Part 9 (unrevised version). Since I've gotten 6 messages and a good bit of asks requesting to view it. Here it is, not in its final form.
You had hoped Monday would have treated you better than the past two days, but walking up to your shop in the pouring rain to already see a body standing outside waiting wasn't a good sign.
Customers who waited outside your shop always made you feel uncomfortable. But when you finally got close enough, you took in the person before you.
"We don't open for another hour." Your voice flat as you fished for your keys.
"I'll wait." Was Kyle's reply.
"Then you'll have to do it outside." You said, the key sliding into the lock. He didn't argue as you shut the door behind you. Didn't even bother knocking when, after thirty minutes, you looked in the window to see that the wind was causing the rain to blow sideways.
You relented. Letting him in thirty minutes earlier. It was a small mercy, even if he was soaked to the bone. You almost felt bad when his chattering teeth were the only thing you could hear.
Almost.
"I take it John told you about our little talk yesterday." You said, going about your business. Engaging in the conversation as if you were talking about the shitty weather that had tried to drown him.
"He did." He gave a sniffle. Running a hand over his beautiful, wet face. Droplets still staking their claim on his skin. "H-he alssso t-t-told us we were on our own in begging for our own f-forgiveness. Ra-ra- rightly s-s-s-so."
You huffed. Guilt beginning to eat at you before you turned, disappearing to the back of the store and coming back with a shirt and a blanket. "You left the shirt here."
He had no shame and wasted no time in taking off his jacket and soaked shirt. His chiseled body exposed to you. It was almost instinct to reach out and touch the soft skin. You luckily possessed some form of self restraint.
"So are you here to promise to make amends as well?" You crossed your arms. You meant it as a sign that you were wanting to create distance, but honestly you didn't trust yourself. It was second nature. Kyle and Johnny were tied when it came to having to always touch you.
Probably why his ghosting sucked so bad.
"I'd like to take you out." You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. It wasn't until Kyle's face fell that you realized, "Oh, you're actually serious."
He opened his mouth, ready to no doubt give you the same exact promises of doing better that John had given you the day before. Fortunately for Kyle, you didn't have the time to entertain a conversation.
"Fine." You immediately relented. No argument. "That Indian place where I asked you to go four months ago. Seven. If you manage to figure out which place, then I'll be meeting you there. Otherwise you'll be eating alone."
Kyle stood still. Unprepared for the fact that you had... agreed. You actually agreed to let him take you out.
"I can pick you up."
"Not sure what time I'll be getting off today. Might go home first. Might just go straight there." You started opening tasks again. "I have to finish setting up. Seven sharp.
"Seven sharp." He repeated, his smile lighting up the room.
It made you feel sick.
It was 6:45 when your phone started ringing. It was Kyle. Confirming that he was at the restaurant you were supposed to go.
7:00. He had gotten the two of you a table. He'll go ahead and order you a drink. They had mango lassi, but wasn't sure if you wanted to stick to just water.
7:15 He tries calling you. When it goes to voicemail, a follow up text is sent asking if you're okay.
At 7:20, while sitting on the couch you text back. Sorry. Something came up. We'll reschedule, I promise.
If you knew giving them a taste of their own medicine felt so good, you would have done it ages ago. You felt no since of shame in sending it. You hated being petty, but you wanted them to know what it felt like.
John had a lot more of verbal outbursts coming his way and if Johnny was hoping for a chance, he would be lucky if you had sex with him again before marriage.
Ten minutes later, on the dot, there was a knocking on your door. Your food had arrived. Blindly, you opened the door. Only instead of the take out you had delivered, Kyle stood there. Yet again soaked to the bone and this time out of breath.
"How did you know I was here?" Was the first thing that had come into your mind. If anything, he would have went by the shop first, but no. He came here. You weren't the type to deviate from a schedule, but christ. Simon at your date and then the club. John at the shop on your day off. Now this. "I swear to fucking god this fucking stalking-"
"Easy now, Love. No one's stalking you." Bullshit.
Absolute bullshit. They were military. Really important and special connections type of military, but this was bullshit. They were keeping tabs on you somehow.
"I know for a fucking fact that place is only ten minutes away. So you didn't have time to check out my store-- where I should be-- before coming here. So I'm going to ask you again, how did you know I was here?"
"Okay," he shrugged. "Stalking. We're stalking you." Kyle was lying. We he nodded like a bobblehead, you knew whatever was coming out of his mouth was bullshit. The first time you confirmed it was after Johnny had volunteered to make haggis. Kyle told him it was good, no doubt hoping to spare his feelings.
