#johnny Tsunami

[imstuckin1999]

Who was your Dcom crush 《y2k era》?

[zappedbyzabka]

Pete-y

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

Johnny Tsunami (1999)

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐RATING⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

WILL 8 Hijacked Military Planes ✈️ | SABRINA 9 Hijacked Military Planes ✈️

[johnnythestoic420]

Johnny Tsunami over here

[soweirdondisney]

Erik von Detten sat down with TMZ.

EvD said he gets most recognized for The Princess Diaries and Brink! and hasn't taught his kids to rollerblade since they're still so young. He also shares who he's still in contact with!

"As far as being in contact with the old Brink! crew, the one I do keep in touch with the most is Patrick Levis who played Peter."

His conversation was inspired by Jason and Travis Kelce mentioning Brink! on New Heights.

You can watch their full episode here, but all the DCOM content is in the first few minutes. (The chapter bar is accurate so you can follow that.)

Jason opened the show discussing his brother's nomination for a Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Award and that leads to them discussing SpongeBob SquarePants, and Dragon Ball Z. Jason continues that he watched Dexter's Laboratory, Ed Edd and Eddy, and Johnny Bravo.

Travis isn't enthused by the list, and Jason goes on to discuss loving Doug and Hey Arnold. They do get Rocket Power confused as a Disney show, but it doesn't take long for Jason to ask if Disney shows were better than their movies.

The DCOMs they mention are:

Brink!

Johnny Tsunami

Travis: "Dude, those were so good... We were big time rollerbladers in the Kelce household."

The Luck of the Irish

Travis: "Very underrated movie. It's solid."

Hocus Pocus

Smart House

Zenon: Girl of the 21st Century

Halloweentown

Jason: "I kind of like that one more than Hocus Pocus."

Alley Cats Strike

Even Stevens Movie

Travis: "I always wanted to be the older brother in Even Stevens."

I've no idea what list Jason used except that Johnny Tsunami was at #11, and he was not impressed with their rankings. "I just saw what they put ahead of Johnny Tsunami and they're missing the mark."

This isn't the first time Travis gets close to So Weird. Back in 2022 our executive producer Henry Winkler hung out with the Chiefs for a game, and we saw his and Travis had matching shirts after.

[slyandthefamilybook]

Mom Can't Cook ep. 44 Spoilers out of context

[aimmyarrowshigh]

Amanda Conrad "Go Big or Go Home"

[trademarkstraggler]

Why does no one remember Johnny Tsunami it is literally such a good movie

[mourningmage]

literally searched for an hour through video interviews with kenny and johnny for when they talk about opening for NIN bc its hilarious but i cant find it but i did find a documented interview where johnny briefly mentions it and i take some liberties to express how i imagine it

[gloomwitchwrites]

could you do one about all the members of 141 if the reader is super sensitive during sex, squeaks and squirms, cries but she likes it she’s just very responsive

Sensitivity during sex is subjective as everyone is different in that regard. So, here is my little offering to you, anon.

Content & Warnings: unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), dirty talk, missionary, established relationship, teasing, overstimulation, cowgirl, mirror sex, vaginal fingering

John “Soap” MacTavish: Soap is a bit of a tease. (wc: 374) Kyle “Gaz” Garrick: Kyle talks you through it. (wc: 457) John Price: Wants you to watch. (wc: 404) Simon “Ghost” Riley: Simon pins you down. (wc: 391)

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny is a tease.

“How’s that feel, love?” he croons with a mischievous smile.

You whimper. Gasp. His hands upon your skin are simply too much.

Without an answer, Johnny goes down on one elbow, changing the position. He’s not even thrusting anymore, simply holding himself inside you, keeping your legs spread wide over his large, muscled thighs.

“Can’t use your words?” he mocks lightly as the tips of his fingers tenderly graze over a hardened nipple.

At the same time, he sinks a bit further, thighs spreading slightly, pushing your legs even wider. You’re unable to do much but writhe and wiggle beneath him. He always does this. Always teases. He loves how sensitive you are, and how your body comes alive beneath him. All the little sounds you make, all the sharp shakes and shivers, only motivate Johnny to draw forth more.

“What will happen if I touch you here, hm?” he asks, his hand dipping between your bodies. When Johnny says “here,” he runs his finger around the place your bodies meet.

Your cry is loud, and it only becomes louder when he trails upward to circle your clit. His name is there, on the very tip of your tongue, but each touch is a zap, stealing your voice.

But this touching and teasing isn’t cruel. You love every second. It only makes the end that much more electric.

“And here, love? What would happen?” he murmurs.

While still moving over your clit, Johnny leans forward, his tongue circling and then sucking your nipple into his mouth. Your body immediately contracts, every muscle tensing then relaxing. A little shiver rattles up through your spine and out to the edges of your limbs. It causes you to squirm, the sensitivity nearly overwhelming.

But there is nowhere for you to go. You are not only pinned to the bed by Johnny’s upper body but by his cock.

Johnny releases your nipple, his mouth forming a smug smile. “Suppose you need some relief, yeah?”

You curl into him, fingers digging into his skin. Johnny brushes your hair out of your face, and that too makes you tremble.

“Lie back,” he soothes, and you melt, molding to the bed as he flattens himself above you.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle talks you through it.

“That’s it. You’re doing so well.”

“That’s my girl. Look at you.”

