekah gushed. 

“Hasn’t Cherise?” Anjali asked.

“No! Cannae believe it. All this talk for being a big slut and he’s a choir boy,” you could hear Bekah’s voice get louder with her disbelief.

“Shame,” Anjali lamented.

“Aye, a shame,” Bekah agreed, “Was he a good kisser? He looked it. You were quite a pair up at the altar. Maybe he’d go for you, hen.”

You pulled open the stall door and joined them at the sink. Your hands were trembling. 

“Babes,” Bekah noticed, “Are you alright? You havnae seemed well since the hen do. You’re working too hard for this wedding.”

“I’m alright. I think I just need some fresh air,” you smiled, pushing your way out of the door.

When you walked back into the main hall, everyone was standing. A waitress with a tray found you and handed you a glass of champagne. You moved to the side around the crowd to see what all the commotion was, and it was Johnny. He was standing next to Pidge with his glass raised high, clinking it delicately with the side of his fork. 

“Alright, alright. Settle down,” he smiled at his sister, “I know Lachlan is the one supposed to be up here haverin’ about Hamish, but he was kind enough to give me his go because I needed to talk to my sister.”

His eyes found you and settled there, no longer scanning the crowd. You watched him take a breath before he continued,

“If you dinnae ken me, I am Johnny MacTavish, Sergeant of His Majesty’s Special Air Service —” he was interrupted by proud applause, “Uh, thank you. And I am the younger brother of our darling Brigette here. While I was away, Pidge has taken care of my life for me. She took care of our ma when she was ill, and she buried our da without me. She managed to keep the wee house from fallin’ into the river, and still she has time to volunteer at Saint Mary’s children’s ward on the odd weekend.”

More applause. He paused and went on,

“All that to say, my sister doesnae need anyone. But, love isnae about need. It’s about choosin’ to be with a person who makes you feel like you can be yourself, that you can confess to all the desires and the wants and the hopes and the fears that you have inside of you, and you know that they understand you. They see you for who you are, and they love you for it anyway. 

Love isnae patient, and it certainly isnae bloody kind. It loves to boast! And it falls prey to envy. Love is in a rush, and it eats you alive from the inside out. Love isnae about needing. It’s want, pure and simple. To Hammie and Pidge, may you live a hundred years, and may you want each other endlessly in each of them. Slàinte mhath.” 

“Slàinte mhath!”

You drank your champagne, numb and panicking.

Someone shoved a small microphone onto the strap of your dress, clicking it in place, and you stared down at it while everyone else stared at you, waiting.

You breathed into the mic, listening to your breath come through the speakers. You wanted to talk to him, to tell him you’d learned the truth. But, you were surrounded, literally, by all of his friends and family. There was no worse time for your truth-telling. So, you tried to lean on the speech you remember preparing, mashing it together with words that kept pouring from your heart.

“Hello,” you tried out a smile, “I’ve known Brigette for years, and she is the only real family I have. I’m not Scottish. I know the accent gives it away,” some polite laughter, “But, I’m wearing the MacTavish boar around my neck because Pidge welcomed me here with open arms and took me in as if I had been here the whole time. Like it was the most natural thing to do. She’s selfless in all the ways you should be, and she always promised that I would have a home with her. And I love her dearly for that.”

You spoke directly to Johnny, just as he did to you, 

“I’ve been thinking about selflessness, and about making promises. I’ve been thinking about the type of man who does the right thing, even when it’s hard. I’ve been thinking about the type of man who breaks a promise when he needs to break one, and I’ve been thinking about the consequences of our actions. But, when you love someone, the consequence is just… more love. There’s really nothing else, is there? You could get a shovel and dig until you reach the bottom of the earth looking for them, but there are no real consequences when you’re in love. It trumps… everything.” 

You paused for a long time. Johnny was captivated by your eyes, hanging on every word, and you’d been silent for too long. You said, directly to Pidge,

“So, I hope, when you’re wondering if you’ve done the right thing or not, and you’re digging around for the consequences of that, I hope you just keep pulling out more and more love. Just love all the way down. Forever. Cheers, to Hamish and Pidge.”

“Cheers!”

You finished your champagne and walked over to Pidge. Everyone was applauding and talking loudly again, laughing and sharing their own joys about the happy couple. You were overwhelmed, but you wanted to see her. 

Pidge held out her arms and folded them around you, clutching you tightly to her chest, whispering I love yous and thank yous into your skin. You kissed her on the cheek, whispering to her,

“I’m gonna step outside for a moment, are you alright for now?”