"Kyle." You warned, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. He paused as if trying to form another lie, but coming up short. Sighing in defeat, he confessed.
"Blocking us didn't stop you from sharing your location." In that moment, you could have strangled him. They had been still using your location. Something you had given them as a way to find you if you ever needed help. Now those assholes were using it for their own benefit.
"Son of a-" you shut your mouth. "I can't do this with you right now, okay?" You didn't confess that your publisher had asked for a last minute zoom call in the middle of your busiest work hour to see how you felt about doing a few meet and greets, all expenses paid.
Good news, but still... overwhelming. You still felt like an imposter. That you didn't deserve the hype you were getting. Your story wasn't that good. Your characters didn't hold much depth.
"Everything okay?" You didn't want to tell him. Didn't want to give him the chance to offer the reassurance you desperately needed for something he had no idea about.
"Why?" You asked, changing the subject. "I just want to know why? With John I get that the job gets stressful and needing someone to take-"
"No," he finished. "That's not an excuse. It's a reason. Not an excuse." His jaw clenched. "There is no excuse for how any of us treated you."
"Then what was your reason?" you asked. "I'm finding it very hard that someone who quite actively avoided me suddenly wants to get back together."
"I slacked off?" He shrugged. "I figured there were four of us and if I wasn't able to be there, it wouldn't make a difference."
"If you're just going to lie, Kyle, there is no point in continuing this conversation." You go to close the door only for his hand to stop you.
He stands there, looking at the ground. Even from the this angle you can see him take his bottom lip between his teeth.
He's nervous.
You step back. Giving him the option of coming in and saying it is whatever it is he needs to stay. He may be an ass like the rest of them, but this isn't exactly a conversation you want to have in the hallway for your nosey neighbors to hear.
He takes the silent invitation. Walking in and not speaking until you click the door shut. "You want the truth?" His voice is soft, but there is something else behind it. Anger?
"No," you say sardonically. "Please. Lie to me." He sighed, but didn't say anything. You were exhausted. The past few days had been a back-to-back rollercoaster of emotions. You were drained. You didn't have it in you for this right now. "Kyle-"
"I thought you only kept asking because you felt bad for me." He said the words so quickly, it took you a moment to process them. He thought.... you felt bad for him? "Like you were still trying to include me even if you didn't want to."
"Why?" Was the only thing you could come up with. You didn't have the energy to try to come up with your own reasoning for his admission.
"Don't think I don't know how I am compared to the them." He scoffed. You always knew the hierarchy of their work, even if you didn't know all the details. John was at the top. Captain and head bitch in charge. Simon was the lieutenant with Johnny and Kyle as Sergeants. Kyle was the youngest of the group by two years, but still. What was there to compare?
"So you're not a Captain or Lieutenant?" you shrug. "Johnny is the same rank as you. And you are the youngest and I'm sure with time you'll get to a position-"
"Black!" He said. "I'm black. I am the only fucking black guy not only in this relationship. I'm the only black guy in the 141, in the unit."
When it came to Kyle, black was the last thing you thought of. You thought of his soft brown eyes or house his hands felt so smooth against your body. How his smile could light up the room and how beautiful, how head-turning gorgeous he was. "I'm just an after thought in everything else regarding the 141, why would you be any different?"
"Ky," you were going to be sick. Was this how he really felt? With you? With the others? With work? "You know I don't feel that way, right?"
"Do you remember that time we went out? That french place?" How could you forget. The maître d' had asked Kyle to put a card on a tab before the two of you were even seated. At first you thought it was preposterous. Why would you make patrons at a fine dining restaurant do that? This wasn't a pub for Christ sakes. Kyle told you not to worry about it and handed over a card.
The two of you never went back.
"Oh my god." It dawned on you. "When they asked for your card..."
"I..." he sucked in a breath. Trying to keep his composure. "It was fucking humiliating. I was a man dressed to the fucking nines with a gorgeous girl on my arm and before I even got the chance to blow my money, I was treated like I couldn't afford it. It wasn't because of what I was wearing or who I was with. It was because of me. Of who I was. Who I am."
"Kyle," words escaped you. Nothing in that moment to reassure him that it never dawned on you. That it stupidly never dawned on you how there were times that people did look at him different. You wanted to tell him that it didn't matter. That you were just as important and lovable and respectable as the others. That you loved him just as much. Words failed you. All you could say say was, "I'm so sorry."