Kyle delicately guides your legs toward your chest. You’re bent at the knees, trembling, breathing coming fast and heavy. Every touch of his is like a brand against the skin. It is an overwhelming tsunami.

“Kyle,” you beg. “Please.” You don’t even know what you’re begging for. Maybe for it all to end even though you crave the sensation.

“Gotta control that wiggling love.”

“I—I can’t,” you whimper, thighs trembling as he puts you into position.

Kyle parts your pussy with his fingers and you cry out. He tuts and then inserts two fingers. Your hips instantly buck and your back arches, wanting to escape from him.

“No no. None of that, love.” Kyle lightly presses down on your stomach, holding you still as he curls his fingers up and drags them, repeating the motion.

Again, you cry out, and then tears sting your cheeks as you claw at the bedding.

“Control your squirming and I’ll give you what you want.”

“You’re awful,” you whimper, every muscle in your body twitching, wanting to move.

“Do what I say, love. Know you can.” You inhale and Kyle chuckles softly. “That’s it. Good. Exhale. Again.”

He has you repeat the process until the muscles in your limbs calm.

Kyle’s hands retreat, and then he reclines beside you, rotating onto his back. His hand palms the base of his cock, stroking gently.

“Get on top, love. Hands on my chest. You control the pace.”

With a gentle tremble, you swing one leg over Kyle’s thighs, straddling him. You do as he instructs, placing your hands on his chest and angling your hips. He guides himself to your entrance, the head of his cock pushing in, stretching you wide, the sensation shooting up your spin and as well as to the tips of your toes.

“I know you can take it. Fuck, love. That’s it. Good.”

You slowly slide down on him, groaning loudly, nails digging into his chest as you impale yourself on him.

“Oh—fuck.” Kyle’s hands are on your thighs, running up and down them in a caress.

It takes every bit of your concentration to focus on the rhythm of your hips. You’re overly sensitive, and this position reaches deep, hitting that sweet spot every time you come down on him.

“Kyle,” you beg, but it’s without meaning. You just need to talk, to say something, to verbalize your need in whatever way you’re able.

His answer is a groan. “That’s it. Fuck, love. You feel amazing.”

Slowly, your eyelids open, and you’re greeted with a beautiful sight.

“Don’t fucking stop,” he says, one hand sliding between your breasts.

John Price

“Look at yourself, love.”

You are unable to move. Unable to squirm.

John has you spread wide over his thighs like a sacrificial offering. His knees are bent toward the ceiling and just parted enough that you cannot move your legs while draped in his lap. He’s got you impaled on his cock, and he is downright fucking smug about it.

While the motion of your legs is useless, you also don’t have your arms. John has them propped above your head because he doesn’t want you touching him or himself. His own muscles forearms snake up and over your upper arms. It allows you no control, but allows John everything. He can touch your breasts like this. He can touch your clit, your neck, and whatever else he wants.

John rocks and rolls his hips, dick appearing and then disappearing back into your pussy. All you can do is flex your hips a bit but it isn’t enough. You are completely trapped. At his mercy. And the sensitivity is overwhelming.

Without any control, you have to submit to John, and while you love it, it only rockets every ripple of pleasure that much higher.

“See what I have to do,” he murmurs into your ear. “You can’t stop moving.”

Tears bloom in the corners of your eyes like tiny dewdrops. You are far too sensitive for this. John is pushing you into overstimulation.

John nips at your earlobe and you gasp. “Look,” he prompts.

The closet door is open. Not by much, but enough that the mirror that hands on the inside faces the bed. Within, you see yourself, and John. You see how splayed out you are, how needy and pathetic you look in his arms.

“Look,” he says again. “Want you to watch.”

It takes all your effort to focus. Every time John rock his hips upward, his brush of skin against you is fire. It causes everything in you to react and jump. But you cannot writhe. Cannot move.

And that only makes you more frustratingly coiled with untamed need.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, eyelids heavy as you gaze upon the spot where your bodies meet, and how much your body stretches to accommodate him. You can see how your chest heaves, the tightness building and overwhelming your senses.

“Now you see what I see,” murmurs John as his hand delves downward to give you some relief.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“Quit your squirming.”

“Then don’t be cruel,” you moan, nearly jumping out of Simon’s arms when he sharply thrusts upward.

Simon’s teeth nip at your throat and this time your body jerks, almost sending you out of his lap.

“Stay still,” he growls, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs.

“You know how sensitive I am.”

“I do. Fucking love it.”

Simon wraps his arms around your waist. It’s an embrace, and yet there is power behind it, the muscles there tensing with anticipation. You inhale, and your exhalation is stolen from you.

Simon twists, and you go with him, rolling onto your back.

You squeak loudly only to be pinned against the bed. “Simon—”

He crushes his lips to yours, his tongue delving for your taste. The only sound you make is a whimper. “But sometimes,” murmurs Simon against your lips. Your squirming gets in the way.”

Using his body weight, Simon drives in at a harsh angle, hitting that sweet spot deep inside. That vibration of pleasure ripples outward, and your body reacts as it always does. But you cannot writhe and wiggle. Simon is too heavy, and he knows this, which is why he’s pinned you.

“Oh—fuck. Simon. Plea—. Please.”

“Please what?” laughs Simon softly before moving inside of you again.

The only reply you can make is a strained moan.

Simon grins, completely smug. “Tuck in, love. I’ll give you something to squirm about.”