“Yes! Go. Take Johnny with you. When he gets sappy, he starts to hover,” she swatted Johnny away as he leaned in to kiss her, fighting through her protests. 

She gave in, melting into him and smiling as he planted a kiss to her cheek. 

“I love you, Pidge,” he said to her, not letting her go.

“I love you, too, Johnny-boy. And I’m sorry for all the mean things I’ve said. You’ve changed. I dinnae ken what’s gotten into you, but all this…” She looked around at the reception hall, “All this has made me realize that you finally see me, you finally see what I’ve been going through, and I’ve been unfair. Thank you, brother.”

He kissed her forehead, trying to blink away tears as he did so, lingering with his lips on her skin before removing himself from her embrace. 

“C’mon,” he nodded at you and took you by the hand, right in front of her, leading you out to the back courtyard. 

The distillery was situated right next to its water source, north of the River Clyde, and the waters churned from a pump run by the whisky makers. The flow of the water was invigorating and challenging, but the calmness of the lake itself was still and quiet; a dichotomy. It was the same within you, a roiling, tumbling sea of glass, ready to shatter.

Johnny turned and looked at you like he knew what you would say. As he approached you, slowly, he held up his hands, trying to hide that they were shaking, offering peace, carrying no weapon, for once. You unfolded your arms, still clutching yourself around your waist, waiting for him to prove you wrong, for him to confirm the truth you’d overheard from Bekah. 

“Are you willing to hear me now, thief?”

“I already heard,” you said, “From Bekah. And I saw your journal.”

He was speechless. All of the things he’d planned to say to you had dried up, and now he was left chewing on their remains. He put his hands on his hips and looked out at the water,

“I’m so goddamn in love with you, it hurts.”

He pinned you with his gaze, then. Watching you take in his confession. He continued,

“It hurts when I wake up, and it hurts when I go to bed. I dinnae ken how to stop it from hurtin’ like this. Feels like I’m burnin’ up, like I’m on fire inside of me. And when you left me, I…” he had trouble forming the words, “I wasnae… I couldnae ken how bad it would be. It was worse, somehow, and I was prayin’ to whatever god that would hear me for some sort of mercy. And I had none. Until I saw, or I thought I saw…”

He came closer to you, reaching around your neck and pulling out his tags just like Price had done. His eyes shone with unshed tears. 

“You made me hope.”

He took your hand in his and held it tightly, as tightly as he dared, and looked you right in the face, 

“I didnae sleep with Bekah, nor Cherise, nor Anjali.”

“I know.”

“I didnae want to, either.”

“I know.”

“I’m in love with you, mèirleach.”

“I’m in love with you, too.”

Johnny used his tags around your neck to pull you into him, kissing you harshly, not allowing you to let go. You kissed him back, pressing at him with your tongue, tasting the champagne in his mouth, feeling his shaven face bristle against your smooth cheek. He moaned into you, speaking to you in a low whisper,

“Please, mèirleach, forgive me.”

“Johnny, there’s nothing to forgive.”

He hugged you to him and you rested your head against his neck, finally able to relax into him after days of being on a knife’s edge. 

But, you were distracted by the sound of a loud knocking against glass. You turned back toward the distillery and saw Ghost tapping on the huge floor to ceiling window and pointing to a microphone in his hand. You looked down and realized you never handed them back the mic from your speech. You were still wearing it, and the red light was on. 

You showed it to Johnny, stunned by your own idiocy. He spun to see Ghost waving slightly, and the rest of the wedding party — hell, the whole distillery — standing behind him in shock

+=+=+=+=+=+=+

Chapter 10 (Ending)

[shelbystales]

Best Aid - Part Nine

Modern Tommy Shelby x Reader - Masterlist

Previous parts: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8

Summary: you are a young doctor in Birmingham. After a crazy incident, Thomas Shelby shows up at your hospital. You don’t know much about the man everyone seems to fear, but you definitely will.

Warning: swearing

A/N:  Comment and interact, tell me what you think! it means a looot. Hi guyss!!!! long time no see hahaha, sorry for the hiatus, needed some time. Can't promise i'll be back 100% posting every week but i'll try for sure! Gotta say i missed writing :)

English is my second language so I apologize in advance for the grammar mistakes.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

A week has passed since your last conversation with Thomas. In that time, you had only seen each other once when he came to pick up John Doe, now also known as Johnny Dogs. This time apart helped you sort out your feelings about everything you had been through in the past few weeks. 

