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halfmoth-halfman · 2 years

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the little things

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Medic!Reader Synopsis: Five times Soap questions the relationship between Ghost and the 141's Medic, and the one time he gets an answer. Word Count: 2.9k Warnings: mentions of blood, mild swearing Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters.

part two. part three. part four.

The first time is purely by accident.

It’s not like he’s trying to eavesdrop; it isn’t his fault the infirmary doors were left wide open, and it doesn’t seem like you and Ghost are trying to be quiet. Price called everyone for a meeting in twenty and, since the infirmary’s on the way, Soap figures he’d swing by and grab you. He’s walking towards the doors, paying attention to nothing in particular, when your unmistakable laugh echoes into the hallway. Soap stumbles slightly, caught off guard by the sudden noise.

Someone’s enjoying themselves, he thinks. He’s almost six steps from the door when you laugh again, this time followed by the deep timbre of a familiar voice that makes Soap stop in his tracks.

Price was the one who had brought you onto the team, but it was supposedly Ghost who had recommended you. “Only medic I ever met who actually knew what they were doing,” he had said. Apparently the two of you had previously worked on multiple missions together, and that was made obvious by the way you two worked flawlessly around each other with an efficiency that could only have been cultivated through a deep trust and years of teamwork.

Soap slowly approaches, all his stealth training coming to the forefront as he leans next to the door and focuses in on what you’re saying.

“It’ll only take a day, two tops. I promise.” Soap can hear the smile in your voice. Glancing at the glass panes of the doors, he can just make out your reflection. You’re standing beside an empty bed, behind an overbed table that’s covered in papers, leaning on your elbows to smile widely up at Ghost as he stands against the wall on the opposite side of the bed looking wholly unimpressed.

“You want me to spend an entire day sitting in the corner and watching you give everyone on base flu shots?”

“No, I’m asking if you’ll sit in the corner and look intimidating while I give everyone on base flu shots. The “look intimidating” part’s important,” you speak matter-of-factly.

“I’ve seen you amputate a man’s leg at the knee mid-combat. You’re telling me you can’t handle a few shots by yourself?”

Soap makes a note to ask about that story later.

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you. It’s everyone else that’s the problem here.” Ghost blinks at you, seemingly not believing you. “I get it, you’re all big, tough guys who face death every day-” Soap sinks his teeth into his cheek to fight back a laugh as you try to lower your voice in a very poor imitation of Ghost, “-but the way some of these guys act, you’d think I was coming at them with some kind of medieval torture device. I just think-” “That’d be a first.”

“-If I had someone that everyone respects, and is a little bit afraid of, sitting nearby then they’d stop with the whining and I can get my job done faster.”

There’s a long pause as you and Ghost stand locked into a staring contest. Soap swears that, for a moment, something like amusement crosses Ghost’s eyes.

“You think people are only a little afraid of me?” Ghost asks, tilting his head ever-so-slightly. You let out a loud, exaggerated scoff, throwing your hands up.

“Fine! Go lurk in a dark corner and scare children, or whatever it is you do, instead of helping me. Just don’t be surprised if I’m suddenly out of painkillers the next time you get shot.” You’re facing away from him, pouting like a child with your arms crossed over your chest. Both Soap and Ghost know you don’t mean it, your flawless reputation is too important to you, but Ghost sighs and nods anyways.

“Just tell me what days-” Ghost is barely done talking when you’re spinning around, nearly knocking the table over.

“Really?”

“Whatever will get you to stop being a brat.” Like water off a duck’s back, the insult runs right off of you as you clap your hands together. “Now, come on. Don’t want to be late to Price’s meeting.” Ghost pushes himself off the wall as you shuffle your scattered papers into organized piles to look through later. Soap leans back, taking a few quiet steps back from the door as you and Ghost start to leave the infirmary.

“Hold on, one sec.” Soap pauses as he hears your hurried footsteps, looking back to your reflection in the glass. Eyes widening, his jaw drops as he watches Ghost let you grab his arm and push yourself up onto your toes to place a quick kiss to the cheekbone of the larger man’s plated skull mask. “Thank you,” you speak softly, taking a couple small steps back.

Soap doesn’t have time to process as you and Ghost step out of the infirmary, immediately spotting him as he stands dumbly in the hallway.

“Hey Soap! You heading to Price’s office, too?” Soap blinks, shaking off the shock and giving you a quick nod.

“Yeah, I was just about to come get the two of you.”

“Let’s go, then,” Ghost says, turning and walking away without waiting for you or Soap. You fall in step behind him almost instantly, waving Soap over. Soap glances between the two of you as he follows. He knew the two of you weren’t strangers. He’d even speculated you might’ve been friends, but he’d never imagined you might’ve been something more. He wants to know more, but also gets the sneaking suspicion that this isn’t something he should be prying into. Ghost has always been a private man.

Either way, he has no time to think on it further as the three of you enter Price’s office.

The second time, he’s in far too much pain and far too tired to really remember if it actually happened.

Despite everything, the mission had been a success, though the cost had almost been too much. Your team of seven has two unconscious, three severely injured, and the rest sporting a variety of bullet grazes and knife wounds. None dead, thanks to your quick thinking and efficient work. It’s late and the team’s holed up in an old safehouse overnight waiting for evac. Soap is sat up against the far wall, watching you with drooping eyes as you flit around the safehouse, tending to everyone’s wounds. He had been fortunate enough to only have a few minor wounds, but the adrenaline of the fight is fading fast and the comedown is hitting hard.

Ghost is on watch and is the last person you check on, at his own insistence and much to your annoyance. He bats you away from any of the minor cuts and bruises, so you pull up a chair next to his and focus on the deep gash running across his right forearm. Through his sleep-hazed gaze, Soap watches you expertly stitch Ghost’s arm. He can hear the two of you mumbling to each other, but doesn’t have the energy to try and decipher your words. Once you’ve finished wrapping Ghost’s arm, you glance around at the others.

You must assume everyone is asleep by the way you deflate, running a tired hand down your face and stretching your neck with a grimace. You scoot your chair closer to Ghost’s, shutting your eyes and letting your head fall against his armored shoulder. To Soap’s surprise and not to yours, Ghost makes no move to push you away, instead shifting so your head’s not at such an awkward angle and settling into his own chair. Soap can feel his curiosity creeping up, but sleep wins out in the end and he passes out not long after.

When he wakes, Ghost is in the same spot, but you’re curled up in a beaten up arm chair across the room still asleep.

When evac finally arrives, everyone is awake, and you and Ghost hardly acknowledge each other as he briefs Price over comms and you help load wounded into the helicopter.

The third time, he’s sneaking through the rain and blood-soaked streets of Las Almas, Ghost guiding him through his ear as he makes his way to the church.

He knows he should’ve seen it coming, but Graves’s betrayal stings nonetheless. Soap pushes the anger down, instead focusing on reaching the rendezvous point so they can escape and rescue Alejandro. The banter helps, but there’s an edge to Ghost’s voice that Soap understands as worry.

They haven’t heard from you since you all were separated.

They both know you can handle yourself, and worrying about it won’t help, so they talk and sort through their situation: what supplies Soap can pick up, how bad tequila tastes, the tactical uses for dog piss. Everything is as fine as it can be while on the run from deadly mercenaries. Until-

“The mask. Take it off.”

“Show my face?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Negative.”

“Are you ugly?”

“Quite the opposite.”

“Can confirm.” Soap nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden sound of your voice.

“Holy hell, where have you been?”

“Aw, you worried about me, Soap?” The teasing tells him you’re not in too much danger, or are at least somewhere you feel safe, but something in your voice feels…off.

“What’s your status?” Ghost cuts in.

“Managed to get out of the village,” you groan through a deep exhale, and give a haggard laugh, “can’t say the same for the Shadows.”

Ghost gives a quiet hum of praise, but all Soap can hear is the strain in your winded voice. “You alright, Doc? You sound-”

“Dings and scrapes, Soap. I’ll be fine. Meet up with you later.”

“Wh-”

“Don’t worry about it, Johnny,” Ghost sighs, “just focus on getting to the church.”

“Right,” Soap mutters. He returns his focus back to the mission at hand, rummaging through the drawers in front of him for rope he can wrap around his extra fan blade.

It hits him just as he spots the reflective shine of a shard of glass on the floor. Can confirm, is what you’d said. Did that mean-

“The Doc’s seen you without the mask.” It comes out as more of a statement than a question.

“Let’s worry about you, Sergeant.”

The fourth time, he lands hard on his feet in the pitch black of Alejandro’s safehouse. Soap has his back turned as Ghost climbs in the window behind him. Luckily for him, as Ghost sees the laser sight aiming right for Soap’s back.

“Don’t move!” Ghost calls out, before launching a knife into the support beam across the room. Soap whirls around to shine his light at the beam just as someone calls out from behind it.

“¿Quién está ahí?”

Before either he or Ghost can answer, someone else stands and walks around to the front, “About time you two showed up!” Your voice is an instant relief as they both relax while you turn back to let Rodolfo know it’s safe to come out.

“Either of you injured?” you ask, eyes scanning over Soap as Ghost hops down from the open window and Rudy returns his knife.

“Nothing major,” Soap assures you, though your eyes linger on the bullet hole in his arm.

“Found this one trying to climb in through the same window,” Rudy explains, nodding towards you.

“I almost had it,” you laugh, leaning to the side to put your weight on the beam. They don’t miss the way you wince, and it doesn’t take long to notice your right leg is a deep red from the knee up.

“Your leg-”

“Looks worse than it is.”

Soap doesn’t believe you, but the subject changes to Graves and he lets it go. The four of you settle around the table as the guys formulate their plan for Alejandro’s prison break. You set your palms atop the table, leaning forward to take as much weight off of your leg as you can so you can focus on the conversation. It doesn’t help much, but it helps enough and soon the plan is concrete enough to take action. While Rudy leads Soap to the weapons locker, you take a seat on a nearby box to check the haphazard bandages you’ve wrapped around your thigh.

“You’re staying here.” Soap glances over as Ghost speaks. You laugh quietly, leaning back on your hands to stare up at the man towering over you.

“Leaving me all by my lonesome?” You sound like you’re complaining, but even from a distance Soap can see the relief in your face. Your teasing does little to soothe the stress radiating from Ghost.

“Just-” Ghost lets out a long sigh before dropping his voice so low, Soap can barely hear his words. “Be careful. Please.” You sit up straight, face suddenly serious as you set a gentle hand on Ghost’s wrist.

“For you? Always.”

“Soap, can you grab the rest of the guns?” Soap snaps back to attention, nodding at Rudy and collecting what guns he can. It takes all of two minutes, and when he turns back, Ghost is sorting through papers and you’ve set to properly bandaging your leg.

By the fifth time something happens, Soap is absolutely sure there’s something between you and the Lieutenant. He notices it everytime the two of you are together: the quiet banter, the dark jokes only the two of you enjoy, the way Ghost always seems to hover near where you’re standing. It isn’t until the 141’s every-so-often night out that his suspicions are confirmed. Gaz and Price stepped away for a round of darts ten minutes ago, and now Soap finds himself sitting alone watching you and Ghost talk at the opposite end of the bar.

“You keep staring like that, and they’re going to notice.” Soap chokes on his drink as Price takes a seat next to him, Gaz snickering as he flops down on Soap’s other side and claps him on the back.

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Soap coughs out, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but the other end of the bar. Price sees straight through his lie, of course.

“Gaz, why don’t you see if the Doc wants to try a hand at darts?”

“Sure thing, boss.” Another clap on the back and Gaz is making his way over to you and Ghost. Soap startles as Price leans close and nudges him in the side with his elbow.

“Keep your eyes on him,” Price whispers, and leans away to sip at his own glass. Soap takes another drink, sneakily glancing up just as Gaz reaches you and Ghost. You smile widely at him, nodding when he gestures towards the darts board. You turn and say something to Ghost before standing from the bar and following after Gaz to the other side of the room. Ghost’s eyes follow you the entire way, never once leaving your form.

“Watches like a hawk, that one,” Price hums, “and I thought he’d be better at subtlety.” Soap turns to his Captain, brows furrowed in confusion.

“You-” Price shushes him, and nods back towards Ghost. Soap looks back, and they watch as Ghost sets down his empty glass, stands, then makes his way over to you and Gaz. He posts up, leaning against the wall closest to you where you can easily smile at him every time one of your throws lands.

“Like a lost puppy,” Price laughs.

“What’s the situation there?” Soap asks, glancing back at Price, but all Price can offer is a lazy shrug.

“Don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s been happening for a long time.”

“Alright, just got a couple papers for you to sign and you should be good to go,” you smile, gently turning Soap’s head to examine the area you’ve just pulled his stitches from.

“Thanks, Doc. ‘Preciate it.” You give a playfully dismissive wave, disappearing behind the dividing curtain.

“I’ll be right back!” you call and Soap nods, more to himself than you. He glances around at his sterile surroundings, eyes bouncing from the white walls to the white floor to the white bedsheets. The overbed table sits just next to him, though this time there’s no mess of papers scattered atop it. Instead, there sits a single file and after twenty seconds of solid boredom, Soap can’t help himself.

Lifting from the bottom corner of the file, Soap nearly drops it as he sees your picture clipped to a pile of papers. He looks behind him, pulling the curtain just enough to peer through. He spots you on the far side of the infirmary, waiting patiently at the printer. Letting the curtain fall, he quickly turns back to your file. He flips it open, picking up the paper with your photo attached. It’s an older picture, maybe from three or four years ago, but your smile is still as wide as ever.

Flipping the picture up reveals almost two entire pages of solid black lines. There’s more redacted information here than Soap has ever seen. Soap skims through what few sentences are available, every so often catching things like SIS and specialty interrogation tactics and a slew of words he never would’ve associated with your cheerful demeanor. He gets to the final page that appears to be a printed copy of the photo and his heart nearly stops as he reads the name written at the bottom and everything clicks together in his head.

Your last name is Riley.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #mw fics #moth writes #private

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wonijinjin · 5 months

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painfully in love

author’s note: very self-indulgent, and wrote it to give some comfort to my darlings who suffer every month. take care yall<3 (also just mentioning that i totally believe he would know what to do bc he has a sister and he is the cutest giant puppy)

synopsis: when your period cramps torture you mingyu is always there to help and give you some comfort.

word count: 0.9k | genre: fluff, comfort (mingyu is the best, such a sweetheart) | pairing: mingyu x f! reader | warnings: mentions of pills/medicine, mentions of throwing up, pain

when mingyu stepped into your apartment he knew where he would find you; in the bedroom, under a pile of blankets. you had texted him earlier in the day that you had crazy cramps and asked him to bring some medicine home since you ran out of painkillers. “pretty girl, i am home!” he said loudly to let you know his presence in the house. after taking his coat off he went straight to the kitchen to get you a glass of water and prepared it with the pills and some dark chocolate, since he knew it can help with cramping. he entered the room silently, suspecting that you were asleep by the lack of response to his arrival earlier. he was right; you laid in the middle of the bed, a big fluffy plushie in hand, cluthing onto it tightly, the covers up to your chin, hair messy and spread out on the soft pillow. his heart broke a little; he knew how much pain you were in, it had happened before, that you had very strong symptoms on your period. he decided on not waking you as he felt pity for you and was happy to see that you were getting some rest at last, after being kept up all night by the pain. he settled into the bed next to you cautiously and wrapped his hand around your middle, warming up and massaging your abdomen with his large hands. you felt his form next to you, but didn’t entirely wake up; you just shifted and hugged him unconsciously. “aww, you are so adorable, sweetheart.” he whispered while starting to stroke your hair, playing with the strands in the meantime.