Simon wraps your wrists up in one hand, pinning them above your head. He starts to thrust in earnest, his free hand holding the side of your throat. He watches on as tears come to your eyes. Your body wants to move, to buck and arch against him, but you are completely trapped.

Simon leans in, kisses the spots on your cheeks stained with tears. The only thing you can move are the bottoms of your legs. You wrap your ankles over his bulging calves and cling.

Every stroke and brush of his skin against yours is a roaring fire, rocketing you toward overstimulation. Words fall from your lips but they are elusive, just white noise in your ears. You know that you’re crying, that you’re speaking to him, that you’re attempting to move.

But Simon is relentless, claiming every inch of your body like he always does.

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[yeyinde]

in connection to the previous post about simon/price’s dynamics; do kyle and johnny have similar dichotomies w their loves ?

i love the surge in SoapGaz because we really get to see how insane these two really are together lmao but yeah. charm and obsession is kinda how i see them.

both are intense, bold. their attention makes you feel like a bug under a microscope, but not at first. when it first happens, it's a spotlight. red carpet. dizzying. who wouldn't go a little insane having such an intense, gorgeous man lazer all his focus on them? and the way they do it is fan-ish. an unfathomable concept to wrap your head around until you have a man checking every single box you've ever had, raising the bar to an unreachable height as they shower you with unparalleled attention.

but the problem is, you don't see all the red flags because their personalities blind you to it. a little bit like a tsunami. you don't see the wall looming in front of you when the water recedes because you're too busy staring at the pretty seashells they uncovered for you.

with them, it's all charm, manipulation, and an unhinged obsession to the point where they're not content to simply be with you. they need you rooted so deeply to them that you just can't be without them.

Gaz slowly, steadily breaks down every wall you've ever had and rebuilds it around the two of you. locking you inside. sealing the exit. and you let him. because why wouldn't you?

Gaz is mature. a rock. he's someone who immediately feels untouchable; a phantom in a dream you can't ever seem to catch. but when you finally get him, it's almost fantastical. he's solid. steady. takes everything single thing you throw at him and tidies it up for you. ailments, illnesses. quirks. nothing seems to phase him. there's not a single thing you could try and leverage against him to see if he'll leave because he has an answer to it all. he doesn't mind going to physiotherapy with you. he reminds you to take your pills. gentles you into submission. peels back the layers slowly and examines every single part of you until nothing is without his fingerprints.

Gaz leaves you yearning. there's nothing else after him. no one else.

(and if you happen to slip away, he makes sure of it. stalks you, the people you date. threatens them with a flash of his canines and eyes that look far more wolfish than they should. isolates you slowly. methodically. narrows your world down to just him and ensures you'll come crawling back.

what else is out there for you when he's the Perfect Man? just ignore the stench coming from the closet.)

Soap is tumultuous. a whirlwind. the sirens wail warning you of a tornado but he's already ripped your house apart by the time you hear it. his attention is undivided. blistering. he's too handsome for his own good. too sweet, too. lures you in with roguish charm and devoted from day one. if you met on a dating app, he's deleting it before the first conversation is over. doesn't need it anymore, he says. he found the one. with Soap, it's the most intense relationship you've ever been in. a nonstop marathon of everything: conversations, future plans, sex. he dotes on you, but doesn't treat you like you're made of glass. showers you in affection, attention. makes you feel wanted in every conceivable way.

without him around, you feel dazed. confused. waking up on the beach after falling asleep under the sun. a little sunburn and sick.

and that's how you stay without him. a sigh of relief, at first. the silence is blissful. but then you hit a wall. you stagnant. he's the human version of a serotonin hit and the moment he leaves, you're left feeling empty. sucked dry.

it just makes sense to go back.

they pull you in, strip you bare. wrap themselves around your neck like a boa constrictor but where Soap takes a bite right away and then breaks you down, Gaz plays the long game of slowly coiling around you until it's too late.

[sinimake]

Opposites-Attract headcanons of Johnshi

I love putting opposing traits to my ships more than anything so enjoy!

Kenshi is pretty low maintenance. All he needs is clothes on his back and Sento, that's it. Probably can survive zombie apocalypse on his own while Johnny must have his grooming essentials with 10-step skin routine, a cup of coffee with the exact milk-sugar ratio at 9am sharp in the morning or he will DIE

Johnny is glued to his phone, always taking pics and documenting things while Kenshi doesn't even know where the fuck is his phone half the time

Also Johnny is texter and Kenshi is caller/voice message sender

When Kenshi is angry, he blazes like fire. One look at him and you know he's fucking pissed. While Johnny is silent rager. He will appear fine and brush off things convincingly good with his acting skills till he snaps. Like ocean pulling back its tides just to slam whole ass tsunami upon its victims.

They're both ambiverts but different flavors of ambiverts. Johnny makes friends with everyone, always chats and charms. He somehow knows the lifestories of people he met even briefly. However Johnny gets overwhelmed a lot that he needs his down time or he will start becoming murderous. Kenshi, on the other hand, rather die than make a small talk but he is a natural leader who can read people very well.

Johnny is chronically online and Kenshi is deliberately internet illiterate

People think Johnny is the rulebreaker while Kenshi's the voice of reason but they get it so wrong. Johnny is all about being pompous and mischievous but when the shit starts becoming serious and so much real, he panics. Kenshi though? He will charge head first into a trouble swinging and crackling. He didn't want to break the rules, but if it must, Kenshi will twist that notch to extreme.