He swallowed, before taking in harsh breath through his nose. "It's not an excuse. I got wrapped up in my own stupid fucking head about how other people looked at me, I forgot it only mattered how you did."
"And you did." You said, aching to reach out. To touch him. Offer some comfort. Hating that he ever felt like he wasn't enough. Knowing the feeling all too well. Even if he was the one to make you feel it. "You did matter to me."
"I know." He said. You were thankful he said it clearly. Not shrugging his shoulders or nodding his head as he spoke. "I'll do anything to matter to you again." He took your hands in his, even though they had ached to hold you closer. But he knew not to test his luck. "If you want to press restart and let's take it back to the very beginning, I'll do that. I will court you and woo you and make you fall in love with me all over again because I will never fall out with you. I can't."
You weren't prepared for this. You had prepared to leave Kyle waiting in a restaurant alone. Now your heart ached in your chest at the idea of letting him ever think he wasn't enough because of the color of his skin.
"It doesn't have to be now or tomorrow or next week or next fucking month." He squeezed your hands the same way had John had. With the exact same intensity and promise. "Just let me try again. I won't let you down this time. I'll put in the work."
"I don't want you to feel like you have to work to make this relationship work, Kyle." You protest, wanting to pull your hands away. Free from the spell his touch had seem to be putting you under.
He smiled. Not enough to show off his teeth, but enough where have of his face lifted up. "It's not the type of work with long hours and a shit commute. Loving you is the same kind of work an artist puts into making a masterpiece. Pouring everything into it and getting something beautiful in return."
Before you could comprehend it, your face was wet. "Kyle." Your lips quivered, a sob threatening to come out. "I never felt like I needed to spend time with you, Ky." You sniffled. "I fucking wanted to. I missed you." You were so close. You needed to reel it in. Get it together.
"I just didn't understand how you could." His confession broke any restraint you had. Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to subdue your cries. When Kyle pulled you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you, you allowed yourself to crumble.
Not even for yourself, but for him.
For the kind heart you now knew broke with every sideways glance from passer-byes. For the hateful and prejudice world you lived in and for how they could overlook such a wonderful man just because of something as basic as the color of his skin.
You weren't sure how long you stood crying. You weren't certain if the knock on the door behind him actually happened or something your mind had conjured to try and pull you from your fit.
Eventually you did pull away from him. Your face covered in snot and tears. Seeing that you still were in need of it, Kyle pulled you back to him, only this time your face wasn't buried into his shirt.
You stood there. His arms wrapped around your back while yours found their home around his waist.
"I used to love when you would come back to my place directly from base as soon as you got back from a deployment." You said, breaking the silence. "I would be waiting like a kid on Christmas waiting to see what trinket made you think of me. You made me feel like even though we were so far away, you still thought about me."
"Always." He said, before his lips pressed against the top of your head. "Not a day I didn't miss being here with you."
The two of you eventually settled down on the couch. Both on opposite ends with a hot cup of tea in your hands and the array of take out containers half empty. You had planned for a night of eating your feelings so there was luckily enough food for two.
"I don't want to say no." You admitted. "But I need time. Before I even think about saying yes to all of this again."
"Not all of this," he reminded. "Just me. I'm doing my part in groveling, let the others figure it out. Or at least that's just what Price told us. Although you would be doing all of us a favor if you talked to Johnny?" Your ears perked up. You hadn't seen or heard from Johnny since Friday.
"What's wrong with Johnny?" You asked.
"Lad didn't cope well with you going on your date." Not that you had fucked him and said it was a mistake.... or maybe he kept that tidbit to himsle.f
"It wasn't a-" you started.
"I know," he said. "Simon happened to be nearby." You shot him a look, letting him know you weren't buying that lie, before he continued. "But he didn't. Fuck you're lucky we were able to drag him out of your apartment before you got back and he made an even bigger fool of himself."
"What are you talking about?" You asked. "What do you mean by drag?"
"Johnny called Simon. Told him you were on a date and to bring your ass back. Although you had made it a point to fuck him and leave-- absolutely no judgement, by the way-- he was going to make it a point to never leave your bed."
"My top sheet..." You had come home to your comforters and pillows on the floor. When making up your bed, the top sheet was missing. You had just assumed you didn't put it on or maybe it was in the wash.
"Refused to put his clothes back on. Me and John couldn't risk carrying a naked, screaming Scot through the streets without making a spectical. So we rolled him up and carried him of like a rug. A very heavy, squirmy rug."