“mingyu…” he heard your mumbles a bit later, not holding you anymore, him working on the computer at the desk in the room. “huh?” he stood up, checking up on your form only to see your eyes closed and brows furrowed, discomfort written all over your features. “you are okay sweetheart, you are okay.” he cooed at you while tucking you in further and kissing your forehead after he saw the creases on it starting to fade, guessing you weren’t in distress anymore.

when you woke up it was almost completely dark outside and the first thing your brain registered was mingyu’s chest. “are you awake, pretty?” he asked gently. “when did you get home? wait i need to get up-“ you tried peeling yourself off mingyu’s body but a sharp pain in your lower stomach made you still your movements. “you okay? are the cramps hitting again?” he looked at you with worried eyes. “yeah.” you pouted, tears threatening to spill from your orbs as the pain increased. “oh sweetheart.” he rubbed your back in calming motions. “i bought painkillers, and i have some water and chocolate to take it with, can you sit up for a moment?” you did as he told and took the medicine, but as expected it needed some time to kick in, and until then you could only wish for the stabbing pain to stop, burying your head in mingyu’s chest as you whimpered in agony. “i’m so nauseous ’gyu. i don’t want to throw up.” you cried while trying to stop your head from spinning; it really had been a long time since you felt this bad. “you won’t. i am so sorry you feel this miserable, pretty girl.” “i am sorry you have to deal with this mingyu. you know how i hate being queasy.” you whined. “even if you do throw up it is okay, you know how you can’t do anything about it baby. tell me if you feel like you are gonna be sick, we will deal with it, alright?” he reassured you and cradled you in his arms, putting you on his chest properly so you could be comfortable. “i hate seeing you in so much pain. i want my happy baby back.” he pouted. “not your fault.” you murmured into his shirt. “thanks for being here.” he kissed your forehead and chuckled lowly. “of course sweetheart, i just wish i could do more.” he smiled sadly. “can i do anything to distract you from the cramps until the medicine works?” he quizzed with a warm expression, his eyes searching your face constantly for any sign of discomfort, ready to adjust to your preferences. “wanna go back to sleep. gotta make up for last night or i will be miserable tomorrow too.” he giggled at your reply, loving how you were so unfiltered on your period, being so real about not wanting to do anything other than sleeping, and not pulling any act about how you are fine and happy. “alright, pretty. then we will do just that. want me to rub your back or turn on a show for some background noise?” you looked up at him, pecking his lips for a quick and lazy kiss as you had absolutely no energy for anything more. “just hold me, please? you are so warm, making me feel sleepy and less achy.” you muttered, already exhausted from fighting your body’s stubborn muscles. “sure. sleep well then.” he whispered. “love you, mingyu.” you said back. “love you too, more than anything. tomorrow will be a greater day. get better soon.”

#wonijinjin #caratsland #seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen fluff #fluff #svt mingyu #mingyu x reader #seventeen mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu #mingyu x you #mingyu x y/n #svt kim mingyu #seventeen kim mingyu

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luveline · 3 months

Note

what abouttttt

zombie!steve and reader (at any point tho i feel like this would make sense after the college got attacked) are like scavenging in a pharmacy and steve wanting to make his girl laugh puts on the stupidest prescription glasses that he found near the front desk but then? reader comes over and hes like have you always had that mole? and he refuses to take them off even tho theyre far sighted which makes the trek back to camp slightly unsafe but he cant stop staring at readers face because hes never seen it so clear

thank you for your request<3

“I really need some chocolate,” you lament, pulling at his hand as you drift together down the aisle toward the snack section. “If they don’t have any, I’m going to kill myself.”

“You better kill me first.” Steve pulls you back. “Seriously. Have the decency.”

“Find me some candy and I won’t have to.”

“Find yourself some candy, loser. I need some painkillers. I’m sick of dealing with you.”

You push at his arm. He resists the urge to yank you in for a kiss, letting your hand drop to part ways at the top of the aisle. He makes for the back of the store where the in-store pharmacy signs hangs half off of the wall, green glass shattered like coarse sugar grains underfoot. Steve cringes, clearing a path to the desk with the side of his shoe.

“You okay?” you call from a few feet away, unseen but close enough to be heard clearly.

“Fine! Signs of candy?”

“No,” you say dejectedly. He nearly misses it.

Steve’ll find you some chocolate if it’s the last thing he does, but first, he needs painkillers. His knee aches like he’s been beaten, a funny burning string of pain lining the underside of his leg every other step. Ideally he’d like some codeine, but more realistically he wants advil. He doesn’t know where to start, never does, but if you come over he’ll pretend he understands what things go where.

He’s lucky. He bends down and finds a bottle of motrin on the floor, looking up to find a shelf teeming with it. “Yes,” he says, ecstatic. Things rarely ever go so obviously his way. “Fucking yes.”

He shoves as many bottles of tylenol in his various pockets as he can. Then he looks around for anything interesting. He’s sure there’s a ton of things you could benefit from. He’s been wondering about epi-pens and emergency precautions, because god forbid something happen to you he couldn’t correct. Love makes him worry. You’re worrisome, you’re so sad lately, he knows you’re a few days from another burnout. He can’t handle it —he’ll take care of you, but seeing you down for the count hurts every single time.

He leans heavily on the counter and lets himself think. Absent-minded, he reaches out to spin the intact rungs of a glasses stand, prescription lenses shining against the glare of the sun seeping in from the store’s caved metal roof. “Plus two,” he says to himself, “plus three, what?” He grabs an obscene pair and shoves it up his nose, blinking in surprise at the way his vision blurs.

He turns the display to the mirrored back and grins.

“Hey, loser? You okay?” he calls.

You don’t answer.

“Babe?” he says sharply.

“Oh, you’re talking to me?”

“That’s not funny.”

You appear at the end of the aisle with an arm full of chips, less blurry the closer you get. “Sorry. Don’t call me loser then. Oh, gosh, what are you wearing?”

“Gosh,” he mimics with a laugh. “I’ve no idea.”

His poor attempt at a southern accent makes you laugh too. “Nice glasses, Harrington. I didn’t know you needed them.” Steve crossed his arms in front of him. You drop the chips beside his sleeve and station yourself as he had, a mirror, your smile charmed as you push the glasses up his nose. “You look ridiculous. Here,” —you take a nicer pair from the rack and open the legs— “swap them.”

He would, but he’s looking at you, and he’s thinking, What?

You move your head away from him instinctively, but ultimately let him hold your face, his thumb on the hill of your chin, fingers curled over your cheek. He can see the little silver scars of a cruel hand around your mouth, and the cut on your cheek from a surprising wooden beam, but what he’s never noticed is the pigmentation under your mouth. The little wrinkles by your eyes. Hell, he’s never realised your eyelashes looked quite like that until now.

“Hey–” he starts, though you’re already ducking your chin. “Wait–”

“Stop, you’re staring.”

“Yeah, I’m staring. You always had that freckle?”

“Long as I can remember.”

“Wait,” he pleads, trying to grab your chin as you step away.

“I need chocolate, Steve, I’m not kidding. You can do whatever you want to me if you help me find some.”

“You will come to love that decision very soon.”

You giggle like crazy. Steve swaps the less attractive glasses for the ones you’ve recommended and follows you down the aisle to help you look for your sugar fix. He nearly trips over a split can of condensed milk, and you might act like you don’t like him, but you catch him by the arm and allow him to hold on.

He isn’t great at helping you look, but he finds a couple of bars of cooking chocolate in the baking essentials aisle and decides it’s good enough to head home with. You eat lines of it as you walk, your fingers pressed between Steve’s, a little dab of chocolate he wouldn’t have noticed otherwise in the corner of your lips.

“You sure you don’t want some?” you ask between bites.

He’s gonna watch you eat the whole thing. “No thanks. I’m saving room for Robin’s artichoke heart and refried bean combo.”

“Would you take those off?” Your cheek twitches as you smile. Your eyes glow with affection. “You can barely walk.”

“You don’t like them?”

“They really, really suit you, actually. I love them,” you say, to his secret delight.

“So what’s the problem?”

He trips over his own feet and has to grab your arm to stop from falling. “That’s the problem,” you say, in love enough to smile even when the world has gone to shit for you a thousand times. Your eyes follow down his nose to his lips.

Steve grins and ducks forward for a kiss. “Oh, sorry,” he says when the glasses bump your nose.

You laugh and touch under his chin to help him out. You taste like chocolate still as he kisses against the seam of your lips, a quick but blissfully deep kiss, a handful of seconds where Steve feels like you’re one in the same before he pulls away, just enough to see both of your eyes.

“What’re you looking at?” you ask.

“You have chocolate on your nose,” he lies. “Want me to get it?”

“Yes,” you say bashfully.

He kisses the tip of your nose, then the corner of your lip.

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

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weird-is-life · 4 months

Text

Please be careful

Pairing: Hockey!James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: James gets injured during one of his hockey games and he's desperate to see you

Warnings: angsty, fluff, use of pet names, use of y/n, mentions of concussion, hospitals...

Words: 0.9k

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

It was supposed to be a normal, regular hockey game with James as the captain for the game. And you, unfortunately, couldn't attend it, so you were hoping for a happy phone call from James.

Instead, you get a phone call from Remus and you instantly know, that something is wrong.

But you don't expect it to be that bad. Apparently, James got slammed into the boards by another player. Though, that's not unusual for hockey games, you've seen James get boarded plenty of times.

But James's helmet was not tightened properly and as he got pushed into the boards, it slipped off of his head, meaning James bumped his head hard.

James is stable, he has a pretty bad concussion and keeps loosing his consciousness, but he is stable.

You try not to panic, as you listen to Remus explain. But it's hard not to. You don't know, what you'd do If something happened to him.

You will those scary, irrational thoughts away and rush to the hospital. When you get there, Remus is waiting for you outside.

You immediately go give him a tight hug.

"How's he?" you ask with a worry, while you quickly follow him towards James's door.

"He's okay, still disoriented. But okay, he's got some painkillers for the headache, so keeps falling asleep," Remus reassures you, he would feel the same panic, you feel right now, if it wasn't for Sirius being by his side the whole time.

"He's been constantly asking for you, you know," Remus adds with a smile, "like every single time he wakes up, it's your name he says first."

"Really?" you smile at him back, it lifts your mood up a little, hearing that James's been asking for you.

"Yeah, really. Now c'mon, let's go inside. I know, there's at least one person in there that can't wait to see you," Remus means James, but also Sirius.

Sirius may seem like he's a really tough guy, when in fact he is actually the biggest softie. He instantly goes to hug you, too.

Another fact about Sirius is that, he gives bone-crushing hugs, that leave you almost aching. You can't say you hate them, they are comforting. So his tight hug is exactly, what you need, to calm your racing heart completely.

When you pull away, your gaze lands on James's lying figure. He looks almost the same as he usually does sleeping, except for the quite big gash over his forehead.

You go sit in the chair next to his bed. "Hi, Jamie," you whisper, as you take his hand into both of yours," you scared the shit out of me."

You chuckle quietly and wipe away, the one tear that escapes from your eye. You lift James hand up to your lips and kiss the back of it, letting out a huge sigh of relief.

The guys leave you alone with James to go get something to eat, which you are thankful for. Because you can finally get a minute only just for yourself to breath it all through.

With your eyes closed as you take one big breath in after another, you don't notice James's eyelids opening.

That cheeky bastard, stays quiet for a few minutes, just looking at you and smiling happily to himself. He's over the moon, that you are finally there.

"H-hi, my love," he croaks out with a groggy voice from the sleep.

Your eyes shoot open, widening when you see him smiling at you," James!"

"You're awake...How are you feeling? Does it hurt? Is your head spinning?Do you need some more painkiller...-?" you stress, but James interrupts you.

"Lovely....-" he starts, but you ignore it.

"Or-or should I go get some nurse?" you ask him nervously, already getting up to leave.

"Y/N," he says your name to finally get your attention.

"Yeah, Jamie?"

"Just breath, yeah?" he squeezes your hand, " I'm perfectly okay, now that you're hear." He knows, he must have scared you pretty badly. I mean, he was a bit scared himself to be honest.

You do as he tells you and make your worrying stop," a-are you sure, you don't need anything?"

"Actually, there's one thing," he says, cheeky smile already painting his bruised handsome face.

"Anything...."

"I could really, really use a hug from my best girl, right now," you hesitate for a second, not wanting to hurt him any more, then he already is.

But James has none of it, he pulls you by your hands towards him, basically pulling you into his lap.

"James!" you giggle at his action, but finally close to him, you give in. You tightly embrace him, hiding your face into his chest.

"I thought, we'd agreed, that no injuries for you," you mumble into his chest. Your heart still goes fast from the worry and you're pretty sure that James knows, because his hold on you tightens a bit.

"I know, I'm sorry pretty. I'm so sorry, I scared you," James mumbles back and kisses you on the top of your head. He shouldn't have done that, because his head starts to spin from bending down to kiss you. He doesn't tell you that, though.

"It's okay, I know it wasn't your fault. But please be more careful next time?" you ask innocently, rubbing your hand up and down his back.

"I'll try," James promises.

"Good."

"Good." You stay quiet for a longer moment, just processing that James's really okay. Even if he's a bit bruised.

"I love you, you know that?" James whispers lovingly.

"Of course, I know. I love you, too."

You stay cuddled up on James's bed, until the nurse comes and looks at you two very sternly, which has you climbing off of him and the bed in a matter of seconds.