Johnny is a picky eater and Kenshi will eat anything. That's why Johnny cooks almost all the time bc their criterias for "food" are vastly different.

Johnny exists in the public eye. He thrives in people's love and attention while Kenshi is shunned and feared for his past in the crime organization.

Kenshi is paranoid while Johnny is bit too confident sometimes

Johnny thrives on routine and schedule since he's a busy celebrity, he plans ahead and sticks to it. On the other hand, Kenshi just goes along with wherever the wind takes him.

However, when it comes to training, Kenshi is all about going by the book. Breathing exercises, meditation, stances, katas, footwork, practices, and everything, he follows them through to build up discipline. But Johnny? He just wings it bc it's all natural talent, baby! If you ask him how he does some moves, he will just shrug and say "it feels right that way"

Their fighting styles differ, too. Johnny is light on feet, flexible, fast, and slips through guards like a shadow. Kenshi is grounded, steady, tough, and even his blade swings are focused on elbow movements than in wrists.

Adding on the previous point, Johnny's name is a reverse pun of Kage, which means "shadow" in Japanese. On the other hand, Sento's powers are represented through glowing lights, hence creating the opposite elements of Light and Shadow in Johnshi

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 9

Chapters Masterlist

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Tags: @cmbghost @gluttonybiscuits @paintlavillered @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @keiraslayz

@iimichie @mxtokko @chocolate-noodles @akurab @xoxobooksstuff

The waterfall, as expected, was a small one, but no less delightful to see. The falling water cascaded in a white, bubbly froth over the mossy rocks that naturally arranged themselves in steps, and spilled into the large plunge pool below. The rush of water, the chirp of birds, and the rustle of trees in the breeze relaxed everyone…

Except Johnny.

Restless as he was, he immediately threw off his t-shirt and cannonballed into the water to have a dip, making a splash that almost rivalled a meteor falling into the sea. The ladies, who were washing the sweat off their faces by the banks, were victims of this mini tsunami.

“John! Stop splashing around so much!” screeched Lindsey, her face flushed with annoyance as she watched him doggy paddle in the deeper part of the plunge pool. 

But that only provoked him to splash around some more and laugh at the annoyed look on her face. “C’mon, dinna fash yersel. It's a braw day, have some fun!” he chortled as he dove and resurfaced, mimicking a shark.

Simon watched Johnny's antics in the water and wanted to get in for a swim too, but hesitated. If it weren’t for the ladies, his shirt would be off and he’d be in the water in an instant.

“Are you gonna swim, Ghosty?” asked Gaz, who had also taken off his t-shirt and was doing a couple stretches before he could take a dip.

“No, I’m fine.” Simon shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“You sure, mate?” Gaz’s eyes flickered briefly towards the ladies as he leaned close to whisper, “You know you can show off those guns to her, right?”

He glanced at ____, who was now sitting on some rocks next to Lindsey, having their feet dipped in the water. He could take Gaz’s advice and he knew his body was impressive, but other things about his torso made him conscious. 

“Come on, don’t be such a pussy,” Gaz nudged Simon’s arm, smirking, “She’ll like it. And besides, you don't want her to be taken by someone else, do you? Might as well show her that body and secure her, yeah?”

That flipped the switch for him. 

“Right then, fuck it.” He instantly took off his shirt and threw it aside. 

The two then climbed up the rocks by the banks and dove into the water to join Johnny. While Lindsey was busy now secretly giggling watching the Scotsman, ____ got her once in a lifetime opportunity to see Simon with far less clothes than usual. 

Except for the pair of his knee-length shorts, he was naked. His skin was pale except the slight tan on his arms and upon his pecs were etched a few more tattoos similar to the sleeve tattoo on his arm. His body was built and muscular like that of an active soldier or a firefighter, with broad shoulders, well built pectoral and abdominal muscles, and built arms. All his muscles were built to be usable and not for display, and he actually looked strong. 

She stared, borderline ogled even, scanning every last bit of his exposed torso, wondering about how strong he was and how much he could carry without breaking a sweat. Of course, all of this was precious information that Frederick would inherit. 

“Babe, look at them!” Lindsey nudged ____ out of her reverie to direct her sight to the fun that the men were having. 

Simon and Johnny managed to find two large sticks and, pretending to be mediaeval swordsmen… or gladiators engaged in a duel, both screaming “En garde!” and “you fool!” at each other as they clashed sticks. Gaz was busy filming it all and egging them on to fight. 

“Boys will be boys,” remarked Lindsey with a chuckle as she too took a video of them. “Men find stick, men play with stick, men happy,” she added, looking at her friend to hear her thoughts. 

But ____ didn't hear a word Lindsey said. She was far too busy storing her mental database with the sights of the men frolicking, stick-fighting, and throwing water at each other. 

The sight that took the cake was Simon's smile. It wasn't his usual polite little smiles or his teasing smirks, but a full-blown grin of pure enjoyment and happiness. She watched the way his cheeks, flushed with exertion, raised up to his eyes; how his nose crinkled. His laughter was a loud roar, surprisingly, louder than those of his two friends. Pulling her legs up to her chest, she rested her chin on her knee and watched Simon with a dreamy eye, completely taken in by how handsome his genuine laughter made him, yet another thing for Frederick to inherit.