"Oh," your hand flew to your chest. "Johnny." He was the bleeding heart of the group so you weren't exactly surprised. He was also the one who blew up shit, so he was definitely one for dramatics. "So that's how Simon figured out about dinner. But the drinks-"
"Whenever Simon is home, he's your shadow. The only time we don't worry about you is when we know he's with you." That made you roll your eyes.
"You act like he's my guard dog."
"He is."
"Is not." You defended, your conversation from Saturday night coming back to you.
"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.
"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be."
"He's not." you said again.
"You're right." Kyle relented, shrugging his fucking shoulders.
"You're saying that like you're just not trying to argue with me." He took a sip of your tea. "Kyle!" He sighed before looking at you as if the last thing he wanted to do was continue on the subject.
"He is." He said. "Your guard dog."
"I mean he protects me, but all of you do." He shakes his head, a huff of air going out of his nose, almost amused.
"Not like Simon." He admits it almost as if he were ashamed. "I want to say something." He said it as if he were preparing you for the next words to come out of his mouth would change the course of the night. "I need to say it because it would make me less of a man and even less of a friend if I didn't. But I don't want you to hate me or yourself for it."
Why would you hate yourself for it?
"Fine." you agreed, giving him permission to continue. "I won't hold it against you."
"You were always the one to coordinate things to do. One-on-one dates. Helping John with paperwork when shit got to crazy and you were the only one the uptight asshole would let touch his files." You gave a small smile remembering how John had barked at a recruit to get the fuck out of his office before peppering you with kisses at your arrival. Giving small pecks of appreciation as he explained what he needed you to do and how to do it.
"Helping me after my shoulder injury and staying on my ass about the physical therapy."
"Well someone had to." You countered.
"This past Christmas when Johnny needed to get his sisters gifts so you made a whole day out of it going to see lights and ice skating." Johnny was the proud owner of a freshly bruised tailbone after landing flat on his ass and swearing off skating for the rest of his life. Feckin' ice.
"Okay?" You asked, not really sure where Kyle was headed for this. He had pointed out what a good girlfriend you were, had been. How you had always tried to be helpful and do whatever needed to help your boys out.
He stopped. He looked at you as if he were debating to tell you what he had warned you about. He looked down at the floor before taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.
"Fuck." He muttered.
"Spit it out, Kyle!" You whined, now clueless to what point he was trying to make by all the examples of what a good girlfriend you had been.
He looked at you with the same solemness that a friend looked at another friend before having to call them out on their shit, knowing that the pill they were about to be given would be a hard one to swallow.
She hummed as she adjusted Soap’s equipment, checking all the clips and pockets for everything needed. “Alright, you’re good. Ghost?” she called. “Your turn.” The man didn’t even make a noise of complaint as he stood in front of her, letting her do the exact same thing to him; her expression soured and she griped, “Where’s your emergency coagulation powder?”
“Don’t have any, Doc,” he said, and she looked at him.
“Don’t have any, my ass. I gave you some last time.”
“I don’t get shot.”
Her eyes narrowed and she held out her hand to Soap, not bothering to watch as the Scot dug in her bag, then handed her a package. “Do you want your gold star for this mission or not?”
Ghost rolled his eyes as she tucked the pack into the empty pocket. “I’m coming for all the gold stars, Doctor Jekyll.”
She smiled and patted his cheek. “Of course, you are, sweetheart.” Turning, she gestured to Alejandro and Rudy. “Come here you two.”
They shared confused looks with one another, then to Ghost and Soap who nodded at them; Alejandro stepped up to her, watching as she flipped open his pockets, checked the contents, then snapped them back. “What are you doing?”
She blinked. “Checking to make sure you have all your safety and first aid gear.”
“Why?”
“You don’t get gold stars if you get hurt in the field.”
“Estrellas de oro?”
“Yep,” she nodded. “If you manage to stay in perfect health while in the field, you get a gold star. Ghost?” she gestured behind her, and he removed the metal plate from his vest, showing rows upon rows of golden stars. “If you do get injured, you don’t get a gold star. However, if you use your first aid and show me when you get back, you get a silver star. Soap?” The Scot lifted his metal plate, silver stars lining his with the occasional gold; he glowered at the full rows of golden stars on Ghost’s plate, the Brit smirking beneath his mask, knowing Soap was jealous.
Alejandro’s brows knit in confusion. “And what happens if you don’t do either?”