#james potter imagine #james potter x reader #james potter fanfiction #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter

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imliterallyellie · 4 months

Note

need fluffy hcs of ellie williams taking care of sick reader 😭

is this thing on? 🎤

ellie takes care of you when you're sick

a/n made this a drabble... sorry :) hope you liked this!

you were not the one to get sick, you rarely ever did. you had to deal with the occasional sneeze or cough when the cold, winter days in jackson got the better of you, but you'd never been sick. not like this.

ellie was tasked with morning patrol, which meant you were left to your own devices. you usually didn't mind it. you would take some time to do some household chores, something you never really got the chance to do whenever ellie was home. she always claimed you were 'too sexy' to be doing tasks around the house and came up with some dumb excuse that would get you underneath her rather sooner than later.

but now, you couldn't think of anything worse than getting up from this bed. the room felt like it was spinning a million miles an hour and a piercing pain shot through your head whenever you opened your eyes to the light that was creeping through the blinds.

you thanked whatever lord was out there for the fact that you had a clear schedule today, and decided that it would be best to try and get some more sleep in, ellie wouldn't be home until lunch time at least.

when ellie opened the door to your shared home and wasn't greeted with a clingy girlfriend right away, she knew something wasn't right. you never liked it when she was sent on patrol in the morning, claiming that it was 'homophobic' that she couldn't get her fair share of morning cuddles before getting up for the day.

so usually, upon entering your place she didn't even have the chance to take off her boots or hang her coat on the rack, before you were all over her jumping in her arms and pressing kisses all over her face, trying to make up for lost time.

she quickly changed into something more comfortable before setting out to look for you, soon realizing that you hadn't left your bedroom yet. a quick glance at the clock in the living room told her that it was past lunch-time, and you would never miss the chance to cook for her on days like these.

ellie hissed when the bedroom door creaked loudly upon opening it, but her eyes immediately softened seeing the state you were in. you were curled up in a ball under the sheets, fisting one of her sweatshirts that you must've grabbed when she had left for the woods this morning. your face was scrunched up, clearly in distress, even when you were asleep.

your girlfriend quickly made her way over to you, crouching down so she was level with your face. she noticed the damp sheets covering your body, indicating that you had been sweating. a quick feel of your forehead with the back of her hand told her that you had a fever and were burning up.

before waking you she ventured into your bathroom, grabbing any supplies that you could ask her for upon waking you up. a wet cloth, some painkillers, a glass of water and a bin, just in case.

she got on her knees next to you before softly cupping your cheek, whispering sweet nothings until your eyes eventually fluttered open. a small smile curled her lips while caressing your cheek. "y'okay baby?"

the sound of her soft, caring voice was enough to crack your non-existent facade, and before you know it a single, warm tear rolled down your cheek. you shook your head. "dunno what it is, woke up like this."

ellie shifted quickly without answering, walking over to her side of the bed before settling against the headboard. "c'mere love, come get comfy." you shuffled over without hesitance, laying between your girlfriend's soft thighs, that were still slightly cold on the touch from the early morning out on the trails. you laid your head down on her stomach, sighing deeply.

"got you a painkiller love, d'ya wanna be good f'me and take it?" you nodded softly, feeling ellie's body shifting underneath you when she reached over to the bedside table where she had put the glass of water and painkiller before waking you up. when you settled back down on her stomach after having taken the medicine, she draped the cold, wet cloth over your forehead to try and give you some relief.

she knew she had succeeded when she felt you unclenching your shoulders and sighing. "tell me if you're gonna be sick angel. get some more rest, i'll be here and we can try and eat something small tonight, how's that sound?"

you could only nod, already feeling yourself fall back into a slightly more peaceful slumber in the comfort of ellie's arms. the feeling of her nails scratching your scalp and her lips pressing soft, lingering kisses on your head sent you back to sleep within a couple moments.

there was a voice in the back of your head telling you that the roles would be reversed next week, but you couldn't care enough to pay any mind to it. still, who really minds taking care of their sick girlfriend?

#not proofread as usual #is this thing on?#torlex speaking 🌿#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut

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konigsblog · 5 months

Text

simon riley with a f!reader who has endometriosis

cw: fluff/comfort, mentions of endometriosis symptoms, female anatomy

simon riley hates seeing you in pain. he hates seeing you sobbing in your pajamas, unable to move from the aching sensation in your stomach. that tight and cramping feeling all over your abdomen, leaving your sides sore and your body weakened. your pillow becomes wet with your tears, your eyes raw and your cheeks tearstained and sensitive to the touch.

a tear rolls down your cheek. the half drank cup of tea on your bedside going cold, and your head spinning and throbbing. you close your eyes, everything just feels too bright — and your head is spinning at the slight sunlight peeking through the curtains.

simon, despite being fully asleep for the first time in a while, woke up. he knew you were in pain, subconsciously and through sleep. he stirred awake, concern and worry plastered on his face. he cooed at you, holding you down against the mattress, his hands wandering to your sides to soothe the ache. simon always knew how to fix you, to mend you back together, even on your rough, harsh periods. his thumb wiped a tear from your eye, his other hand kneading the flesh on your stomach, rolling his fingers in circles. he massaged on your lower back and sides, kissing your cheek and burying your face in his neck. “’s alright, dove. ‘m here’.”

he pressed his forehead against yours, covering and enveloping you in a warm cuddle. he ran his fingers down your stomach, kneading your fat and muscle between his fingers, pressing kisses on your forehead. your head was spinning and all you could do was allow him to massage your pains away, and kiss you better.

he rolled you onto your side, deciding that he'd get up to go get some pain killers for your aches. with a cold glass of water in your hand, washing down the painkillers, the only thing on your mind to do left was pass out and fall asleep for hours. you thanked simon for being patient and tender with you on your worse days, for taking care of you even when you cried at him because you wanted nothing more than to be alone. and despite your wails, he always stayed. because he knew no matter how much you told him that you didn't want his help, deep down and truthfully, you did — needed it. knowing that simon would risk getting screamed at just to make sure his love was alright, if there was anything else he could do to make you feel any better, knowing that your periods were especially horrible and cruel to you.

you felt the mattress dip and you let out a relieved sigh, knowing simon would be here during your nap, to care for you. his body pressed from firmly against yours, hands warming your stomach.

you felt yourself doze off, eyes shut and your breathing steady. the pain in your stomach soothed for a few hours, until you woke up, with simon sat up and watching something on his phone. he held you, warming you up with his body, his heartbeat against your back.

simon riley would most definitely pour you a warm beverage and run you a bath, watching by your side with water in hand, telling you dumb jokes that make you giggle quietly, eyes half open.

and he'd make sure it was candle lit — not too bright, but not too dark either. the warm, foamy, bubbly water warming you, knowing that simon would make sure you felt comfortable, that he was going to attempt to hopefully soothe whatever problem you had. 🎀

#orla speaks #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 ghost #cod ghost #ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader

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castiwls · 3 months

Note

Love your account!! Think you might be able to do something with Dean Winchester about him or the reader getting drunk and ends up admitting things that they wouldn’t have otherwise? A little random but if you’re up to it I would appreciate it!! <3

drunken confessions - d.w

Paring; Dean x gn!reader

Synopsis; Drunk words are sober thoughts

Warnings; none

Notes; tysm thats so kind🥹. I wrote this instead of doing my coursework lmao (requests open!)

Masterlist

You frowned looking up from the research you had been slowly working your way through as the sound of a loud crash rang through the halls of the bunker. Deciding you should probably go investigate you got up from your bed and began to walk to where the sound came from.

As you walked through the halls you mulled over the possible causes. The bunker was old and things seemed to fall off the walls at least once a week. As you reached the entrance to the map room you stopped in your tracks. Sitting at the bottom of the stairs looking confused and a bit pissed was the last person you expected. “Dean?” You had to choke back a laugh as he looked over to you.

“Did…did you fall down the stairs?” You stepped closer pressing a hand over your mouth to cover your smile as he looked up at you. He sent you a glare, which wasn’t as intimidating as he obviously meant it to be in his drunken state and slowly stumbled to his feet. “Shut up.” He grumbled swaying slightly in his spot. He let out a huff before leaning on the wall.

You took a deep breath and managed to wipe the smile off your face. “Are you ok?” you asked after a moment. You quickly looked him over noting his swaying and flushed cheeks. “Are you drunk?” You tilted your head frowning slightly. “Dean you said you were going for supplies.”

He shook his head waving a hand in your direction. “Store was closed…but the bar down the street was not.” He grinned seemingly proud of himself. You sighed crossing your arms over your chest. He’d promised you he would stop doing this.

“Come on.” You gestured for him to follow you. “You need water and then you're going to bed.” You made a mental note to check the cabinits for some painkillers knowing the headache he was going to have in the morning was not going to be nice. You began walking out of the room when suddenly you were pulled back into something hard.

You felt his arms wrap around your waist and you felt a slight heat rise to your cheeks. You hadn’t been this close to the oldest Winchester in a while. “Can you keep a secret?” He said quietly leaning down slightly to be closer to your ear. “Yeah?” you nodded slightly confused as to where this was going.

“I am madly in love with you. But psshh.”

You stiffened in his hold slightly. “What?” you spluttered out in shock. Dean let go of you and you quickly turned to face him. He grinned at you before pressing a finger to his lips.

Did he really mean that or was it just the drink talking? There was no doubt that you had harboured feelings for him since the day you had met the brothers but you never thought he felt the same. “Dean, you don't mean that. You're drunk.” You shook your head trying to brush him off gently.

This was not a conversation to be having right now.

“No. I mean it. Don’t tell my sober me that I told you that though. It was a secret.” You nodded still slightly shocked by his confession. “I won't. promise”

He grinned before leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. The gesture left your stomach swarming with butterflies as you stood there dumbfounded.

He slowly swayed as he looked around the room. He brought a hand to his head rubbing it slightly with a frown before looking back to you. “I can’t wait for the room to stop spinning, so I can focus on your face again.”

You shook your head before grabbing his hand and pulling him to the kitchen.

You were going to need to have a very long conversation tomorrow.

#supernatural #dean winchester #jensen ackles #spn #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #spn imagine #spn fanfic #.mine #.dean winchester #.spn #.req

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jordancallowayswife · 9 months

Text

Mafia Love🖤( Painkiller x Y/n)

Requested: ❌

Characters: painkiller, y/n, odell, khalil

Triggers: gun usage, mentions kidnapping, killing, cuss words, violence( if any of you are uncomfortable reading parts like that I'll put a ⚠️symbol ahead and another one at the ending)

Backstory: for those who may not know who painkiller is, he's a alter ego version of khalil. He was made by the ASA in the show black lightning. He can switch between himself and khalil. It'll make more sense as the story goes on.(this is based off of the black lightning series but I don't own any of the characters except y/n)

*represents khalil talking to painkiller

Excuse any mistakes and enjoy the story!

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫≪•◦ ❈ ≪•

Painkiller's Pov:

I was currently sparring with one of my partners when agent odell came over to me. "Painkiller a word with you please" he said. I hit my partner with one of my poisoned darts and walked to odell. "What seems to be the problem?" I asked. "Well for one you keep killing every sparring partner you get. You keep this up and I'll have no choice but to-" I cut him off. "To what Odell? Me and you both know you won't fire me. I'm too valuable to you so face it. You need me." I said silencing him. "My apologies, you are needed for a mission. Go to the museum tonight at 8:00 and take the diamonds. Eliminate any witnesses." Odell says sighing. I drove to my house in my black car. I know you're probably wondering why I'm so mean to odell but trust me I have a very good reason. A few years ago I was a normal person. I ran track, had good grades,and didn't have any kids. I did everything I was supposed to do until I died. I had been shot and paralyzed and Tobias stepped in like a wolf in sheep's clothing. I was killed by Tobias. He used me and then threw me away like I was nothing. I had my spine ripped out when I decided to stop working for him and I bled out. That's when odell came in. He used higher technology and things that I didn't even know existed to bring me back and weaponize me. (basically painkiller was khalil before odell made him into a human weapon and khalil is kind of trapped inside of him). I finally made it home and decided to rest for a little.

*timeskip*

The time was now 7:30 and I was getting ready and suddenly I heard khalil speak to me.

*you know you don't have to do this*

"What other choice do I have?"

He was silent. "Exactly, I don't have a choice" I said calmly

I left out the door and prepared to carry out the mission.

Y/n pov:

It was 7:30 and I was getting ready to go watch an art show at the museum. I put on a white crop top, baggy cargo pants, and some sneakers and left out the door. I drove to the art show and I got out to go see. I looked at the door and some man in a black suit walked in. "He must be here for the show too" I thought. After about 5 minutes I heard some gunshots go off and people screaming and I broke down crying.

Painkiller pov:

I looked at y/n as she stood in the corner horrified.

*spare her, you can see she's confused and doesn't know what's going on pk* khalil said.

I thought about it and decided to spare her. "Come with me, I can't explain everything now but we have to go now" she got up and ran to the car with me. "So you wanna tell me what that was back there? Who even are you?" Y/n asked sniffling. I pulled over and wiped her tears as I explained everything to her from me being turned into a weapon, why I was at the museum, etc. She didn't seem like a threat to me. I felt calm for the first time just by being around her. I took a liking to y/n but i knew it was way too soon to ask her anything about us being in a relationship. I pulled up to Odell's headquarters to give him the diamonds. "I got your diamonds now where's my cut?" I asked him. "Here" he said as he handed me 100k in a duffel bag. I grew enraged because he didn't give me what he promised me. "Wait a minute you promised 150k. Where's the rest?" I asked him looking around. "You're not getting the rest. You've been rude to me you don't deserve it. I brought you back to life and this is how you repay me. I was doing you a favor." Odell said. "Oh save that shit! You didn't do me a favor you have been torturing me every since I came back." I yelled. ⚠️(violence+ triggers ahead proceed with caution) "you put a chip in my brain to control me and make me into a weapon. YOU MADE ME KILL MY MOTHER!" I said angrily. I pulled my gun out on him. "Forget the money. give me what I need to get this chip out of my brain." I said sternly.

Y/n pov:

(Plot twist up ahead 😌)

You're probably wondering why I'm so calm and not freaking out right now. I'm an highly skilled assassin and I know exactly who painkiller is and why he's the way he is. I was sent here to kill agent odell. He's done enough to painkiller nobody deserves to go through that and yet, he's made painkiller's life into a living hell. All I had to do was get one foot in the door by making painkiller bring me here with him. Odell owes me money and since he can not pay it, he will pay for it with his life. I was sitting in the car waiting when I heard yelling coming from the tall building. *that sounds like painkiller* I thought. I got out and went to the top floor only to see painkiller and Odell fighting. The two rose to their feet pulling a gun on each other. I pulled my gun out as well ready to take action.

Painkiller's pov:

Me and Odell were fighting when we soon broke away and rose to our feet. Suddenly I heard a gun click behind me. Y/n had pulled out a gun aiming it at Odell. "Yo y/n you're an assassin?" I asked shocked at her actions. "Yeah I'll explain everything later. As for you Odell, I think you need to hand over the stuff to get the chip out of his brain." Y/n said sternly. "NEVER" Odell said as he tried to run off. I shot him in his left shoulder. "The next one's going through your forehead" I said smirking. "Alright alright! It's in the suitcase please let me live." Odell pleaded. Me and y/n looked at eachother and nodded. We both shot odell and made sure he was dead and got everything we needed from him. I heard cops in the distance coming to us. "Should we get out of here princess?" I asked. "Yeah we should." Y/n said smiling.

I drove off taking us somewhere safe away from freeland.

#michael b jordan #shuri black panther #kai cenat #ice spice #ishowspeed #painkiller black lightning #painkiller spin off #they cloned tyrone #khalil payne #vin diesel #vincent sinclair #back to school #curly hair #anime and manga #k drama

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actuallybarb · 27 days

Text

here with me

pairing: male x gn!reader (i tagged with a lot of different male characters i find comforting, but there’s no names used so you can imagine anyone you so please)

word count: 0.6k

warnings: reader is in pain (nothing descriptive), he comforts. just fluff

a/n: i wrote this as a result of my own migraines, but i kept all the symptoms vague because any chronic pain is a bitch, and you deserve to be treated softly by the person of your choice

The apartment usually wasn’t this quiet when he got home.