Surprisingly, the week went by like any other. You kept up with your shifts, visited your mom and brother over the weekend, and caught up on your TV series episodes. It felt like everything had returned to how it was before the man with the incredibly blue eyes walked into your emergency room, and you saved him. 

Back to your normal and safe routine.

As soon as your shift ended, you joined Jeremy and his fiancé, Alan, for a pizza night at their place. You spent the evening eating, drinking wine, and gossiping about everything, from the most unrealistic romances at the hospital to Alan’s latest work presentation.

The evening turned out better than you imagined. Being in Jeremy's company is always great; he's a clown, constantly making everyone laugh, even if not intended. 

Alan, on the other hand, has a geekier style and is a bit more reserved, resembling those cute librarians the main character falls for in a classic romantic movie. They were a perfect match.

After dinner, your stomach ached from laughter and overeating. The fact that you spent the past few hours laughing and getting drunk made you feel like things were back on track again. 

You left their place feeling happy and carefree.

The lobby of your hotel was nearly deserted, with only a few employees and scattered guests, which was odd because the hotel restaurant was usually packed at this hour every day.

As you waited for the elevator, the quiet murmur of the lobby was interrupted by two passing employees whispering about the kitchen being closed for maintenance. “An intern messed something up,” the woman said, her voice loud enough for you to catch.

When the elevator doors opened, Thomas stood there, looking effortlessly handsome. Your heart skipped a beat, and your stomach fluttered nervously. When his eyes met yours he gave a small smile. 

You smiled back, hoping your voice wouldn’t betray your nerves. "Heading up?" He nodded, and you stepped into the elevator. The space suddenly felt much smaller. His presence, his warmth, and that cologne mingling with the faint buzz from the wine, made your pulse quicken. "I didn't even know there was a floor below us" you chuckled, trying to ease your nerves. “Well, obviously, there are several negative buttons here," you pointed to the panel awkwardly. “Funny… I never noticed it before.”

"Just a few parking levels," he said in his smooth Birmingham accent, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "How are you? You seem happy."

"Well, I am," you smiled, butterflies dancing in your stomach. "And also in urgent need of a shower. But I'm good." You leaned against the elevator wall, the weight of your shift and your growing desire for him pressing down on you.

"Had a good night, eh?" he asked, glancing briefly at the notification on his phone.

"Yeah, trying to enjoy myself before next week," you said, "I have 36 consecutive hours on call."

"That's a lot of hours," he said, his eyes flicking back to the screen as new notifications appeared.

"Yeah, but I'm used to it," you smiled. "Is everything ok?” you wondered what was all the fuzz on his phone. 

“Yeah, just having a kitchen mess today” he put his phone back on his back pocket 

“I overheard someone mentiion that it’s closed. A result of some sort of an intern’s lack of care?” you said and watched confused as he frowned 

“Sure. That's what happened” he let out almost as a whisper "you should know that things will start to calm down," he replied, and your smile grew wider. His words gave you a glimmer of hope.

"Good to hear that! What happened?" you asked almost as an impulse.

“I'm not sure you want me answering that Y/n…” he chuckled as he got a cigarette out of his pockets. Will he light it in here? you wondered, but he simply put it to rest between his lips.

“Right…”  You hesitated, your heart pounding, desperate to talk about something else, too afraid to let that subject be the center of your conversation once again. “So, uh, do you have any plans for tonight?” The question slipped out before you could stop yourself, and you immediately regretted it.

Thomas looked at you with a raised eyebrow, a faint smile playing on his lips. His gaze was penetrating, almost as if he could read your thoughts. "Plans?" he echoed, his tone light but curious.

You quickly clarified, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. "Oh, I didn't mean it like that! I was just wondering what you're up to this late at night." You fidgeted with the strap of your bag, trying to appear nonchalant. Begging for the elevator to stop making random stops at almost every floor and finally get to yours, now hating the fact that he gave you one of the top rooms. 

Thomas smiled faintly at your question, his eyes studying you for a moment longer than usual. "Polly is traveling, so I'm checking on things for her and the kitching needs some cleaning up. I'm heading to her room to get the master key"

You nod, trying to hide your slight disappointment at his answer. "Oh, that sounds nice of you," you reply, mentally chiding yourself for asking in the first place. It wasn't like you were inviting him or expecting him to join you, right?. The elevator dinged softly as it reached your floor. “Well, I won't keep you. Have a good night, Thomas."

"You too," he said, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer before you turned and walked down the hallway.

The elevator doors slid shut, leaving you alone with your thoughts. 