“I caught a fesh!” came Johnny's scream after some minutes of brawling in the pool. The two ladies looked and indeed, the Scotsman was found standing in the middle of the water holding up a huge, writhing fish in his hands like it was a trophy. “Oi Gaz, take ma picture! I need tae put this on ma Instagram.” 

“Bruv, did you catch that with your bare hands?” exclaimed Gaz as he came up with his camera, taking a couple photos while the Scotsman waded towards the banks, posing with his prized catch. Johnny announced that he did, and then explained his unorthodox process.

“Your bum’s out the window,” Simon, who now joined them, decided to let Johnny know that he wasn’t making any sense.

“Say it in a Sco’ish accent, mate,” Johnny piped, smirking, “It’s ‘yer bum’s oot the windae’,” 

“Right then, it looks like we're having fish and chips for lunch today.”

“Fuckin’ pussy,” Johnny teased, rolling his eyes.

The men decided to emerge from the water and call the ladies to prepare to return to the cabin. As they trudged back, Johnny excitedly showed off his catch to Lindsey, who he found out wasn't very keen on fish. The Scotsman, taking full advantage of it, would try to sneakily touch her arm with the cold, wet fish, making her squirm and shiver. Johnny and Gaz lightheartedly teased her for being averse to a dead fish, but she didn’t find it funny at all. 

After they reached the cabin, Simon immediately hit the shower, and Johnny and Gaz helped the ladies unload the car. Johnny had the ladies take all of their personal belongings inside the cabin and encouraged them to explore when they were done. And so they did. 

The interiors were filled with the pleasant scent of aged wood mixed with the musty smell of dust, which made Lindsey open the uncurtained windows to let in some fresh air. The small living room had two plastic covered couches in the center, facing each other. Across was a clean furnace and mantel made with stone, empty, clean, and undecorated. On their left was a moderately sized kitchen equipped with basic tools and vessels, and on their right were two empty bedrooms which the ladies wandered into. One king sized bed sat in each room, and one bathroom united both the rooms in the middle. The bathroom was occupied by Simon, who was busy washing himself inside after the swim. 

When he had finished and was dressed in fresh clothes, he threw his bath towel over his wet head and was about to step out when he overheard the ladies talking. 

“Oh, where is my camera when I need it?” he heard ____ exclaim.

There was a pause, and then a surprised quip from Lindsey, “What’s this, why’d you bring your Little Simon?”

Bigger Simon had to do a double take. 

Deathly curious to know what this ‘Little Simon’ was, he cracked open the door slightly and peeked out. He saw a stuffed toy in Lindsey’s hand, a skeleton plush, the very one he won for ____ at the arcade. 

His eyes widened slightly. His heart picked up speed. “She calls it Little Simon?” 

He wasn’t sure what to even feel, but he definitely felt a flurry of butterflies in his stomach. “But why?” And then he remembered that it was probably because of his skull printed mask, the motorcycle gloves, and his tattoos. 

“I kinda can’t seem to go anywhere without him,” he heard ____ say softly in response to Lindsey, sounding a little shy as she took the soft toy from her friend’s hand and stuffed it back in her backpack and continued looking for her camera.

“You have the real man himself, and you’ll be around him until tomorrow morning,” Lindsey answered with a teasing smirk.

“I know, I know,” ____ chuckled, “But still, I have a bit of an attachment to this little guy.”

“Because he gave it to you,” Lindsey playfully shoved her friend’s shoulder. “You know, I might be a little reconciled to you two being a thing, especially after he helped you hike today.”

____ smiled at that. “I’m glad to have your approval, mum.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lindsey rolled her eyes, also smiling.

Simon, in the meantime, had to keep himself from punching the wall to keep his joy at bay. Although he shouldn’t have eavesdropped, he still gained valuable insight on ____’s feelings for him. His cheeks flushed red, his chest felt like it was going to explode, and an uncontrollable smile tugged his lips until the muscles in his face felt sore. 

“Let's fucking go!” Simon clenched his fists, smirking triumphantly, “Alejandro, you absolute fucking loser.”

The ladies soon found the camera, took their photos and then stepped outside the room. Only then did Simon finally step out, exhaling heavily and pressing his damp bath towel on his warm face to cool it down. 

He gingerly stepped out of the room, pausing to hear if the ladies were still around. It was silent. Exhaling again, he promptly stepped outside to find out what everyone was up to. Johnny and Gaz were setting up the tent, and the ladies were helping them secure the pegs in the ground.

“Ghosty!” Johnny called as soon as Simon was out the front door, “Can ye chop up some wood? We need tae get the fire pit burning.”

“Aye,” Simon nodded, giving his damp hair one last ruffle to dry it before hanging it up on the drying rack on the porch and turning around the corner to go to the woodshed at the back. 

Gaz decided it was his turn to take a shower and left the tent with Johnny and the ladies. Johnny, feeling a little cheeky, told ____, “Why don’ ye help Simon out with the wood? Lindsey and I can pitch the tent by ourselves.”

She immediately picked up the hint. “Alright, then,” she said with a half-smile, leaving the two by themselves.

As soon as she was gone, Johnny asked, smirking as he pretended to adjust the tent cloth on the rods, “What’s the craic, hen?”

“Nothing much,” she answered, shrugging.