Or this dark.

He set his keys on the counter and left his boots by the door, then carefully stepped through the apartment. The kitchen and living room were both empty, and the office looked like it hadn’t been touched all day.

There was no light under the bedroom door. He set a cautious hand on the doorknob, but a quiet whimper had him opening the door without question.

You were laid out on the bed, on top of the covers, with an arm draped over your eyes. The ceiling fan and rotary fan on the ground were both spinning at top speed, and he could just see a dark bag poking out under your neck.

He quietly closed the door and returned to the kitchen, now a man on a mission. He grabbed a straw and a water bottle from the fridge, then took an ice pack from the freezer and wrapped it with a dish towel. He took the last item, a bottle of painkillers, from the cabinet and silently returned to the bedroom, the only sound of his presence being the faint click as the door closed one more time.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

You let out another small whimper.

“How bad is it?”

“9.5.”

Unbearable, then, if you were using an actual pain scale.

He set his items on the nightstand and took a seat beside you on the bed.

“Meds?”

“At 3.”

Only a couple hours ago, too soon to take more. He put those beside the lamp.

He uncapped the water bottle and put the straw in, then he gently tucked a hand behind your head and lifted. “Drink.”

Your lips wrapped around the straw, and he didn’t pull the bottle away until you’d swallowed at least four times. But before you could lay back down, he replaced your old ice pack with a new one. You shivered a little, but the cold was a welcome reprieve.

“Stay or go?”

You could’ve cried. He’d stuck with you through this so many times he knew your comforts by heart. He read your moods instantly, and most of the time didn’t need promptings, but he always took the time to ask when it got bad like this. And he never shamed you for only being able to say a few words at a time.

“Stay.”

It nearly came out as a sob.

He shed his jacket and started unbuttoning his jeans. “Shirt or no shirt?”

“Soft.”

He took off his current shirt and replaced it with his sleep one, nothing decorating the black fabric, just ultra-soft cotton.

“Where do you want me?”

It differed every time. Sometimes you didn’t want him at all, the thought of another person with you sending jolts of pain through your body. Other times you wanted him to stay, but on the other side of the bed. Or you wanted him close, but barely touching.

“Top.”

Or sometimes you needed him to put all of his body weight on top of you like a human weighted blanket.

“Covers?”

“No.”

He positioned himself, knees on either sides of your thighs, then he slowly lowered himself until his hands on either side of your face were the only thing keeping him up.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

He finished lowering himself and settled his full weight against you.

You sighed in relief.

“Better?”

You nodded and tucked yourself into the crook of his neck. “Better.”

“Three taps if I’m suffocating you.”

For the first time that day, you took a deep breath and relaxed.

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poquiii · 1 year

Text

König x reader / Ghost x reader Headcanons

Their Drunk Persona

Ghost

●He doesn't like to drink.

●Sometimes he doesn't mind having a beer with the other soldiers or with you if you ask, but not much at all. It's enough to feel just a slight haze of calm over alcohol, but no more than that.

●He likes being sober. And he doesn't like to lose control of himself. On rare occasions he gets drunk.

●And oh, he'd better not.

●A drunken Phantom is an uncontrollable Phantom.

●He is used to always controlling his face and keeping his emotions under control. But when drunk, but alcohol acts as a huge tank that breaks down all his emotional walls, tearing them to shreds and leaving dusty ruins, on top of which Ghost becomes wild.

●His tongue is unleashed and his whole sarcastic nature bursts out.

●He continues to speak and act with his inherently unfriendly nature, but now he has absolutely no control over it.

●Sometimes, if his rivals are drunk enough to lose their sense of fear, fights ensue.

●Of course, he wins, even when everything swims in front of his eyes.

●He suddenly becomes jealous.

●If you are drinking with him among other people, he will start behaving possessively: he will put his arm around your shoulders, put his arm around your waist, or (if he is totally drunk) he will put you on his lap.

●Just so everyone knows who you belong to. Because all of a sudden it's starting to make him feel like there are too many people around you who look at you the wrong way.

●He'll have a headache in the morning and won't take painkillers from your hands on principle, because you can't hide your smirk when you remember how he called his co-workers names last night.

König

● He doesn't drink too often.

● He doesn't like the taste of alcohol. He prefers strong tea or soda.

● However, if he does get drunk, he suddenly becomes bolder.

● His laughter becomes louder and his movements loosen up.

● His shoulders straighten and he gets even bigger than usual without trying to hide it. And finally it doesn't bother him.

● He starts smiling stupidly, but nobody sees it but you. Because he only takes off his hood when he's around you. If he's only a little drunk, he just gets incredibly chatty. Often he doesn't even realize that he's switched from English to German.

● He's not at all shy about touching you, although usually in public he tries to behave discreetly, for fear of attracting attention.

● But now his anxiety is drowned in alcohol, and he's happy to hug you in the middle of a conversation or take you in his arms for a spin.

● But this energy doesn't last long at all, then König becomes abruptly sleepy.

● He becomes lethargic and prefers to find a comfortable corner where he can snooze. Preferably, you should be next to him so he can cuddle with you, basking in the warmth of your body.

● The next morning he will vomit so badly that for the next couple of days he will constantly tell you that he will never drink again.

My Oa3 If you're interested -

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ceruleanchillin · 4 months

Text

141 x Reader: Biker!AU

Note(s) -

1.) Nobody asked for this, but here I am combining two obsessions. Congrats, you’re a biker’s old lady now 🎉.

Any media with hot guys in a group should have outlaw MC AUs

2.) I love roughneck Simon. Please give me more of him. I wanna talk about the guys in this AU so badly, don’t (DO) feed my inbox. BlueCollar!Simon, Mafia!Simon, Mechanic!Simon, Idc I love it all.

3.) If you saw this before, no you didn’t (plus I added more to it). I decided to keep them all together, and it’ll just be long as hell. A long fic stored under a cut never hurt nobody.🤷🏾‍♀️

Simon

Nobody can get him as soft as you. There’s a 3-ringed barrier around his heart. Outsiders < The Club < You.

He loves doing mundane things with you, the kind of things he never saw for himself when he swore to stay single in this life. Like, after a good run fattens his wallet, letting you run wild in the shops.

“C’mon on then lovie, give us a spin.”

You squealed, spinning so the soft fabric fanned around your upper thighs. “I love it! But Si, it’s too much.”

“You let me worry about that sweetheart. Just let me see how it looks comin’ offa ya.” He gripped the very thighs you teased him with, eager for his favorite part besides your smile.

He’d pick up as many extra runs as it took to keep you in small luxuries, as long as he was the one that got to keep that look on your face.

They all have tattoos, but Simon is the king. His body art is top notch, because he’s very discerning with his artists. He’s had the best from Europe to the States. Now, he only trusts Price’s old lady, Johnny, and you.

In fact, that’s how you met. You started your apprenticeship under an asshole who bailed before it was over, and took a chance on the dangerous shop everyone warned you away from. Mrs. Price was everything you were afraid of AT FIRST. You later understood it was because the shop is 141 affiliated, and she had to be harshly discerning to protect herself and her family.

Once you got over that phase, she was unendingly sweet, and dedicated to helping you hone your craft.

Simon saw you when he came to fix the sink in the shop’s little kitchen. You were the only one there, intensely focused on a practice skin arm.

You were beautiful, hair wild from you tugging at in concentration, and your tongue poking out slightly. How long had you been working here?

“I knew you needed a hand around here, but that’s a bit far isn’t it?”

You jumped, startled out of your practice, the buzz of the tattoo gun stopping. “Oh my god! I don’t know what scared me more, you, or that joke.”

The two of you kept each other company in your respective tasks, until he was done. In admitting you were aching to do a real tattoo again, he found himself volunteering on instinct.

At first you resisted, worried about the ethics in your mentor’s shop, and he came up with the genius idea of going back to your place. Smooth Simon.

By the end of the night he was sure he’d never need another artist again.

He’s often as busy as Price, sometimes more so. It takes a lot to run a charter as is, but to establish a table so far from home calls on him more than any other era in his time with the club. On top of that, he often pulls double duty, acting as an enforcer with Konig.

That’s where he really appreciates you understanding, and accepting, his lifestyle. You’ve made a home for him, and he only hopes he conveys how much he appreciates that.

—

He comes home with a headache taking up residence in every corner of his head more and more these days. It was all he could do to kick his boots off, and not collapse on the nearest thing that could hold his weight. His room felt miles away. Downside of living in the dorms.

He drug himself to the clubhouse kitchen, prepared to dig around for some painkillers, when he saw a post-it note on the island next to a napkin with two pills.

Ignore if not Si!

Dinner in the fridge + cake in the dish on the counter. Eat and get your ass in bed with me.

He chuckled, headache long forgotten when he realized you were in his bed. However, his heart and stomach wouldn’t let him ignore the home cooked meal in the fridge, and once he’d savored every bite, he was a blur on his way to his room.

You were curled up in one of his shirts, sleeping soundly on the side of the bed he favored. He stripped, leaving his clothes on the floor, only stopping to deposit his kutte on the dresser, before scooping you into his arms.

“Si..” you murmured sleepily, burying your face in his chest, seeking something to lay on after being picked up.

“‘s alright sweet pea.”

“Glad you’re home, don’t let go.” You were slightly more awake now, but not by much.

“Was never an option.” He got into bed, relaxing in the warm spot you left behind, and situated you next to him in his arms.

Assuming big spoon position, his hands roamed your form, finding momentary purchase wherever they could. He felt a little guilty for further waking you up, but it occurred to him that you must have seen the day he’d had, and had taken the time to attempt to make it a little better. You could be home in your own bed, but you chose to be there for him. He was starving for you.

His lips created the same desperate patterns across your cheek and neck that his hands created on your body. He gripped your thigh, giving the plush skin a squeeze, before hooking your leg back over his.

There was a sharp inhale of air from you, and you pushed back against him, undoubtedly feeling him firming.

He laid his other arm under your head, letting you lay your cheek against his arm as he grasped your face. He tilted it up to grant more access to your skin for his lips.

“Taking care of me pretty bird?”

“It’s what you deserve, baby.” You slurred, squirming in sensory overload at all of his attention.

“Swear m’ going flat hunting tomorrow.” His fingers skimmed over your covered heat, grinning when your lower half bucked.

“‘s what you deserve sweetheart. Somewhere to put all your nesting to good use.”

You moaned rolling your hips back into your solid wall of a man. “Don’t tease me, I can’t help it.”

“Oh, m’not teasing pretty bird, m’ appreciating.”

He’s been called on to do many dark things for the club. Price doesn’t leave room at the table for anyone not to pull their weight, and he’s even tougher on his titled men. However, the darker jobs fall on Simon more often than anyone else, because he’s thorough, and can put the deed away somewhere, somehow, every time.

When he pulls on his mask, and just surrenders to being no one but Ghost, he’s ready to work. He never cared what anyone thought about his actions, he never had to, until you.

You’d been around rough crowds in your lifetime, but Simon was a career criminal, and so was his found family. He was sure some recollection of his deeds would reach you, and that’d be your line. In fact, he was waiting on it.

He was shocked, truly floored, to find that wasn’t what triggered you. It was how you felt he was being utilized. You didn’t like, what you felt, was the unequal distribution of the extreme jobs, and you told him as much.

When he got over his shock, his reaction was fiercely defensive of the club. It was your turn for shock, but he couldn’t help it. He felt judged about the family that owned his loyalty, by the woman that owned his heart.

You were taken aback by his ferocity, but it didn’t change your view. It created a hotbed of tension that threatened what the two of you had built, until he understood why you felt so strongly. Simon was the one taken aback when he realized your intensity came from your love for him, not a judgement of the 141. He still couldn’t wrap his head around someone loving him to that degree. In his heart of hearts, he didn’t think he was worthy of that. That’s how he was supposed to, and did, love you.

He admitted as much when the tired topic reached a fever pitch.

Simon’s close cropped blonde hair was riddled with evidence he’d been running long, frustrated fingers through it. Those same fingers pulled a cigarette from his pack,, and lit it with a calmness that didn’t reflect the current mood.

“So now you tell me what I can and can’t do? That it then?”

You snapped at the accusation, breaking the promise you’d made to yourself not to raise your voice. “I’m not telling you what you can and can’t do, stop reframing what I fucking say!”

“Grow the fuck up, you’re not a bloody baby. You knew what I did when we got together. I protect the group, I’m meant to be the first line of defense. I pull my weight, my life be damned!”

Your eyes widened in shock at the underlying implication of his words. His own expression wasn’t familiar enough to you for you to place.

“The table doesn’t make me do the ugly bits, most times I volunteer.” He flicked ash onto the pavement, his finger tapping with more force than necessary. “Whether I die, or get pinched, I can be replaced. ‘s my job to stand in front of the ones that can’t.”

His chest heaved with trapped frustration, voice guttural, raw with emotion. “That’s my use.”

You couldn’t place a time where your heart had ever hurt for anyone the way it hurt for him in that moment. It was a physical pain, pin pricking across your chest in a wave, and momentarily halting your ability to speak. You loved this man, fuck the moon, he hung galaxies in your eyes, and that’s what he thought of himself?

Simon, studying your expression and not liking the shame it made him feel, turned away. He didn’t know what to do with shame, especially in front of you. He’d said too much, and his mind was racing to find a way to undo it. Stiffening at the feeling of your arms barely meeting around his large form, he fought the urge to pull away.

Your voice was shaky, laden with the tears you didn’t bother fighting the fruitless fight to stop. “I wish I could get you to understand how untrue that is. I wish I knew where to start.”

He turned back around, but refused to meet your eyes. That startled you. Simon had never been afraid to lock eyes with you. He backed down from no one.

“Wasn’t an answer you liked then lovie? Sorry to disappoint.” He said quietly, taking a last drag before he ended the cigarette under his boot, and walked off back towards the clubhouse.

Tears streamed down your face at a faster rate now, and you tried in vain to swipe them away quickly. You weren’t sure what to say. Not then, too much was in the air as it was, and things needed to cool, but this clearly wasn’t settled

You only knew what you wanted to do. Hold him. Hold him until he saw how fucked his outlook was, and how much worth he really had.

Long out of town rides to create a bubble with just you and him. No specific destination, you just ride until you can both believe you’re the only two people you know.

He throws you a surprise party when you get certified as a tattoo artist, and Mrs. Price releases you from your apprenticeship to a chair of your own.

No one can believe Ghost is throwing someone any kind of party, but they don’t dare deny him as he enlists them in different tasks. He took the whole thing very seriously, and left no room for mistakes. No one, not even Soap, was careless enough to spoil the surprise. Simon wanted perfection.

It was obvious to anyone who watched his love struck gaze follow you when you were around, but if anyone doubted it before, they didn’t now. This man loves you.

Simon sometimes comes to you with a design he’s made for his next tattoo. It’s never elaborate, and it’s usually more utilitarian than aesthetic. He trusts you to make it pretty, he knows you will. He just wants to better convey his idea, or so you think.