Why did you ask that? You mentally scolded yourself again as you walked down the hall to your room as you replayed the encounter in your mind. 

Thomas's presence had a way of unnerving you, yet you couldn't deny the flutter of excitement his proximity brought. As you walked you were already mentally planning your night: a hot shower, maybe some Netflix, and straight to bed. That's all you need right now.

As you settled into your room, the encounter with Thomas replayed in your mind again, like a vivid movie scene. His smile was etched into your memory, and the way he looked at you sparked a warmth deep within. 

Your phone buzzed with a notification, breaking your train of thought. It was a message from Jeremy, asking if you got home okay. You quickly replied, assuring him you were fine and thanking him for the fun evening.

Setting your phone aside, you found yourself unable to shake the lingering thoughts of Thomas. The way his presence seemed to fill the elevator, the scent of his cologne that still lingered in your mind - it all stirred something unfamiliar yet exhilarating.

Suddenly your mind started to play games with you as it imagined his hands on your skin as he kissed you desperately on the elevator. His lips gently caressing your cheek, making his way to the warmth between your legs…His body pressing yours against the cold elevator wall.. fuck! 

You sat on the edge of your bed, a sudden heat spreading through you. You needed a cold shower to cool down and clear your head.

After a refreshing shower that did little to dampen the heat of your thoughts, you settled into the living room, deciding to distract yourself with a Netflix series. The soft glow of the screen and the familiar characters helped ease your mind, at least temporarily. Ozzy nestled at your feet enjoying your presence but trying not to show it, as all cats do. 

The characters on the screen moved and spoke, but your mind kept drifting back to Thomas.The more you thought about him, the harder it was to focus on the TV.

Your mind replayed all the moments you had shared, trying to convince your horny mind that it would be a bad bad idea. But you couldn't deny the pull you felt towards him, a magnetic attraction that left you both excited and unnerved.

You sighed and shifted on the couch, trying to shake off the thoughts. But they kept coming, flooding.Remembering the first time you kissed, how you just felt like ripping his clothes apart.

And just like that, loneliness settled over you like a heavy blanket. The silence was too loud, and the emptiness too vast. You looked around, seeking something to occupy your time, but nothing seemed appealing. The wine you had with Jeremy and Alan had left you with a pleasant buzz, a feeling of warmth and courage that now pushed you towards a decision.

Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the loneliness, but suddenly, you found yourself standing up, driven by an impulse you couldn't quite explain. The thought of Thomas dealing with the kitchen mess alone nagged at you. You had nothing better to do, and the idea of being around him again was too tempting to resist.

Without giving yourself time to second-guess, you  grabbed the bottle of whisky you opened a few nights ago and headed to the door. The walk to the elevator felt surreal, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nervousness. You pressed the button and waited.

As the elevator doors opened, you took a deep breath and stepped inside. The ride down felt both too quick and agonizingly slow, your thoughts a whirlwind of anticipation. You almost gave up the idea and went back to your room a few times. When the doors opened to the lobby, you made your way towards the kitchen, each step filled with a strange sense of purpose.

You knew it was a bit crazy, but the wine had given you the courage to step out of your comfort zone and yes you needed to fuck, and why the fuck not him? 

You reached the kitchen door and paused, taking a moment to steady your breathing and gather the courage to push open the door. 

taglist:

@deanlovescassie @hellstears @randomfanfics02 @literishdegree99 @watersquirtpewpewboomm @hellstears @rito4ka @alexxavicry @atomicsoulcollecto @Violet_19999 @lyarr24 @woofgocows @milkshakelol @knowledgefulbutterfly @watercolorskyy @redhead7799 @star017 @stuckinmylittlebubble @bat-luna-cat @babaohhhriley @scullys—alienpussy @kassieesworld @deepangelstudentsworld @batgurl42 @starlitjellyfish @velenzia @lyarr24 @Sweetiecake180 @musicsweetie21 @lostgirl219 @slaypussypop-21 @nyenye @izzwizz774 @ooldcardigan @kielsegur @nikkialex @1nterstellarcha0s @mariamx1 @swingingmusicalfunnydragon @illuminwtesz @lazyylover

[ghostgorlsworld]

Moondrunk Monster Pt 1 (Ghost x reader)

Hey so this is my first Call of duty fanfic, so the characters might be wack. The general idea for this one is based off of a Love, Death, Robots episode where werewolves are basically in the military.