Ghost and Soap immediately made the “NO!” gesture to their necks and she smiled at him, but it was anything but pleasant as she replied sweetly, “Then you meet my counterpart, Missus Hyde, and I’ll make your wounds worse before I make them better.” She tugged his vest hard until he was nose to nose with her and warned darkly, “Don’t meet, Missus Hyde, Colonel Vargas. She isn’t a good woman.”
Letting him go, she turned to Rudy. “Come here, dearie, time to check your pack.”
As she checked his pack, Alejandro stepped over to the two men and asked, “Have you ever met, Missus Hyde?”
Ghost did something he never expected the battle-hardened man to do; he shivered. “One time only. I never want to meet her again.”
Soap nodded in agreement, worrying, “I’ll never not see those eyes in my nightmares when I didn’t do what she told me in Baghdad.” He looked at Ghost. “Do you remember how she swung those tools around? I never knew she was that strong,” he whispered.
Alejandro’s eyes had widened like saucers, turning to stare at the doctor who’d tagged along with Soap and Ghost. So sweet and kind. There was no way she acted like that if they didn’t listen…
This man is so eager to hold his child for the first time, he almost doesn't wait for the nurses to clean him off first. So what if his son is covered in all sorts of blood and gunk? John has dealt with a lot worse before, trust him
So when he has to wait for the little one to be cleaned and then weighed and then dressed first, John almost steams from his ears he's so frustrated
Oh but the moment his child is finally placed in his arms, he just absolutely melts. Goes from a menacing grizzly bear to a harmless stuffed plushie in two seconds flat
With one hand supporting his bottom and the other curving along his back, John gently holds his son for the very first time. As he looks at the boy in his arms – his eyes, his lips, his little button nose – John feels a tickle behind his eyes, and he's quick to blink the tears away before they can form
He sniffs back his emotions and caresses the top of your son's head. “Hairy little bloke, ain't he?” he jokes, referring to the full head of hair the tyke's already been blessed with
Well, what does he expect when he has a werewolf for a father? Your jest gets John to chuckle lowly, muttering to the boy, “Just like your daddy, eh?”
He places the baby against the crook of his neck and softly pats him on the back, bouncing up and down ever so slightly. And when his son lets out a great big burp, John and you share a laugh. “Yeah, just like your daddy.”
Ghost
One thing Simon prides himself on is his sense of humility – knowing when his services are needed and when they aren't. In this instance, as the nurses flit around with his son, he knows it's the latter situation, so he waits patiently off to the side as he lets them work
Though he's sidelined, Simon watches like a hawk as his little boy moves about the room. Every hand-off, every measurement taken, it's all done under the careful eye of his father
But despite how cool he may appear on the outside, inside his heart is pounding, and that only increases as a nurse finally approaches him with his child in her hands
Simon goes to take the baby from her, stretching his arms out, but before the transfer is made, he remembers something. Quickly, he reaches up and strips the cloth mask from his face. He knows the little one doesn't have good eyesight yet, but first impressions and all that, right?
With the utmost caution, Simon takes his son into his arms, putting him in the crook of his elbow like a rugby player holding a ball. He feels like a giant as he holds the tiny boy against him. Like an ant compared to an elephant, he thinks to himself
Despite his size though, Simon is so delicate with his son, treating him like he's made of glass. He tucks him more firmly against his chest, and as the little one naturally snuggles closer, Simon can't help the smile it brings to his face
Rocking back and forth slightly, Simon tries to lull the boy to sleep. Unfortunately, his little cheek rubbing against Simon's chest has the opposite effect, and he begins to mouth at his pec, having accidentally triggered his rooting reflex
“Oh, he's…,” Simon mutters awkwardly, realizing what he's just done. He hears you giggle from your spot on your bed, and that makes him chuckle to himself. “Think he's hungry,” he says before handing the baby over to you
Gaz
From the moment Kyle laid eyes on his son, it was love at first sight. Even though he was filthy, wrinkly, and had a conehead to end all coneheads, Kyle was immediately smitten with the boy the moment he first saw him
He carefully trails after the nurses as they go about cleaning him/taking his measurements, not wanting to get in the way but wanting to stay close
Despite his watchfulness, however, when his son is finally offered to him, Kyle immediately freezes. His arms feel like they're locked down by his sides, like there's some kind of invisible force preventing him from reaching out and taking him
Though he's been preparing for this moment for months, when it's finally time to do it, he finds that he's scared. Scared to hurt him, to drop him, to do something wrong. He has to take a deep breath as he plucks up the courage, then has the nurse hand over his son
And the second the boy is placed in Kyle's arms, the tears he hadn't managed to shed during the delivery start streaming anew. “H-Hi, baby. Hi,” Kyle sobs, masterfully holding his son in one hand as he uses the other to wipe his tears away. “I'm your daddy.”