In reality, he just likes when you praise him, and he can be part of your passion. He’s constantly amazed by your artistry, and humbled that you let him be a part of it. Essentially, you two collaborate on his tattoos in an undeniably intimate way.

He unceremoniously comes to you with a scrap of paper, something he’s sketched over the past few days.

“Somethin’ f’ya to look over when you get the chance.” He mutters before giving you a long kiss and leaving the shop.

You study the lines, shaky but serviceable, and the design clear. Your mind immediately began to think of ways to tie it into his existing tattoo’s style and his tastes. All the while, you kicked your feet, ecstatic that once again, the most complex person you knew was trusting you with this responsibility.

Si had some serious, high quality pieces on his body, and he thought enough of your hand to add to that.

Simon is usually more affectionate when you’re alone. In public, it’s mostly gliding fingers across your back, or a quick brush of his lips across your forehead. BUT, sometimes his intrusive thoughts win, and he has to slap your ass. This can happen anywhere, anytime.

You’re bent over the tattoo chair, disinfecting and scrubbing, and you swear you hear his hand cutting through air before you feel the smack.

“Si!”

“You put it there sweetheart.”

Shooting range dates. You’ve been judged by some of your more…conventional friends, but you’re a gun girlie (which turns Simon on like nothing he’s ever experienced), and you don’t care. They tried to make you feel like he was being inconsiderate taking you there. Meanwhile, it was damn near your demand.

Simon loves having friendly competitions, random kisses, and exchanging shitty jokes. Seeing you get excited, and engaging in a little tech/spec talk about a gun you love, gets Simon bricked up in 10 seconds flat.

You truly believe he’s taken you in hidden parts of the range more than either of your beds at this point.

Makes you keep track of football season when he’s away. Almost put you in a box and mailed you far away from him when you assumed he meant American football season.

“Don’t ever hurt me like that again lovie, I won’t be held responsible.”

Punishes you with edging and cockwarming if you miss any important details. It’s especially excruciating when he’s just returned, and all you want is him to stretch you out. Simon is a mean dom, and he won’t be moved by sympathy.

“Please Si, I only missed one game.” you whined, trying to get him to come back to where he’d just spent time building you up to fall on his tongue, only to pull away at the last second.

He smirked, rising to his feet which clued you into the fact that he really wasn’t going to finish you off then. “That’s a bad girl. Have the missing orgasm to match.”

——-

Gaz:

Lives for where you live. Your little house is his home away from home. Sometimes the gang can be on business that keeps them on the road for weeks, and the last thing he wants when he comes back, is to continue to be locked in close quarters with other guys.

That’s when you know he’s skipping clubhouse life to crash with you for a while. You love it as much as him.

Scented candles and incense, sweet laundry detergent, soft materials, home cooked meals. It’s such a soft juxtaposition to his previous journey.

Your hands are all over him, soothing bruises and kissing him over in mapped out patterns only known to you.

Kyle may not know the difference between a single thing on your beauty table, or much about the things in your bathroom cabinets, but he knows he loves how it all smells/looks on you when he’s running his nose across your skin.

“Baby, I gotta get ready for work.”

Kyle hummed in acknowledgement, but kept you pinned to the overstuffed couch, kissing your thighs in his own personal ritual. The two of you had been sequestered away for two days since he’d been back, but he still couldn’t get enough of you.

“Be good for me love, I won’t make you late.”

“Liar.” You giggled when he pinched you in retaliation. “If you do what it feels like you’re about to do, I won’t make it to the shop until noon.”

“Not a liar babe, you know that better than anyone else.” He pushed your knees up until they pressed against your chest. “I promise, you’ll be the first one there. Can’t say in what state though.”

Being the club secretary, it may seem like Kyle has the plushier job at the table. Wrong. He sees as much action as the other guys, and he likes to stay in shape. That’s fine by you, because you reap the benefits when you get to watch him working out at your place.

Kyle Garrick doing burpees and up-downs in your tiny backyard, clad in nothing but gray sweat shorts, and a thin gold chain against his chest, isn’t a sight that should be free. Yet, after Kyle has finished his mission of witnessing you walk funny at least once, it’s a sight you’re treated to when he sinks back into his home routine.

You somehow think you’re safe to creep-watch from the back doorway while you enjoy your green tea, even though Kyle catches you every time. He just always knew when your eyes were on him.

Without even turning to give you a look he called your name, laughing softly. “I should start charging admission.”

“I was thinking the same thing!” You stuck your tongue out at his back, slamming the door when he revealed he somehow saw that too.

Kyle comes to the salon and hangs with you between appointments. Sometimes he watches you work, and fake flirts with customers to get you more money. He’s great for business.

“Cost a little extra, yeah? But myself, I love a bird that sweats the details.” Kyle’s brown eyes and bright smile were a lethal combination against free will, you knew this for a fact.

The soccer mom in your chair ducks her head under his attention, cheeks filling in with red, as she tells you she changed her mind about the rhinestones.

You appreciate the efforts towards fattening your wallet, but sometimes he’s so effective, you get annoyed and drag him to the break room to remind him you own him.

When you ride with him, he loves looking down and seeing the pretty designs of your nails grasping his chest. Something about the contrast of hot pink, or pearlescent purple against the black leather of his kutte does it for him.

Kyle is definitely on the calmer side most times, especially for his lifestyle, but the fastest way to break that is someone meaning you harm.

You were out at a crowded club with the 141, their ladies, and some friends of the club. It was a celebration of good finances and a successful legal dodge.

The guys clung to a dark VIP section, there for the drinks and victory lap more than the dancing. On the other hand, you and the other girls were not there to sit idle.

After a tense few months, the cause of your respective relationship ups and downs with the guys, you guys deserved to cut loose. The table agreed, with your men shouting words of encouragement and flirtatious innuendo to hype you up.

The whole bar was enthralled by you and the other girl’s dancing, singing, and general untethered energy. It was contagious. You especially, you had a few drinks in you, and all that could currently keep your attention was the music.

There was, unfortunately, one outsider who got a little too enthralled with the performance.

When you peeled away from the group, following the uptempo rhythm, he thought that was his time to make his move.

You felt him press up against you while your eyes were closed, assuming it was Kyle, you almost ground back against him. Then you smelt the liquor. Kyle liked a drink like everyone else, and you’d even seen him drunk, but this was someone who’d been at it for a while. Disgustingly sour, too close, and ultimately not your man.

You sent a sharp hit back with your elbow, turning to confirm what you knew. It wasn’t Kyle. He grunted, but pushed forward again making you hold your hand up in a warning.

“I don’t think so.” you waved him off, laughing at the prospect of entertaining him.

Angered by your laughter, he got bolder, shouting to be heard. “Well I think so, but I’m real interested in knowing why you don’t.”

“Because I said what I said, and I have a man.” You were tipsy, but there was an underlying fire to your words lending them solidity. “Fuck off!”

He bristled at another dismissal. “Bitc-“

Kyle had appeared, most likely having started making his way to you once the man got too close, and clapped him on the shoulder. His expression said that he had heard at least some of what was said.

“Hi baby!” You shouted, a little loud even for the club, but that made it endearing. “That’s my man.” You told the asshole.

“Use your ears before I send you home carrying them.” He was gripping the man’s shoulder so tightly you should see the sharp knuckle bones flexing, his rings catching the light.

The man looked at the kutte, and the expression on Kyle’s face, and the exact moment he realized the man would act on the threat literally became apparent.

If that wasn’t enough, you had the ladies at your back, and the table alert and waiting for the call. It was over for the bastard before it even started.

He raised his hands and scurried into the crowd, aiming for the door.

“I love you baby.” You crooned, throwing your arms around him and covering his face with kisses.

He laughed. “I love you too, even when I know I’m going to be holding your pretty hair back all day.”

When the gang has to have a tense table vote in a briefing, their equivalent to some other mc’s “church”, you always wait for Kyle. As secretary, it’s his job to gather information on other gangs, as well as any important changes in the area, and his council is called on first.

You’re waiting for him right after, inviting him back to your house for the night, knowing he won’t want to stay in his dorm. He won’t show it then, but he’s disappointed, and when you get him home, you let him vent to his mind’s content.

All the while, you’re drawing him a bath, doing a light skin routine on his face, greasing his scalp, and curling up on the couch with his back against your chest.

You know his brothers have his best interest at heart, and respect his role in the club, but sometimes he can get in his head about it, and that’s when you step in.

——-

Soap:

Johnny kept his lifestyle a secret from you at first. You’d only been hooking up for a couple of weeks before you both confessed to wanting more.

The crew had mocked him relentlessly about his inability to keep a relationship casual.

“Give it up mate, you ain’t even foolin’ yourself!” Gaz had clapped him on the back, laughing right in his face. “You start up with a girl right, and it’s over. You’re looking for a house by sunup.”

“Och, piss off with ya! I can keep it casual!” Indignant, and maybe a little drunk, he elbowed the man on the other side of him. “Tell em’ Ghost.”

Simon glanced at him sideways, bourbon halfway to his lips, careful it didn’t spill due to the prodding. “Johnny, some pretty bird starts chirpin’ in your ear and it’s curtains. Now fuck off.”

He couldn’t believe his friends, no — brothers, had such little faith in him.

Cut to a few days later, with him balls deep in you, confessing he wanted more.

“I’ll be good to ya bon, I swear it. I’m all for ya, just be for me?”

The only thing that lessened the embarrassment of proving his friends right, was that you seemed relieved, and admitted it was what you wanted too.

He couldn’t help it. Ever since he’d been patched in, besides the camaraderie, he was enamored with the relationship between Price and his old lady. There were plenty of solid old lady/old man pairings around him, but something about the way the club queen cared for her man, kept the other girls in order, and still maintained a life for herself was astounding to watch.

He couldn’t help chasing that in every girl he’d gotten with since he’d joined up. So many girls wanted the mystique of a sexy biker, but that’s all he was for them. Either a living dildo, or an attraction they could make their friends jealous with. Things never got very far outside of the bedroom. Except once, but that didn’t go over so well in the end.

He wanted that ride or die bond so badly, he couldn’t wait to have the perfect old lady to wife up and fill a house with brats.

With you, he prayed he was it for you, because you had quickly become it for him.

You were a good girl. Specifically, his good girl now. He felt it was highly unlikely you would go for his lifestyle, and so he kept it under wraps at first. He knew he had to tell you at some point, but he wanted to soak up as much time as he could in case you checked out.

“Nah sweetheart, it’s nah like that. We get a little rough, but mainly, we just appreciate bikes.”

“Do ya think I have what it takes to be in a criminal organization? And with ya not knowin’ no less!?”

“Let’s talk about something else bon, did ya ken your thighs look cute warming my ears?”

Guilt eating through him like acid, especially when the club picks up on the fact that he hasn’t brought you around. Anytime Soap has a girl in his bed more than once, he’s parading around the club with her in no time. They know there’s something special about you, and that baffles them even more. Soap claims it’s because you live one town over, which you do, but Gaz calls him on his shit.

He’s hyper defensive, and fights until he’s blue in the face before he admits it’s true. He’s afraid you’ll turn out like the others, or reject him all together. He’s so far gone at this point, he’d rather you use him than leave him.

Price doesn’t like it, and councils him against lying to you any further for numerous reasons. Soap promises he’ll tell you soon, but he’s trying to convince himself as well as his president.

Eventually he couldn’t hide it anymore, but it wasn’t exactly his choice when the curtain got pulled back.

The two of you had been to a late movie, Johnny finally having had time to squeeze in a date with you after a series of back-to-back runs. You’d suggested coming to him for once to take the burden off. Before he could object, you’d admitted that you were already in town, and he’d rushed to meet you.

Though he was nervous about you hearing something, or seeing someone off-color that he knew, he couldn’t deny he loved the day he spent with you.

He never needed a reason to want to kiss you, but something about your soft smile under the parking lot lights compelled him right then. Maybe because your expression said just how content you were to be with him, and he buried that in his heart.

“Wait a minute.” He stopped you, lips on yours before you could ask why.

Parking lots didn’t exactly get safer as they got darker, and emptier, but he couldn’t stop once his lips touched yours. Then you started tugging on the curly hair of his Mohawk like you did when you’d really gotten into things.

He was just about to suggest he stay over at your place, when you were interrupted by a cop. You assumed he was going to warn you about loitering and apologized, but he and Johnny knew that wasn’t what it was about. He called Johnny “Soap”, and you were confused as to how they knew each other.

“Oh, Scotboy here goes back with the law a long ways back home.” The cop tried to clap Johnny on the shoulder only for him to violently dodge it. “Easy. I’m not booking you on anything…tonight.”

You were at a loss for what the cop thought he could book Johnny on, and called it out as harassment. Johnny knew, by the sick expression on his face, that the cop was eager to spill it all once he realized how little you knew about the man you were clutching. He tried to prevent that from happening.

“Yeah well, you’re just wastin’ time then, and we have a drive.” Johnny’s arm tightened around your shoulder as he started to lead you away.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what he’s told you, but if you were my daughter I’d want you to know. That’s a dangerous man you’re on the arm of.”

“Shut up.” Johnny growled, and he knew you had to be thinking about how you’d never seen him like this, but he’d also never been this angry around you.

“Johnny…” you pushed at him to try and get him to move, but he was rooted in rage.

He knew where the cop was taking it.

“This was when you were a prospect back in England right? The number you did on the guys from that other charter…interpol still talks about it. Oh wait…they never proved it was you did they?”

Johnny thumbed his nose and sniffed, jutting out his chin in utter opposition of the man in front of him. “Nah, wasnae even in the country at the time.”

“That’s right. You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve only read the reports our precinct got when you boys moved to town.” The obnoxious officer bounced his palm off his forehead in a mock gesture.

Johnny felt you squeeze his arm, grounding him for the moment, and he thought you might be saying something. His ears sounded like the Grand Rapids ran through them. A hot rage was settling into his chest, and spilling into other parts of his being.

The smug expression of the cop, one of the ones on the force who’d made things personal with the club was

“Johnny!” You shook him, finally getting through to him. “I want to leave.”

He exhaled, softening at your expression. Little tremors of adrenaline wracked through him, but he still led you towards his bike by a firm grip.

“You know, they included pictures in those files they sent over. What you did to those guys..” The cop whistled from behind you.

Johnny helped you into your helmet, watching as your eyes raced with questions, but you were so good for him. You would wait to ask him.

He brushed his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks. “Ignore him bon. Whatever he says, please.”

“But, the real shame is what happened to Anna.” The cop continued.

In a straight shot, Johnny launched himself at him. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth!”

“They cut her up pretty bad. Was her nose always on the side of her-”

—

He knew it was bait, and he admitted as much later, but he’d taken the active grenade in his hand all the same. The wounds that piece of shit poked were too raw not to, on top of probably killing everything between you and him.

Everything was designed to hit a critical point in him. His past deeds, Anna, and most importantly, you.

All he could think about was if he was going to lose you after tonight, there was no way he wasn’t going to make it count all over the bastard’s face.

The local police had been looking for something, anything, to get the club on, but they’d been too careful. That’s what Price had told you on the way to the precinct. Johnny had dialed for you while the cop was getting back to his feet.