You're a retired combat medic that made a mistake, costing you your cushy office job. As punishment, you're sent to an active war zone, where you meet the 141, a squad of werewolves that slowly accept you as their own. (I know, I know I'm bad at summarizing)

Warnings: Extreme violence, smut in the future

Part 1

It was odd to think of how much your life had changed in just a few weeks. At the beginning of the year, you were placed in a cushy job at a base where you were paid large amounts of money to stitch up red-faced recruits and perform physicals on the higher ups–it had been nice, a simple existence where you didn’t have to see blown apart soldiers or hold poor boys down while they screamed and screamed.

But things changed, and for the punishment of your mistake, you were flown here. An active warzone deep in the desert, where there were no boyish recruits eager to please, just grizzled soldiers that look at you like an intruder, a hen in the midst of foxes.

When you were younger, this was easier. You had liked the excitement and adrenaline of danger, of scurrying in the heat of gunfire with your medpack to save lives.

Now you’re older, grumpier, and generally out of shape. They hadn’t given you time to prepare before the Colonel shipped you out here, so here you were in an ill-fitting uniform, setting up your medic bay beside the wolf-soldier’s tent because the Captain insisted that was the only space left in camp.

Their original medic had died after both he and his supplies were blasted to pieces. Captain Graves shortly put in a request for an experienced combat medic, and you could imagine his surprise when he saw you step off the plane, a woman in her early thirties, soft from five years of office work.

The Captain, understandably, hated you. He was saddled with an overweight female medic and a squad of wolves, you were sure the combination put a few extra gray hairs on his head.

Ironically, wolf-soldiers were highly sought after in the military. They were quicker, stronger, and smarter than even the best of the best, able to walk barefoot in the desert without a blister or sniff out an enemy from miles away. You had seen a wolf blown nearly in half get up and walk out of your tent the next day. 

Captain’s group was a particularly intimidating bunch. There was Johnny–or Soap, as he preferred–a mohawked wolf with charming blue eyes and a deadly sense of humor. Gaz was the sweetheart of the bunch, smiling at you in a friendly sort of manner whenever you were forced to sit at the end of their lunch table.

Price was their leader, a wide man with a deep voice and commanding presence. Honestly, he reminded you of your father.

Then there was Ghost, the wolf in the skull mask. He was the biggest, all broad shoulders and muscles encased in a healthy layer of fat–and, from what you had learned from your patients, the most dangerous.  

On your first day, you had to dig a piece of shrapnel the size of your hand out of his shoulder. Ghost refused when you offered wolf-friendly pain medication, seeming to enjoy your expression as you watched the skin around his gaping wound knit itself back together.

The other soldiers disliked them, simultaneously jealous and fearful of their abilities . The 141 were excluded from the rest, much like you were, so you spent meals at  the other side of their table, minding your own business with a novel.

They didn’t seem to mind, after all, you spent half your time digging bullets out of them when the other medics refused to touch them. They weren’t used to humans being kind to them. 

You quickly adjusted to life in the desert, sleeping in the back of the med bay in a rickety cot while your patients tossed and turned through the night. You got used to the early mornings and the shitty food, the screaming, the blood, settling back into a life that you had thought you left behind.

This morning was no different. You wake to the noise of shouting, the dark sky telling you it was far from morning. 

“Where the fuck is the medic?” Price’s voice dominated over the others. You quickly stumble out of bed, shoving your legs through your pants and hastily buckling them as you hurried outside, wiping the sleep from your eyes. 

The scene before you was gruesome. Gaz lay prone on the ground, throat slashed and guts strewn out of his belly like noodles.

If he were a man, he would be dead.

But even a wolf can die, and a body can’t heal around its  own intestines.

You were awake in an instant, shouting orders to the men around you as you dropped to your knees. His pulse was slowing as more blood pooled into the dirt, his body unable to replace what he was losing so quickly. 

The thing about werewolves is that they are partially human, which allows them to take human blood in small doses if the need calls for it. But the issue was the blood itself. 

Every week, you get a shipment of fresh, cold O-negative blood, giving you ample supply for every occasion. But a sandstorm had interrupted the usual shipment yesterday, and while you knew that the shipment was supposed to arrive at noon later today, that didn’t help you now.

Gaz gagged, blood gurgling from his throat.

“Shit, shit,” Soap said, his mohawk slicked with his friend’s blood. “Is he gonna make it, doc?” Soldiers huddled around you, supplies in their hands. You ripped strips of gauze and placed them over his throat, slowing the bleeding before you started on his gutted stomach. 

“We’re out of transfusion blood,” you announced. “Is any soldier here O-negative?”