“I’m offended ye didn’t like ma catch,” he said playfully, enjoying her reactions to him just existing. 

“I don’t even like fesh!” she exclaimed, her own Scottish accent unexpectedly slipping in between her normally spoken RP accent.

Johnny was pleasantly surprised by the slip. “Yer Sco’ish?” he asked, sounding amused.

Her fair face flushed red with embarrassment, which confused Johnny somewhat. “Yeah, what’s it to you?” she asked, glaring at him. 

“Nothin’,” he answered, unable to suppress a curious smirk at her reaction, “Ye hid it well. Pretendin’ tae be Sassenach, are ye?”

“No, I was raised in England.”

“An’ ye dinnae have no Sco’ish accent at all? From your parents?” 

“I got rid of it.”

His patriotic self raised a brow at this. “How so?” He asked, “Are ye embarrassed of it?” 

She sighed heavily, crossing her arms. “Yes.” He begged her to tell him why this was so and she answered with, “I got made fun of very early on,” she absentmindedly twirled a lock of her wavy hair around her finger, “and so I shed it and spoke in RP.”

“Who made fun of ye?” Johnny demanded with a raised brow, sounding offended for her.

“Oh, just some lads back in school.” She shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. 

Johnny growled under his breath, annoyed. “They’re aff their heid!” he exclaimed, “Fuckin’ eejits dinnae ken how bonny our accent is.”

Lindsey had to admit that she felt a little warmed by how offended he was on her behalf. 

“Many of them played with my feelings too, especially if they noticed I had a crush on one of them. They made fun of my red hair and me being Scottish, and mimicked my accent. I have no idea why they didn't like any of it,” she added, suddenly feeling the odd, tingly feeling of anxiety a closed-off person gets when they open up unexpectedly. 

Johnny was positively furious. “Tha’ so?” he said, crossing his arms, “Then ye don’ need tae be runnin’ after those bloody twats, ye ken? Whit ye need is a real Sco’ish man. He wouldnae take the mick outta ye.”

Lindsey blinked in surprise at this speech, feeling another bout of warmth in her chest. She chuckled and asked, crossing her arms, “And where am I to find a man like this?” 

A smirk tugged the corner of Johnny’s lip. “Right in front of ye, pet,” he said, putting a hand on his puffed chest, “I’m yer man and I ken how tae love ye.”

“Bold words,” answered Lindsey, impressed by his confidence.

He shook his head. “If only a Sco'ish man can appreciate a bonny Sco'ish lass like ye,” he flirted, sizing her up and down to bask in her beauty, “then he sure as hell can love her.” 

The lady couldn't help but blush and smile at this. She had to admit that he was winning her, but not quite yet. 

“I'm not convinced yet. How will I know for sure you'll treat me right and keep it that way?” she challenged, smiling playfully. 

“I’ve been askin’ ye tae go oan a date with me, but ye just want tae talk, talk, talk first.” He sarcastically rolled his eyes and flapped his joined fingers to mimic yapping. “I think it’s enough talkin’, yeah? Time to go oan a date an’ see me in action. Whit ye say, pet?”

“Alright, fine,” she relented, “But I have high expectations, so don’t disappoint me.” The smile lingered as she crossed her arms.

He returned her smile, happy to be challenged. “Yer wish is my command.”

To keep his wet hair from troubling him, Simon pulled out a black bandana from his pocket, folded it up oblong and tied it around his forehead. Just as he was about to enter the woodshed, he heard ___ call as she emerged from behind the wall.

“Simon, do you need-” Her words stopped in their tracks when she saw him sporting the bandana, clearly a new look she hadn't seen on him before. 

“Need what?” he asked, turning to face her.

She gulped harshly and then croaked out, “...Help?” 

“I don’t, but do you want to help?” He turned back to the woodshed and pulled out a log of wood and a splitting axe. 

“Yeah,” she answered, watching him place the log of wood on a tree stump that functioned as a chopping block.

He turned back to the woodshed and brought out a small wooden stool, which he handed to her. He then pointed slightly afar off, smiling. “You can sit still over there and look pretty for me.” 

She chuckled, “So far away?”

“I’ll be swinging an axe, darling. It’s not gonna be safe for anyone to stay nearby. If you want to watch, it’s best if you stay far away.” He rested the axe head down on the grass, allowing the long handle to lean against his leg while he rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt above his elbows, revealing his sturdy forearms. 

She took his advice and the stool, and sat across from him, far away for her safety but near enough to talk to him. She watched as he adjusted his sleeves, spread his legs apart slightly, and wiped his hands on his jeans before taking hold of the axe. Placing one hand below the axe head and the other at the butt end, he raised it over his head, twisting his torso slightly and brought it down with all his strength, splitting the wood in half with a satisfying thwack.

She watched him both carefully and dreamily, observing his motions and form as he split the wood; it would be useful information. A sigh escaped her lips, marvelling at his range of vocations; he was a car mechanic, a gardener, and now a lumberjack, and who knew what else was in his repertoire of practical talents. A plumber? An electrician? Her attraction towards him was increasing at an alarming rate, and even Simon could see it in the way she stared at him. 

He exhaled, feeling another flutter in his stomach. Every single instance of her interest in him convinced him further and deeper that she preferred him over anyone else, all of it now piling up into a heap in his mind. 