“Was any of what he said true?” You were clutching your purse the way you had since you’d gotten into the car with Price and the club’s lawyer.

“I don’t know what you mean love?” Price looked at you cooly, not giving anything away, though you were sure he knew what you meant.

“Never mind.” You shook your head. “I know it’s true. Did Johnny really hurt those guys? Who’s Anna?”

Price kept his eyes on the road, while the lawyer kept his attention on his phone. The air couldn’t have been more tense,

“You should talk to your boy sweetheart. Don’t let some future desk-riding prick make you doubt the man who’d rip out his own heart just to show you it’s yours.”

You swallowed, hard, and didn’t say anything else until you got to the station.

“Um…I think I’m just going to Uber home. Tell Johnny I’ll call him.”

Price nodded, but his look was disapproving. “‘m sorry to hear that,” he adjusted his dark beanie. “But if that’s what you think is best.”

You did not call him. Not later when you were sure he had been released, and not the next day. You wouldn’t even open the never-ending text thread between you two.

He texted you early enough to be apologetic about it, and you had to push your phone to the far side of your bed to stop yourself from responding.

You went about your daily routine, getting ready for your shift at the diner. Your one room apartment didn’t allow you the luxury of pretending your phone wasn’t blowing up with text messages, but you were too afraid you’d cave if you saw the screen while attempting to silence it.

He showed up at the diner, and you pretended to be too busy in the back until he left.

He waited outside of your place, but you wouldn’t come down, going so far as to turn off the lights when you realized he was there.

No call was answered, no text replied to.

Johnny was a wreck. So much so, that as furious as Price and Ghost had been, as much as they’d come down on him, they weren’t sure he’d even heard it. They saw his regret, he did have his brothers and their families in mind, along with the fact that he was a higher ranked member who set a piss poor example for prospects and basic members.

The fact that his stunt could’ve cost them their freedom. He saw all of that.

But he was HURTING. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It was all Johnny could do to roll out of bed and do the basics before he crawled back again.

All the club girls dropped by his dorm. Some to be flirtatious, which he lashed out at, some to show sympathy.

Mrs. Price and Ghost’s girl were especially gentle. It’s the darkest period in Johnny’s life, even when factoring in the Anna situation. It’s clear to all around him, you’re it for him. His soul is yours, and he’s dying without you.

It was Simon who came to you and changed your mind. He couldn't take seeing Johnny that way. The whole table was worried, but Johnny was a little brother to the taciturn specter. He’d only see him like this once before, and this was ten times worse.

In the early afternoon, the diner’s customers were nothing but truckers and elderly folks. So when the 6’4 blond with trunk-thick arms, and a permanent scowl walked in, there was no ignoring him. You noticed the kutte, and thought about making a break for the back, but his look said ‘try it’, and you thought better of it.

Instead, you wound up in a back booth with him, taking your 15 minute break.

“‘m not the preachin’ sort, so I’ll get on with it.” He stared right through you, lighting a cigarette. “‘s no business of mine what you and Johnny decide to do, but you need to talk to him.”

You started to tell him no smoking, but didn’t feel like exerting the effort. Let your boss deal with it if it mattered.

Your hands trembled, so you put them beneath the table in your lap. “If it’s none of your business, then why are you here?”

”Because, it’s destroying him. You’re destroying him.” He turned for a moment to exhale away from your face, and then his gaze was cutting right back to you. “Lad’s a mess and a half without you. We’ve tried to sort him out, but it’s gonna take you.”

”He lied to me!“ the exclamation left your mouth without a thought to volume control, and you pointedly ignored the stares you knew were at your back.

”You knew.” he said simply. “You may not have known the specifics, and we told him not to do it that way, but you knew.”

Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly, trying to express the million thoughts in your head.

”You may be a town over, but our name gets around. I know you’ve heard somethin’.” He tipped the ash in the glass of water you’d gotten him. “You’re a smart bird by Johnny’s account.”

“If you told him not to lie, then why are you telling me not to be upset?”

“‘m not, ‘m tellin’ you to hear him out. Put him out of his misery, whatever you decide.”

The man left the booth, standing back to his full height and casting a shadow over the booth.

“He’s a right fuckin’ mess. Loves you more than life.”

“More than Anna?” The name that had been swirling around in your mind came out in a semi-bitter question.

There was something that could have possibly been a flinch, but you weren’t sure. It made you regret mentioning it either way.

He stubbed out the cigarette. “He’ll be round yours by the time you get off.”

He was. Looking completely unconfident and nervous about being there. His eyes were bloodshot, and his beloved mohawk showed signs of too many anxious tugs.

This wasn’t what you were used to with the confident man, and you didn’t like it. You understood, you looked the same way, but you didn’t like it.

He was apologizing constantly, between spilling streams of exposition that only served to confuse you, instead of clearing things up. You finally had to tell him it would just be easier if you could ask questions instead, and he sat back and became an open book.

It went all evening, and then well into the morning. Every question led into lengthy conversation.

—

“Who’s Anna?”

“...A good lass who didn’t deserve what she got.”

—

“So it’s definitely more than just appreciating bikes. Why?”

“They’re my family, and they’ve always had my back while lettin’ me be myself. If I have to do somethin’ a lil dodgy now and then, that’s a small price to pay.”

—

“I don’t doubt you love me Johnny, you make it impossible to, but how can I trust you after this?”

“By takin’ the chance to believe me when I say I’d rather die than go through this again. If honesty brings you back to me, I’ll never leave it out again.”

The sun is rising by the time the two of you are talked out. You make him stay, seeing that his sleep deprivation was starting to collect its due. It was you who didn’t sleep while you pet his hair from where he laid on your lap, and thought over your feelings.

He wakes when you inform him he has a phone call. He tells you to answer it, and you realize it’s a gesture towards the honest leaf turn.

He took the time to honesty dump with you, so you admit to him that while you’re still hurt, your mind's made up about taking him back.

It should have frightened you how quickly you sank back into things with Johnny, but what actually frightened you was the reason why. You realized you were just as addicted to him as he was to you. How had you lasted the past couple of weeks?

It’s a mutual obsession, only strengthened by a period of absence. Something he vowed would never happen again.

You let him give you your first tattoo, and you even let him pick the design. He couldn’t believe you trusted him with the honor, and he wound up asking if you were sure five times.

“Baby, yes!” you laughed, squeezing his cheeks as a form of cute aggression over his heart eyes.

This was such an intimate act for him, that he made sure you were completely alone in his dorm room when the day came. The room is spotless for once, sanitized to government standards. You can’t help but notice that he’s lit candles in your favorite scent, and his playlist is all soft music for once.

He spent weeks sketching the perfect concept, and even created variations for your choosing. He went through soooo many pages, unwilling to settle when it came to his girl.

In the end, it was decided, and he got to work on the inner wrist tattoo. All the while, he was checking in with you to make sure you were good.

“It’s just a small piece baby, I’m ok.” You always pressed a kiss to his nose to reassure him and get him back to work.

He looked so handsome, locked in concentration, that it almost completely distracted from the pain. You’d seen him work before, and you loved it, but this wasn’t just work right now. He was giving you something important, and you sensed that.

When he finally finished, he sheepishly, almost fearfully, asked you what you thought.

“It’s everything Johnny. When everyone asks who’s the talent behind it, I can’t wait to say he’s my man.”

Soap has no regard for anyone or any place when he wants you, which is all the time. You’re all over the clubhouse together. The couches, the hallways, the armory. Officially, clubhouse outer-walls are your spots during cookouts.

Gaz walked into the storage room, focused on finding a part for a customer. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed you through the empty space on a tall shelf.

“Hi, eh, Kyle!” All that was visible was your face, and he wondered for a second why you were out of breath.

“Hey (Y/N), what’re you doing back here?” He gave you a side glance and smile, his attention mainly on the organized shelves.

“I’m..” you bit your lip, unable to form another word as your eyes rolled back.

Kyle froze, realizing what was happening. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me mate?!”

“You walked in on us!” Johnny’s indignant cry came from below his line of vision.

Sooo many lunch break dates. Technically, Johnny is on shift at the garage, and should be preparing for the next day’s run, but his best girl needs him :( . You work so hard at that cafe, and they never appreciate you. Not like he does.

So when he takes the work pickup truck to get you, knowing Price has told him a million times it’s not for that, he can’t be bothered to care.

“Johnny, tell me you did not go across town to buy me this sandwich.” You already knew the answer, and you wanted to scold him for neglecting himself again. “You’re gonna be late getting back to the shop!”

“You love it though. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of ya.”

“That’s not the point, you-“

“You’re so pretty baby.”

And you melt and forget to be upset.

You can’t stay mad at Johnny with heart eyes and loving, grabby hands. Especially when those grabby hands start to get a little more focused…

What happens in the work truck, stays in the work truck. Until he gets drunk and brags at a club party….

The fun times were well and good, but Soap knew that the day would come when you got a glimpse at the uglier parts of the life. He barely got you back, and you throwing up your hands and declaring it was all too much was all he could think about.

They’d been having issues with the Shadows MC, and it was starting to boil over. They didn’t like the 141 moving in on their territory, but his table had made it clear that wasn’t up to them. This resulted in many skirmishes he could keep under wraps, but then it came to a head.

They’d hit the Shadows hard at one of their core locations, and in preparation for retaliation, Price and Ghost had called a lockdown. This meant all old ladies, kids, and friends of the club were to hunker down at the club compound until they gave the ok.

The day was here, and he’d been dreading it. He couldn’t very well leave you out there, he hadn’t exactly been subtle that you were his girl, but surely you wouldn’t go for it.

Nothing had been asked of you so far, and he was trying his best to keep from burdening you like the typical old lady. He felt you’d be less likely to leave if he kept the weightier things from you.

He must have paced up and down your street in the dark for over an hour. His phone was blowing up with demands he ‘get his ass back to the compound’ with you, ‘NOW’, but he had to do it right. It wasn’t easy to say “We mowed down some of our enemies, and destroyed their operation, and some guys could make you pay for that.”

He could lose you tonight. He could relive his past.

When he finally did get up the nerve to tell you, he was shocked at how well you took it. He knew you were scared, and you couldn’t have been too happy either, but he loved you for your strength in that moment.

All you did was quietly pack, while his mouth ran a mile-a- minute. Swinging wildly between telling jokes, assuring you you’d fit in just fine with the other old ladies, and apologizing. You kept telling him you were fine, but your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

It took a week to beat the Shadows back. In that time Johnny had been in and out of safe houses, with barely a spare minute to check in with you. If he was being honest, he was terrified.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that when he got back to the compound, you wouldn’t be there. You’d be long gone, and when he went to your place, the things he’d left (so sneakily) would be in a box waiting on the doorstep.

He was so sure of this, that he wanted to go by your place first, but his bone-weary brothers were barely sitting upright on their bikes. Battered and bruised to hell, he couldn’t ask them to indulge his paranoia. The table didn’t like to be too far from each other until they were fully assured they were whole back home.

He was the last to walk through the door, to the shock of his brothers, but he didn’t want to tell them he was probably about to scream his throat raw when he saw you weren’t there.

He clenched and unclenched his aching fists in anxiety. ‘Just look around the room you daft fucker!’ He mentally scolded himself.

He didn’t get a chance to. You barreled into him, arms locking around his neck. He stumbled back, weariness and shock combining to make his footing unstable, but his back hit the solid metal door behind him.

“I was so fucking worried.” You whispered into his neck, and he felt his neck dampen with what he presumed were tears.

“I was too…” he admitted, finding it in him to grip you to his person with a desperate strength.

Relief flooded his body when you started pressing kisses all over his face, and all he could do was stand there. Receiving your love.

“Oh!” You tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you. “Johnny put me down, the girls told me about how tired you guys are when something like this happens. You should be resting.”

“I’ll get to that bonnie, just keep kissing me like that.” He whispered, hands slipping into the back pocket of your jeans to keep you close.

You took over as soon as you got him back to his dorm room. You helped him undress, made sure he didn’t collapse in the shower, and even straightened his precious Mohawk while he struggled to pull on the sweats you’d grabbed him. All the while, awkward apologies from him. From you, excited recollections of all the things you’d learned from the strong women around you over the week.

Johnny supposed he had them to thank. In the back of his mind he’d been wondering what flipped the switch, and gifted him the kind of welcome home he used to envy the taken members of the club for getting. You were the best girlfriend he ever had, but an old lady was something else, yet here you were, excelling at that too.

And later, in his room after the hot shower, he collapsed face first on the bed. It took one, deep inhale of the fresh linen to know someone had done laundry. He exhaled with a hum, openly appreciating the clean scent.

“Yeah, you can thank me later.” You laughed, entering the room from his bathroom.

Johnny heard the sound of a lid pop, but was too far gone to look back and see what it was. Then you straddled his back, your soft hands kneading out a week’s worth of tension, self-inflicted and otherwise. He groaned, feeling the soothing lotion follow your hands over the peaks and valleys of his muscular frame.

“Addin’ this to my tab then?” He slurred, half in the dream realm, half with the love of his life.

“Yep, but I know you’re good for it.” You leaned down, nipping his ear, and making him mewl in frustration as he hardened against the mattress, knowing there’d be nothing he could do about it at the moment.

He used the last of what he had to flip you over, mentally cataloging the adorable squeak you let out. Cupping your cheeks, he shared a soft look with you for just a moment, before he sealed his lips over yours. All he could do was hope you could feel everything he wanted to say behind the movement of his lips.

Judging by your soft sighs, he guessed you could.

He pulled away, settling half on you, half off. “I’m settlin’ my debts soon as I’m up hen. Bet on it.”

He makes Ghost promise to take care of you if something ever happens to him.

“Johnny, shut fuck up,” Ghost glared at him, faint facial scars following his frown. “You’ll outlive us all.”

Johnny stared at him from across the meeting table, more serious than a personification of the sun had any right to be. They were the only two in the briefing room, for some reason the place felt sacred enough to Soap for such a request.

“‘m serious VP, that’s ma heart, I love her.” His accent thickened with emotion, and he sipped his bar as if to wash it back.

His fingers flexed around the sweating glass. “‘m gonna marry her.”

“Lads and I knew that the first time you talked about her.”

Soap smiled at that, but his expression quickly returned to its serious state. “Sweet girl and me have been talkin’ about kids, preferably after.”

A fond quiet bloomed between them at that admission. The two of you had told no one else, and Johnny felt guilty violating your pillow talk confessionals, but he hoped it would get Ghost to agree.

“Want that more than anythin’ VP, but I can’t pull the trigger until I know they’ll be looked after.”

“The club-“

“Not just the club!” He ran a hand through his mohawk in frustration.

Why couldn’t the stubborn fucking giant just agree?

“I know the club will look after them in general. I know I can trust our table, hope I can trust the other charters.” He sighed, refocusing. “You’re my best friend Simon. I just have to know my girl, and my bairn, would always have you at their back. If I died.”

“Wouldn’t happen. I’d lay my life down so you could make it back-“

Johnny shook his head, choosing not to repeat himself. Instead, he gave his friend a pleading look.