Silence. No human soldier would volunteer to give his own blood to a wolf. 

Except you. You nodded, swiping an alcohol swab into the crease of your elbow before connecting the two of you with an IV, the bright red of your blood flowing into his veins at the gasps of both human and wolf around you.

It would stir up the healing process so you worked quickly, Amon, another medic, joining you as you worked on closing his stomach.

It felt like hours before his pulse grew strong again, but you knew it could only be ten, twenty minutes. You slid the IV out of your arm, blinking as black spots appeared in your vision.

You might have given a bit too much. 

Gaz looked at you, his dark eyes replaced by an eerie yellow stare. A chill stole up your spine. 

 “Good morning,” you said through numb lips, taking a peek under the gauze on his throat. It was now only a pale scar, just a memory of a wound. “Look at that, soldier, you’re practically brand new.”

Gaz smiled weakly, his head falling back into the dirt. Soap whooped, gripping your shoulder in a vicious hug. “Good job, lass, I thought the pup was gone for sure.”

You stumbled at the weight of him, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Amon, will you get him set up in the infirmary? I think I need a moment.”

Price waved Soap off, gripping your elbow in a guiding hold. “Ease off the poor girl, Johnny, she’s dead on her feet.”

Soap merely grinned apologetically, ruffling your bedhead with a rough palm before helping the others move Gaz into the infirmary. 

Ghost stood behind you, a reaper in sand-colored tactical pants. Price pushed you gently into Ghost’s direction, “Get her something to eat, Lieutenant.” “I’m alright,” you tried to insist, a spike of nerves in your belly about being with Ghost. He was the least human of them all.

“That was an order, doc,” Ghost said, his voice a dry rumble as his hand fell on your shoulder. “Go on.”

You allowed yourself to be herded to 141’s tent, having half a mind to curl up in one of their bunks and sleep until dawn, free from the smell of blood and antiseptic. 

Their tent was neat and smelled, well, like an animal den–not unpleasant, just overwhelmingly…male. 

Ghost nudged you towards the sink without a word. 

It took you a moment to see that you were still wearing gloves, caked in Gaz’s blood. You stripped them off, then began soaping up your hands and forearms, scrubbing the red from your skin.

When you were clean, you hovered over a cot, about to take a seat for your shaky legs.

Ghost stiffened from where he was crouched, his hands in a tub of supplies. “Not that one.” You glanced down, seeing the Scottish flag on the wall, the photos of a couple that looked exactly like Johnny. “Oh, sorry.” 

He jerked his head to another cot, this one bare of any decoration except for a cold cup of tea. You assumed it was Price’s, perhaps he doesn’t mind the stench of a human on his sheets.

You took a seat, your hands trembling in your lap. Ghost tossed an army bar your way. “Eat,” he said, in a tone that didn’t invite an argument. 

“Ew,” you said, eyeing the packaging. He gave you a dark-eyed look, the kind that probably made wolves bare their bellies and whine. “Oh fine,” you huffed, tearing into it. It was awful, the kind of chalky that let you know they stuffed enough nutrition and calories in the bland, tasteless bar to keep a soldier going for days. You chewed and watched Ghost shift around in the makeshift kitchen, heating a pot of water over a spindly propane stove.

Was he making-

“Drink this,” Ghost said, passing over a cup of tea. He kept one for himself, pulling up a chair to sit across from you. He was still filthy from whatever mission the Captain had set them on, blood and dirt smeared over his gear and mask.

“Thank you,” you said, sniffing it doubtfully. You were American, so you didn’t have much taste for tea unless it was iced and sweet. 

But when someone like Ghost makes you a cup of tea, you drink the fucking tea.

He nodded, turning away from you so he could lift his mask over his mouth to drink his tea. You looked away quickly, focusing your attention on the Scotland flag on Soap’s corner.

The two of you sit in silence for a long time, long enough that your cup is drained and you’re blinking heavily at the darkness still outside.

“Go on,” Ghost said, slipping the cup out of your hand.

You hide a yawn, pushing yourself up from the bed.“It’s alright, LT, I’ve got my own bed somewhere.” “You have half a dozen men in your tent, love.” Ghost backed you up against the bed, his heavy hand on your shoulder. “Sleep. We’ll keep an eye on Kyle.”

It made sense. You kicked off your boots and curled up on the cot, hiding your throbbing head in a pillow that smelled like gunpowder and musk. 

Ghost ducked out of the tent as you laid down, your eyes falling on a skull mask folded up neatly beside the cot.

It was then that you realized this was his bed.