The silence was thick, and her staring relentless, and he felt suffocated (in a good way). He wanted to start a conversation but felt his throat go dry. What would he even talk about? He began to sift through the recesses of his mind for a conversation starter. 

“Your skelly plush,” he finally began, his voice a little too unstable for his liking, “You seem to like it a lot. I always see it on your Instagram stories.”

“Yeah, I do, it’s cute,” she admitted. 

As he split the loose piece of wood with his hand and tossed aside the smaller piece, he couldn’t help but smile at this indirect compliment she was unknowingly paying him. 

“He’s your emotional support plushie then?” Simon asked teasingly as he adjusted the larger piece of the split wood on the stump to split it down again. 

“He is,” she answered, gazing again as he swung down the axe. “He motivates me to write.”

“Does that mean I motivate you to write?” he wondered as he threw aside the split wood and placed the next log on the chopping block. 

“Speaking of writing,” he began, swinging the axe down, “How’s the novel coming along? You said that there were problems with the male lead.”

“Yeah, there was…” she answered, but her voice trailed off when she watched as he yanked out the axe head lodged in the tight crack of the log, dug his fingers in the said crack, and with a grunt, split the wood with his bare hands, letting out a heavy sigh at the end of it. 

A delightful tingle coursed through her lower regions, making her press her thighs together and her cheeks flush. Did she just ovulate? If societal norms didn't exist, she'd already be asking him to split her legs apart. Maybe she was in the ovulation part of her cycle. 

“This is juicy,” she thought, covering her mouth slightly to hide the embarrassed smile creeping on her face. Frederick was going to be one hell of a man. 

Simon in the meantime, not looking at her, turned the split log of wood around to land another blow on it, all the while thinking, “Did she see it?” But when he stole a glance, she was looking elsewhere. He sighed, raising the axe one last time to split the last log of wood they needed. 

“What were you saying, love?” He remembered that she stopped mid-sentence. 

“Oh,” she blinked, now gulping harshly to keep her sudden spurt of lust at bay, “Yeah, the male lead. I've thankfully gotten a nice fitting model for him to base his character off of, and so far, it's coming along great.” 

“Who's the model, then?” he asked, now gathering the pieces of wood and keeping them aside. 

She struggled, looking this way and that as she tried to think of someone’s name to say. “Uh, Alejandro,” she spat out. “Fuck, why did I say that?!” 

Simon froze for a split second. “Oh, I see,” he said through his teeth, feeling the full force of disappointment and jealousy hit him like a train. Even the delightful little pile of evidence of her interest in him felt like they were given a harsh, vigorous shake as if to say in warning, “Don't get your hopes up.”

He was glad that his back was turned to her because he felt a painful twinge in his chest strong enough to make his eyes narrow and his lips to frown. “Why'd I even bother?” 

Swallowing down all his ill feelings, he collected his composure and the wood in his hands and tucked some under his arm. “We're done here. Let's go,” he said, his voice a hint icy and sharp, though he tried to sound casual and normal. 

He did a good job at hiding it, because she didn't notice the subtle shift in his tone. 

“Let me carry some,” she offered, now standing and walking up to him. 

“No, you might get a splinter,” he reasoned. 

She frowned. “Come on, please? Let me help,” she begged. 

Simon usually could refuse anyone’s help point-blank, and he could be petty and refuse her rudely, but at the sight of her pleading eyes staring at him, he nearly melted. Though he felt bitter, his tender regard for her didn't falter in the slightest. He still didn't want her delicate hands to get hurt, so he turned back to the woodshed again and brought out a pair of gloves. “Wear these first,” he instructed. 

Her face beamed as she took the gloves and put them on. Only when she did did he give her a lighter load of the split wood to carry. 

He was silent as they carried the wood to the fire pit, but only one thought filled his mind, “Why am I jealous? She's the author. She can choose whoever she wants as a model for her characters. Maybe the male lead is like Alejandro.” And yet, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed and embarrassed by the fact that he thought himself highly enough to be a model for any character in her work. After all, “she went to Alejandro first to discuss the male lead. It’s not any wonder she would choose someone like him.”

By the time they had dropped the wood into the fire pit, they found nobody outside. After starting a fire, the two entered the cabin and found Lindsey and Gaz in the kitchen, prepping the ingredients for lunch while Johnny's bathroom concert made nice background music. 

They joined in and Johnny joined soon after. Johnny was in such high spirits that he couldn't stop singing, either under his breath or out loud. He very openly flirted with Lindsey, who was both flattered and offended by it, since she would've preferred him to be more discreet. Gaz and ____ egged Johnny on simply because they wanted to be entertained, but Simon was by himself, silent, sullen, and annoyed by all the noise. 

When ____ had her fill of fun, she leaned over to Simon who was busy dicing up some tomatoes. “Simon,” she called. 

“Hm?” He responded, his eyes fixated on the tomatoes, not willing to meet her eye. 

“You told me that Johnny was a bit of a womaniser,” she said, her voice quiet and a hint worried as she took a bottle of dried peppercorns and tried to open it. 

“Yeah, I did.” he answered, watching her trying to pry the tight lid open. 

“I'm a bit worried about Lindsey. I hope Johnny won't raise her hopes up too high and break her heart. She seems to really like him.” She grunted, shaking her aching, red hand, still unsuccessful. 

His jaw clenched slightly. “You're worried about her and yet you openly support them,” he quipped, taking the bottle from her and twisting the tight lid open easily. He handed the bottle back. 