He could see a storm of thoughts and emotions competing for dominance in his friend’s mind. His expression didn’t change much, but it was in his eyes if you knew him.

He saw why Simon was resisting, he didn’t feel worthy of being looked to in that way.

Finally, Ghost responded after grinding his cigarette out in the dish on the table. “Promise the same f’me then. I’ve fucked her life up enough, shouldn’t still be doin’ it when I’m gone.”

“On my honor.” Soap didn’t even have to think, it was an instinct.

“Then tell your missus you’re ready. I’ll cover my end.”

———

Price:

Head honcho. Chief. The Boss. Captain of the ship. It’s all the same no matter who calls him what, President Price is in charge.

He founded the club after leaving his original due to lack of loyalty, and thoughtless endeavors. He works overtime to make sure his club doesn’t fall in the same way. His code of ethics may not make a lick of sense to anyone outside of the outlaw life, but they’ve garnered the respect and admiration of some of the toughest men around the globe.

They’d follow him through hell because they know he’d be the first one in.

When they’re on a run, selling guns or attending a meeting in neutral territory, John’s mind is all business until business is done. Then it’s all you. He loves hearing his guys talk about how they’re going to spend their new check, or swapping stories about their old ladies. Sometimes, he even joins in.

But what he really wants to do is celebrate with you. Most times you’re already up at the compound. Seeing to the legitimate businesses, taking care of the girls, helping the member’s families, etc.

He respects what you do, what you’re capable of, beyond borders. However, he can’t help but be jealous. You always come to him first, tight hug and a long soft kiss, but then you’re quickly looking over his guys. The men revel in it, almost becoming kittens under your motherly ministrations. Especially Soap and Gaz, who you’re in the same age group as, but you scold all the same.

When the last man has been sent on his way, he’s dragging you away to the little bedroom off his office. He knows you find it amusing, to see his selfishness win out over any tiredness he’s feeling.

Before the door can even close, he’s pulling you close and kissing you his favorite way. A kiss he didn’t know he was capable of until you became his wife. Anytime he was gone too long, you did something that knocked him off his feet, or your affection wasn’t directed solely at him, he kissed you that way.

He cradled your head, holding you steady when he pressed his lips to yours. He left no room for there to be room between the two of you. Rough thumbs slid under your chin, tilting your head up slightly before he slid his tongue between your lips. He knew he had to release you soon, let you remember how to breathe, but it was hard to fight the hunger.

“Nothing flatters me like my big biker husband being unable to share me for two seconds.” you teased, but your teasing came out in short puffs, as your lungs weren’t cooperating with you at the moment.

He could feel you swaying, going dizzy, and he brushed his beard over your ear to make you squirm before he said. “Jump love.”

You did, feeling his heavy hands grasp your thighs seconds later. He slid your legs over his hips, encouraging you to lock down around his waist.

“I’m just making sure you take care of what’s yours.” he thrust upward, hardness touching. “I promised it to you that first time.”

He laid you across the bed, staring down at you with a darkened smirk. “Take some responsibility for the state of your possessions.”

He’s the head of an organization that now exists in several countries. All that responsibility is tiring, even for a man so skilled at navigating it, and there’s been many a day when all he can do is lay his head down for the pain of the headaches.

You can’t count how many times you’ve come up to the club when he didn’t come home, only to find him furiously puffing a cigar and downing shots to dull the pain.

The guys had families to feed, there were good men behind bars for them that needed to be taken care of, he had tables back home that needed guidance, there were property expenses, legal retainer fees, and more. Much more.

That meant more risky non-legit work, which meant stretching the legitimate business to cover what that brought in. He had to know when it was time to expand, when it was time to halt, and when it was time to move to something else.

But he’s just a man, one man, and you’re there to remind him of that.

“John?” You had been expecting to find him in his office, but the moment you stepped into the club house, you saw him at the bar.

He wasn’t alone.

Phillip Graves, president of the Shadows MC finished off his drink and clapped John on the back.

“We’ll talk again.” He nodded his head towards you with a wink and a smile. “Ma’am.”

Your narrowed eyes followed him out of the door, remaining there until his motorcycle’s engine was a distant roar. At that point, you turned back to your husband.

He was gripping his forehead, lit cigar balanced on the heavy crystal ashtray next to him. The last remnants of whisky mingled with the melting ice in his glass, which he threw back before attempting a fake smile.

”Hello darling, you just close up shop?”

”Yeah, and I got home to find my husband wasn’t there. What the fuck John? You said you were going to work on this.”

You tossed your purse on the counter. “And Graves?! I can’t even-“

”(Y/N), don’t start.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do not have that in me right now.”

Sighing, you placed one hand on his back, using the other to put out his cigar. He protested with a disapproving grunt, but was too tired to do more than that. Your face softened at that realization.

He pushed back from the bar a little, allowing you to slide onto his lap, legs splitting over his thighs. “I’m just worried. You can lead a table, you can lead the whole organization, but you can’t carry the whole thing on your back.”

You cupped his head like he often did to yours, and massaged the base of his skull. His eyes slid shut, body going lax, and he practically purred.

Leaning down, you scattered gentle kisses on his face, careful to leave no spot untouched, before going in for a whiskery kiss. It was here John took over, thanking you for the attention.

“You know that it’s not you I don’t trust right?” you asked between kisses. “It’s him.”

“I know, and you know I value your judgment.” He got underneath your shirt, hands rubbing your sides slowly.

There was a moment of domestic peace and quiet. You massaging his temple, and he massaging your sides. Though you trusted the capable man going soft under your hands, you hoped he wouldn’t regret whatever Graves was bringing to your door.

John doesn’t come to your shop often, but it’s not because he doesn’t support your career. It’s because he can’t watch you work for very long without wanting you biblically on every surface.

You love his open attraction to you, so it’s not exactly the easiest thing to ignore. No matter how much you try to stay focused on the job, the man is the love of your life, and he looks handcrafted by god.

Hunched over a client’s thigh, your brows were drawn in concentration on the elaborate Victorian cameo piece.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see John lounging in the plush desk chair he’d dragged over. A good distance to respect your client, but close enough, he could keep eyes on his favorite person.

Your client was amused, laughing through a wince, she nodded in John’s direction. “You’ve got a not-so-secret admirer.”

“I’ve been caught lovely, what to do now?”

”Ignore you.” You quipped before glancing up at your client. “He’s my husband.”

”Oh,” she hummed. “That explains the heart eyes.”

At that, you did have to look up, instantly wishing you hadn’t. It was a visual trap.

John, sitting there like the king he was, manspreading with no shame. Black beanie, tight jeans, dark sweater with his royal kutte draped over the sweater, and leather boots. You told him more than once he could model, to which he feigned offense.

“Focus on your work.” John admonished, but the smirk he said it though was pure sin.

Your eyes had strayed below the belt, and John was fully aware of this. Reveling in it really.

”Don’t you have a bike to fix? A prospect to bottle feed?”

”Nope,” his arms crossed behind his head, an action you saw out of the corner of your eye. “I belong to my missus this evening.”

Your client cooed, undoubtedly enjoying the banter between you and John. You did too, too much, and his bit about belonging to you made you have to pause and readjust yourself.

”Every evening really.”

”That’s nice John.” You hissed, lifting the gun from her skin to wave him off.

Your client laughed, trying hard to hold herself steady for you.

“Don’t encourage him.” you turned yourself at an angle slightly, trying and failing to ignore him.

“Well, it’s really far more than just evenings isn’t i-“

You lifted your foot from the pedal, and placed the tattoo gun on the tray next to you.

“Kitchen, now.” You gave your client a sheepish smile. “We were due for a break anyway hun. Can I get you anything?”

She was visibly entertained by you and John, after all, the two of you had become a legendary couple in these parts for a reason.

“I’m good, take your time.”

John winked at your client, strolling behind you into the back. You waited until he was in the kitchenette before sliding the door closed.

”You’re such an ass.” But your hands were already under his sweater, running up and down his chest.

You appreciated that he took up so much space in the little room, forcing the two of you together. You could blame the room’s dimensions for being all over him, and not your unwavering attraction to the man.

“I haven’t seen you in 15 hours, yes, I counted. I’m always counting when it comes to you. You can’t ask me to behave.”

Large hands slid into your hair, fingers interlocking to cradle your head. He didn’t even have to pull you in to kiss you, and he grinned, clearly also appreciating the size of the space.

“You think she’s a big enough fan to give us thirty?”

You actually have three rings. Your engagement ring, your wedding ring, and one of John’s rings that he gave you the first night you fucked.

In the quiet of the briefing room, somewhere you were surprised to be, you sat on his lap. The two of you soaked up the afterglow, the party raging outside fading to a dull noise outside of your own world. Coming down from your high, you let out a soft noise of surprise when John gripped your hair to kiss you with one hand. The other hand grasped your own, the one that had come to rest on his chest when you’d ridden him into his throne.

He slid the silver, braided band onto your ring finger, promising. “The first to come”

He loves to get in the ring and show off for you. Sometimes, there’s a loud mouth from a visiting club, or another table visiting, and John takes them to the ring they have in the back of the club’s compound.

Usually, it’s Konig’s or Simon’s domain, but it’s not because John doesn’t love dishing it out as much as them. That becomes apparent when he delivers careful, strategically brutal, blows to his opponent. Enough to win, and then a few more to humble.

You had long ago stopped lying to yourself about how much it turned you on. So when John emerged from the ring, panting, abs catching the compound’s lights on a sheen of sweat, you always dragged him off. Under the guise of cleaning him up of course ;).

John’s breeding kink goes wild when he sees you with a baby, or any kid really. He’s been around the club life long enough to see many couples welcome kids. One of the first outings the two of you made as an official thing was to the hospital to see the birth of a member’s baby.

His old lady bonded with you, and you were quickly given child holding privileges. It came so naturally to you, and John felt what he figured the two of you would get to eventually quickly build itself a home in his chest. New Kink unlocked: breed you on any surface he could find.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, it was hypnotizing. His family around him saw it for what it was. Their president had this future scene, starring you and him, written all over him.

He thought the intensity of it was something he had to keep under wraps until he noticed you had the same feelings.

Baby showers, shopping for 141 babies, school drives and charities the club did for the local youth, seeing cute kids on social media. It didn’t matter, John caught on to the fact that you fucked him like a feral rabbit whenever you got that maternal glint in your eye. He didn’t call you on it until after you were married. The day when your shop receptionist went on maternity leave.

You’d been going on all through dinner, and then while doing the dishes, about how cute the kid would be, and you loved helping her with her nursery, and how she was already glowing. The more you ranted, the harder he got, until finally, he trapped you against the counter.

“I reckon it’d be easier to just say you want to be a mum.” he lifted one leg to his waist, and bucked against your clothed heat. “Say it.”

You stammered, eyes wide, pupils blown. “J-John..”

“Say it.” his voice somehow found a lower octave to sink to, choked with desire.

“What are you talking about?” you whined, embarrassed at being found out.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m hard as steel love, you feel that?” he grabbed your wrist, kissing the knuckles before quickly brushing them over his length.

“That’s how bad I want to make you a mum, can’t you just admit it too?”

Tilting your chin up, he placed tiny kisses under your chin, purposely dragging his beard across the soft skin after each kiss.

“C’mon then, tell your husband the truth so I can give us what we both want”

You whimpered, clutching the fabric of his t-shirt. “John..”

“Go on, invite me in.” he slipped his index finger in the top of your panties just enough to play with the elastic. Stretching it until it threatened to fly back against your skin before he eased it back in place.

You moved forward in an attempt to make his finger slip lower, and he laughed darkly, holding you in place. Shaking his head, he repeated his precious statement.

“Give me a baby John.” you huffed, frustration rising until all that you could do was spill the truth.

Gasping, you felt the cold tile of the counter beneath your thighs. You tried to process how he’d gotten you up there so fast, but your mind didn’t want to focus on anything other than your husband kneeling before you with the most determined look you’d ever seen.

As he slipped your panties and pajama shorts down your legs, he whispered how it’d be best if you prepared an excuse for work while you could still think straight.

315 notes · View notes

valkyriexo · 25 days

Text

You have a Migraine | Seungmin

ᑉ³pairing; Seungmin x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff

ᑉ³warnings; Reader dealing with a migraine, Pills mentioned

ᑉ³Authors Note; Other members coming soon! Edited.

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room as you lie in bed, cocooned in blankets. But despite the peaceful scene outside your window, there's no rest to be found within the confines of your own mind.

Your temples throb with a relentless intensity, each pulse sending shockwaves of pain through your skull. Migraine days are the worst, and today seems determined to be the pinnacle of that agony.

You try to ignore the pounding in your head, focusing instead on the rhythmic ticking of the clock on your bedside table. But even the steady beat seems to mock you, a reminder of the passing minutes that only serve to prolong your suffering.

With a heavy sigh, you reach out for the bottle of painkillers that has become a permanent fixture in your life. You're all too familiar with the ritual of opening its childproof cap, but today, as you twist it off, your heart sinks.

The bottle is empty.

With a groan, you try to summon the strength to get out of bed, but the pain pins you down like an anchor. Frustration, thick and palpable, mixes with the pain, creating a cocktail of misery that threatens to engulf you entirely. Each attempt to rise is met with a wave of nausea, a cruel reminder of the physical toll this puts on you. The room spins, a dizzying carousel of sensations that leaves you disoriented and defeated.

You clench your teeth, willing yourself to push through the fog of agony that clouds your mind.

Every muscle in your body protests as you attempt to sit up, each movement sending shockwaves of pain radiating outward from the epicenter in your head.

With a final, desperate effort, you manage to swing your legs over the edge of the bed, your feet meeting the cold, unforgiving floor below. But even this small victory feels hollow, overshadowed by the relentless drumbeat of pain that reverberates through you.

You close your eyes against the harsh glare of the morning light. But even in the darkness behind your eyelids, the pain persists.

You can't bring yourself to stand, the pain worsening with each passing moment. Doubts gnaw at the edges of your consciousness. Were there even any pills left in the medicine cabinet?

The thought of standing seems utterly futile, a mountain too steep to climb in your current state.

Your mind races, searching desperately for a solution amid the fog of agony. There's only one thing you can think to do. With trembling fingers, you reach for your phone, wincing at the harsh light it emits as you unlock the screen and dial Seungmin's number.

Each ring feels like an eternity, each passing second an eternity of suffering. But then, finally, his voice breaks through the haze of pain.

"Hello?" His voice is filled with concern.

"Seungmin," you manage to choke out, your voice barely more than a whisper. "It's... it's bad. I need... help."

There's a pause on the other end of the line, a heartbeat of uncertainty before Seungmin's reassuring voice fills your ears once more. "I'm on my way," he says, his words a promise of relief.

As you wait for Seungmin's arrival, time seems to stretch into eternity, each moment punctuated by the relentless throbbing in your temples. The minutes drag on, each one feeling like an eternity as you struggle to hold onto a semblance of composure amidst the storm of pain.

Finally, just when you're beginning to fear that he might not come, there's a soft knock on the door. You struggle to open your eyes, squinting against the harsh light filtering through the curtains. "Come in," you manage to croak out.