She smiled gratefully at him as she took the bottle and poured out a couple of peppercorns into a small mortar. “Yeah, I kinda do support them, and I think they look great together, but I'm still worried about how Johnny will treat Lindsey long term.” 

Simon was silent for a moment, now staring back at the tomatoes that he mindlessly turned into a mush from dicing too much. “What do you want me to do, darling?” he asked. 

“I want you to find out if he genuinely likes her,” she said, now in a whisper, now crushing the pepper into a coarse powder with the pestle, “Lindsey… she's more delicate than most people even if she doesn't show it, and she's easily swayed by her emotions too. I would not tolerate it if he broke her heart just for shits and giggles.”

Simon could hear the bitterness in her voice, and from the look on her face, he could tell that she was reliving some experiences. He was tempted to be petty again, but decided against it. He bumped her shoulder gently with his arm in an attempt to reassure her. 

“Don't worry, darling. I’ll find out.”

End of Part 9.

Part 10

This chapter was so hard yet so fun to write. I hope you enjoyed it! As always, leave a comment if you want to be added to my taglist. Thank youu xoxo

Also, you can follow this fic on the tag (#Simon series), which you can find below!

[b0n3s-is-gay]

Can I come inside?

A Very Merry Outsiders Masterlist -> here

Synopsis: After walking up to your doorstep during a winter storm, Johnny asks for a bit of shelter.

Tags: Fluff, implied Soc reader, I hate Johnny's bio family

(Credit for divider: @/tsunami-of-tears)

A soft rasping sound came from your door. It wasn't unusual to get visitors during the holiday season, but it was unusual to get these visits in the middle of a snow storm at 7:30 p.m. You walked to the door and looked through the peep hole only to see your boyfriend, Johnny Cade, holding his jean jacket close in an attempt to keep warm.

Nearly ripping the door off the hinges, you opened the door and looked at Johnny with a worried expression. "Johnny, what on earth are you doing out here in a snow storm?!" You gasped as you looked at him. He looked away and softly frowned before you ushered him inside, bringing him into the warmth of your house.

"I- ... I don't wanna talk about it... if that's alright with you..." Johnny shivered as you closed the door behind him and brought him into the kitchen to get him some dinner that you just put away.

"That's alright Johnny..." You whispered as you put some mashed potatos and meatloaf on a plate and popped it in the microwave. "We don't have to talk about it..."

Johnny nodded softly as he was handed the food. He looked up at you asking if it was alright for him to eat. When he got confirmation, he picked up the fork and ate as you got him some tea to drink. A warm meal, a night in with his loving girl friend, and a chance to be out of the snow after his mom kicked him out? Things couldn't be better.

Tag lists! @witchyleehibernates

[alwaysshallow]

can you please write a little blurb about soap comforting reader after a tough day?? (work’s been kicking my butt lately and i constantly think about johnny comforting me to feel better)

You are quiet as possible, when you're searching for any candies in your kitchen counters, trying with all your power to not break apart. It's been a rough couple of days, and what's more to it, you're just tired with life; if you wouldn't be needed anywhere, you'd honestly wrap yourself around a blanket to protect yourself from world.

But you can't do that, and it makes you even more mad, it makes you feel like you burned out in absolutely everything. What's even worse? You, trying to act like everything's okay right in front of your boyfriend for a couple of days.

Either he believes you, or he just decides that you're gonna tell him in the right time, but you're thankful for that anyway; you feel like he has more important things to do than worrying about you having a mental crisis and being exhausted. He's military after all, he probably would think it's a first world problem and—

"You're tensed up." Soap's voice snaps you back to reality, when he hugs you from behind, his face hidden in your neck.

You fake a chuckle, as you shake your head dissmisively. "I'm alright, it's just—"

"—quit it." he murmurs, kissing your skin which tickles under his lips. "Yer like this for a while. What's wrong, lassie?"

And here it goes.

It's like a breaking point, when he finally asks; one sob does it all for him to turn you around, and hug you tightly, as your head is against his broad chest, when you just tell him what is wrong. How everything overwhelms you, how you don't have time for anything you like, how people makes you want to crawl in your bed and never leave.

Comes on him like a tsunami wave, and you suddenly feel bad for making him worry about you. He seems to see right through you, when he pats your back a few times to get your attention.

"What are ya thinkin' bout?"

"How I'm overwhelming you. You have bigger problems, and I—"

"—None of that overthinkin' shite, aye? Look at me." he whispers, his forehead against yours. "You don't overwhelm me, at all. Yer just tellin' me what's been a bother, and that's good. That's why I'm here, yeah? No matter how dumb it sounds to you, I want to know."

"You want to know?"

"Everythin'. Includin' that Cassidy bitch."

He says it with such seriousness that it makes you laugh, and he laughs too, automatically.

"Ain't that hard, eh? And now, we're gonna go to bed, watch some movies, and cuddle."

And it is this way. You pick your favorite romcom, and his arm is around you; it feels like a shield from anything bad that happened to you recently.

His mouth doesn't stop commenting, but you think it's just an excuse, so you could shut up him with a kiss once in a while.

When you do? When you do, he laughs into your lips, and brings you even closer, nuzzling into you like into his favorite blanket.

And, somehow, he makes everything alright.

A/N: i hope everything's gonna be alright, baby!!