It swings open to reveal Seungmin standing on the other side. His eyes widen in concern as he takes in your disheveled appearance, and without a word, he steps forward to wrap you in a gentle embrace.

"I'm here," he murmurs softly, his voice a soothing balm against the raw edges of your pain. "Everything's going to be okay."

"It hurts so much, Minnie," you say, tears escaping despite your efforts to hold them back.

"I know, I know," he replies, his voice laced with empathy, his eyes reflecting the depth of his concern.

His eyes scan the room, searching for any way to alleviate your suffering. Spotting the dimmer switch, he stands silently. With a flick of his wrist, he adjusts the lighting, the soft glow casting shadows that offer a respite from the harsh brightness.

Not content with just that, he strides over to the window, pulling the curtains closed carefully. Each movement is precise, deliberate, as he ensures not a single ray of light infiltrates the room. The darkness that envelops you feels like a sanctuary, shielding you from the pain.

As he returns to your side, you feel a sense of gratitude wash over you, a warmth that eases the chill of pain.

"Better?" he asks, his voice gentle as he takes a seat beside you on the bed, resuming his previous position.

You nod gratefully, the gesture feeling like too much effort.

Seungmin reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small bottle of pills. He had remembered your preferred medication, and he always keep it on hand, whether in the dorms or car. With a reassuring smile, he hands you a couple of pills along with a bottle of water from your nightstand.

After a few moments of silence, the medication starts to work its magic, gradually easing the relentless ache in your head.

"I'm sorry," you say softly, breaking the silence that envelops the room.

Seungmin turns to you, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What for?"

"I know you're not really big on physical touch," you explain, your voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry I bothered you with all this."

His expression softens, and he reaches out to gently squeeze your hand. "Hey, don't apologize. I'm here because I want to be. Helping you through this is the least I can do."

As he spoke, your head pinged with pain, every word feeling like a hammer striking against your skull. You wince, from the noise, the throbbing in your temples growing more intense with each syllable.

"I know noise tends to be painful when this happens, and I just want to let you know that I'm okay with sitting in silence, as long as you're comfortable," Seungmin says quietly.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, both from the pain and from the overwhelming kindness of his words. Despite the agony you're enduring, he remains by your side, offering his own version of comfort.

Seungmin's touch is gentle as he runs his fingers through your hair, his movements soothing against your scalp. His fingertips tracing delicate patterns across your skin as if trying to soothe away the pain with each caress. His kisses are soft and fleeting, pressed gently against your forehead and temples, a gesture of comfort and affection in the midst of your suffering.

"Thank you," you manage to murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

He shakes his head, his expression gentle and reassuring. "Stop apologizing. Just rest."

With a nod, you lean back against him and the pillows, finding solace in the silence that descends upon the room. At that moment, despite the pain, you feel a sense of peace wash over you, knowing that whatever happens, you will always have him by your side.

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fandomxpreferences · 1 year

Text

Guess You Really Did It This Time (Part 2 of Heartbroke Bitch)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Ex!Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

TW:ANGST, honestly I think thats it?

Summary: Rafe confronts you after you sleep over at his house, but it goes so much worse than he imagined.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: This was supposed to end fluffy, but It wasnt realistic so it'll be a three parter (maybe 4? who knows.)

You blink a few times as your vision adjusts to the blinding sun rays pouring through the curtains directly into your eyes. Your throat is hoarse as you groan; this is the worst comedown you've experienced so far.

It takes a second for you to place your surroundings, and the events of last night come rushing back when you do. The bed is empty and you hear the shower running, a hushed "thank you" falling from your mouth.

You take the opportunity gratefully, hastily ripping off Rafe's sweatshirt and squeezing back into your dress. Your phone and bag are on the nightstand, and you grab them before turning the handle to his room as quietly as you can.

You've never been so happy to be familiar with the layout of Tannyhill as you creep down the stairs and toward the front door.

You freeze when you register Rose staring at you with a knowing look. Your hand lifts with a short wave and you let yourself out before she can start asking questions.

You pull out your phone and call JJ, aware that he's the least likely to judge you. He is your best friend after all.

It only rings once before the blonde's voice rings out and you breathe a sigh of relief.

"Well, well, well. If it's not the woman, the myth, the le-"

You cut him off, not in the mood as you fight a violent case of the spins and try to keep from dry heaving.

"Shut it, JJ. Can you come get me? I'm at -"

This time he cuts you off and your eyebrows pinch together.

"Yeah, I know where you are Y/N/N. Give me five."

With that he hangs up, leaving you with more questions than you originally had. Number one being how the hell does he know where you are?

You don't even have your shoes but you can't bring yourself to care as you bolt down the yard and start your trek into town.

You know JJ will find you and the last thing you want is to be caught waiting by Rafe.

A few short minutes later you hear the dirt bike and stop in your tracks. You turn so your body is facing JJ and you give him a disheartened look.

"You have to be fucking kidding. JJ I'm wearing a dress and I'm three seconds from puking!" You complain and he gives a boyish smile while reaching into his backpack.

"That's why I brought these," he answers while offering you a pair of his sweatpants. You take them hesitantly and slip them on as he continues.

"As for puking, at least you don't have to worry about it getting in a car."

You groan as you kick a leg over his bike, careful to keep your bare feet away from the hot exhaust and wrap your arms around his torso.

"I literally hate you."

He chuckles as he revs the engine and twists to look back at you.

"Love you too."

Back at Tannyhill, Rafe's heart drops when he comes out of the bathroom to an empty bed. His hoodie is crumpled on the floor and he sighs.

He gets dressed quickly and bolts down the stairs, praying you're just getting something to eat the way you normally would.

When he finds the kitchen empty, his eyes flutter shut as familiar loneliness overtakes him. His thoughts are interrupted by Rose clearing her throat.

"She left a little while ago. Before you ask; no she didn't say anything."

He nods while grabbing his keys and your shoes before racing toward his truck. He already knows where you'll be.

The ride back has you clutching your pearls, literally and figuratively, as you barely keep consciousness.

Your headache has escalated to a migraine by the time you reach the chateau and you're pretty sure you could drink one of the Great Lakes all on your own.

You ignore the rest of the group teasing as you stumble inside, rummaging for some painkillers. You find them quickly and pour a handful into your mouth, not caring enough to check the dosage.

It can't be any more dangerous than what you've been doing anyway. You don't even bother with a cup, and JJ tsks behind you as you put your head in the sink and gulp water straight from the faucet.

"This is the most chaotic thing I've ever seen, and that's saying something. You're like a feral dehydrated animal."

Your only response is a middle finger as you pass him, clambering your way into the guest room you've claimed as yours.

Your familial situation is pretty similar to JJ's, without the violence, and up until the breakup you'd stayed with Rafe.

Now all your belongings are littered around the chateau. You grab a shirt and change quickly, paying no mind to your best friend, before plopping down on top of the comforter.

"How'd you know I was at Rafes?"

Jj rubs the back of his neck as you look up at him expectantly, already knowing you won't like the answer.

"He texted Sarah a picture of you sleeping on him when she asked him if he'd heard from you."

You take in his words and scoff in disbelief.

"Of course he did."

You collapse onto your front with your head buried into a pillow, craving relief from the ache in your body. JJ sits next to you and rubs your neck to ease your migraine, and you let out a content moan.

It's not even an hour before you hear a car pull up outside and you release a whine. You already know who it is, and you're decidedly not in the mood to deal with it.

JJ feels you tense under his large hand and sighs.

"Want me to get rid of him?"

You shake your head as you sit up and run a hand down your face.

"He'll just keep coming back. Might as well rip off the Bandaid."

He kisses the top of your head and stands, sending a sharp glare at your ex when he passes him in the hallway.

Rafe assumes that JJ left the room you're in and knocks on the door frame before stepping past the threshold.

His eyes take in the mess before landing on your tired figure. You look like hell with sunken bloodshot eyes and clammy skin.

He holds your shoes up to show you he brought them back before dropping them in the pile of other heels on the ground.

His brows furrow as he turns to you, taken aback at your sudden collection of designer items.

"You didn't have any of this when we were together. Where'd the sudden influx of Louboutin and high-end fashion come from?"

You stare at him blankly for a second before shrugging.

"Does it matter?"

He runs a hand through his hair, a telltale sign of his stress, as he takes in your defensive tone.

"I'm just curious."

He doesn't like the way your lips curl up into a vicious smile as if you take pleasure in the answer you're about to give.

"Gifts from my male suitors."

You don't give him time to respond before brushing past him and walking straight out of the chateau. He heaves an irritated breath when you let the screen door slam in his face and wrenches it back open.

He follows hot on your tail as the rest of the group watches the impending WWE smackdown.

"Come on, baby. I just want to talk."

You let out a loud laugh while continuing on your path and he hates how indifferent you're acting.

"You can talk all you want, but no promise I'll listen. And don't call me that."

You pretend not to notice your friends wince at your snarky reply in your peripheral as they try - and fail- to act like they aren't eavesdropping.

"So that's it? You don't want anything to do with me? What the hell was all that last night, then?" He shouts and you stop abruptly, causing him to slam into your back.

"A lapse in judgment."

He scoffs and you close your eyes, trying desperately not to let him get a rise out of you.

"Seems like you've been having a lot of those lately."

At that, you whip around on your heel, your hair smacking him in the face with the ferocity of your movement. He's got an arrogant smirk painted on his lips and your eyes narrow.

"I wasn't doing anything you weren't! If memory serves me, you're the one that walked out! Not me!"

Your voice is shrill as you scream in his face, tears starting to pour as you shove him back. All the pent-up hurt and rage are finally rearing their ugly heads, and it only makes you angrier. JJ moves to intervene, but John B stops him with a hand on his forearm.

"No, let them get this out. She's only going to continue on her bender if they don't resolve this."

JJ looks to Sarah for help but she only nods, agreeing with her boyfriend. The blonde sits back down with a huff, clearly unhappy at the situation unfolding in front of him.

Rafe shakes his head with flared nostrils, and it brings you a tinge of happiness to see him as upset as you. His chest is heaving as crimson crawls up his neck and cheeks.

"Because I was scared, not because I don't love you!"

As soon as the words leave his mouth, his eyes go wide and your mouth drops open in shock. You vaguely register Sarah gasp off to the side, and if you looked, you're sure you would find JJ with his jaw clenched hard enough to break teeth.

"Oh fuck off Rafe, what is that supposed to mean? You toss me aside like trash and then come back a month later to confess your love? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Your voice is significantly quieter now, your face scrunched up into a deep scowl.

"Y/N, even if you tell me to fuck off and never speak to me again, I need you to know the truth. The past month has been miserable and I hate what I did to you. I'm not judging you for how you handled it, I have no right."

You interrupt him with a scoff and stick a hip out.

"No, you don't."

He gives you a pointed look before continuing and you take a deep breath.

"I didn't leave because I don't love you, or because you're a pogue, or whatever else you might believe. I left because I do love you, though I didn't realize it at the time. Y/N, I'm fucked up. Like, something isn't right in my head. I didn't want to keep hurting you over and over, so I thought I'd let you move on and be happy with someone else."

You mull over his words and run a hand through your messy hair.

"I know."

Confusion washes over him and you rub your temples.

"I know you're fucked up, Rafe. I know everything, we were together for a year. But that doesn't mean you get to make the choice for me. I know you don't believe you're worthy of love, I get it. I've been in love with you since Midsummers, but I'm not going to stand here and beg you to let me in."

You wipe aggressively at the tears that are now rapidly cascading down your cheeks and off your face, ready to be done with this.

"I'm not asking you to do that. If anything, I'm begging for you to let me in. Please, I can't stand the thought of you out here putting yourself in harm's way. I haven't been with anyone else, and I don't want to be."

The rest of the group might as well have popcorn as their eyes dart back and forth between the two of you, unable to look away.

"No, Rafe. You're lying. I saw you that night with Missy!"

Everyone's head turns to look back at Rafe to gauge his reaction to your outburst.

"Yikes, not looking good for him." John B remarks and Sarah kicks his leg.

"Shut up, maybe there's an explanation."

John B is about to argue when Kie glares at them.

"Shut the fuck up, I can't hear!"

Rafe shakes his head, his hands coming up to cover his mouth before they drop back down to his sides. He takes a step closer and his heart plummets when you immediately move backward.

"No, I know what you think you saw. Nothing happened, I swear. We went back to my place and she slapped me because I moaned your name!"

"Oh shit." JJ snickers and the rest of the group sends him daggers as he raises his hands defensively.

"That's nice, Rafe. It doesn't change the fact you brought a woman home to the bed we shared less than a week later with the intent of fucking her."

He tilts his head back and stares at the sky, growing more frustrated by the second.

"I didn't though! You actually fucked god knows how many dudes!"

It's a low blow and he knows it, he can see you shutting down by the way your face drops and your shoulders tense.

"Yeah, I did. At least I got shit out of it. Besides, I brought them back here or went to theirs. I never would have brought them someplace that still smelled like you! That space was sacred Rafe, and you defiled it. My fucking clothes were still there."

Rafe's lip quivers as the gravity of the situation crushes him. He doesn't know how to fix it this time.

"How do I fix this, Y/N? Please, just tell me and I'll do it."

You sniffle as you shake your head, another tear falling into the dirt below.

"No, Rafe. I think you should leave."

You look away as he drops to his knees in front of you, literally pleading with you as he cries freely now.

"Y/N, please. Please, I know I fucked up. Please."

You stifle a sob as John B and JJ pull him to his feet and drag him away. You watch as he fights against the two men, too focused on you to care about being pushed around. He screams out as he thrashes, his voice breaking from the sheer volume and pain.

"Baby, please! Y/N, don't do this. I'll fix it, okay? I promise I'll fix it! I'll be better for you!"

You collapse into Kie and Sarah when their arms wrap around you, every emotion you've repressed suffocating you at once.

Sarah presses your face into her shoulder, her own tears falling as she keeps you pointed away from her hysterical brother.

Rafe is all but carried back to his truck against his will, and JJ pins him against the door.

"Rafe," He begins, but he's cut off by a particularly hard shove from the man. He leans his weight forward, using it as leverage, and puts his arm across Rafe's throat to still his movements.

"Look, man! I know you're upset, but so is she. You need to get the fuck out of here, okay? I'm trying to be nice about this, but you're testing my very thin patience."

Rafe finally admits defeat and slumps down as he watches your knees hit the ground, heavy sobs wracking your body. This is exactly what he was trying to avoid, he never wants to be the source of your pain.

John B watches as the older Cameron drives away, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. Maybe now you'll start to cope in healthier ways.

Rafe cries the entire way home, memories of your relationship flashing like movie scenes every time he blinks. He's going to fix this if its the last thing he does. He just needs a game plan.

Taglist for those who requested part 2!

@brooklynscherry-z @joselyn001 @writtenwordslover @craftyalmondghostflap @malfoytargaryen

#rafe cameron #Rafe Cameron imagine #Rafe Cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fic #outer banks angst #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks #outerbanks #outerbanks fic #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks angst

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