Though there's still a flurry of activity going on around them, it's like time seems to slow as Kyle admires the little boy in his arms. He leans in to press a soft kiss to the top of his son's head, holding his lips there as he inhales that sweet scent emanating from him
When he finally pulls back, he brushes another tear away, flashing a bright smile as he chuckles wetly to himself. Yep, he's in love alright. Truly, deeply in love
Soap
Johnny feels sluggish as he slowly wakes back up. It takes some effort for him to peel his eyes open, and when he does, he then groggily takes in his surroundings
He's slumped in some stiff hospital chair. Why? Oh, wait. He thinks he remembers. He was here to watch the birth of his first child, but the last thing he remembers was seeing a whole lot of red, and then everything went black
Johnny looks around the room for a moment until he realizes you're sitting in the bed across from him. He stands with a grunt, rubbing his forehead as he walks over to you. “What'd I miss?” he asks as approaches your bed
He notices something in your arms, but it's not until he gets close that he realizes what exactly. That isn't just any little bundle in your arms. That's your son you're holding
He finds he's frozen to his spot as you answer his question. Other than the birth? Not much. Just the first feeding… and the first burping… and the first swaddling
Johnny's lip threatens to tremble as he listens to you list off all the things he missed because he'd passed out. But when you ask in he wants to hold his son, all that sorrow immediately vanishes
Now, Johnny's held a lot of babies in his years (it comes with being part of the MacTavish clan), but there's something different this time as you pass the little boy to him. As Johnny looks at the baby in his arms – his baby – he realizes this is the most perfect, most beautiful, most amazing, angelic, awe-inspiringly wonderful–
There's the sound of a small whine followed quickly by a loud squish, and suddenly, the bum cradled in his hands feels about 2x heavier. The realization hits you before it does Johnny, and you can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you
Congrats, daddy-o! Looks like he woke up just in time for the first nappy change
Genius soap x Bimbo reader where Johnny invites the guys out for a beer/a drink at the bar and he brings Bimbo!reader cause he wants to introduce her. He wants to propose and this is his found family so if they approve then she’s definitely they one…right?
they all are like “Johnny…mate…you could do so much better! She’s dumber than a bag of rocks!”
:)
no but this actually made me so sad :( I love it
c/w: more angst for you, (spoiler) break-up
you were so excited to meet his mates too, dressing up all pretty just to go the pub. chatting johnny’s ear off about how you hope they like you :(
he expected them to love you just as much as he loves you. thought they’d love your sweet smile and naive nature. imagine his disappointment when they immediately start dogging you out when you prance off to the ladies room to touch up your makeup
“c’mon, johnny. this has gotta be a joke.” simon scoffed, taking a sip of his bourbon
“whaddya mean?” johnny asks, shocked by his words
“she’s a lovely girl…” price says, “but she’s not the brightest, eh?”
“well, no but-“
“never heard someone yap so much and yet say so little.” kyle cuts soap off, making all the lads at the table laugh. except johnny, who just frowns and looks down at the table
the laughter stops when you come back to the table, linking your arm with soap’s who shrugs it off and clears his throat, “we’re gonna head off, lads. nice seeing ye.”
the car ride home was quiet, at least on johnny’s part. you were talking his ear off about how nice you thought his friends were and how you’d like to hang out with them again. soap just gave you a forced smile and nod every few seconds until he pulls up outside your house
confused you turn to look at him, “I thought we were staying at yours, baby.”
johnny gulps before turning to you, a frown pulling at his lips. “listen, bonnie. I think… I think we should stop seeing each other.”
the look of devastation that flashed across your face was enough of make him look away, making him feel like a coward, “what- I don’t- I don’t understand.”
johnny can almost hear the way your lip quivers as you speak and it takes everything in him not to take it back but he stands firm, “I’m sorry, hen. It’s just… I need to be with someone more like me. ye understand, yeah?”
“oh.” you say, looking down at your lap. tears begin slipping down your cheeks and you instantly wipe them away, “I understand.”
he feels like the biggest piece of shit in the world when you mumble that last bit. even though you’re not the brightest, you know what he’s getting at. he’s saying that you’re not smart enough to be with him
“I’ll, uh… I’ll drop yer stuff off in a couple of days. I’m sorry…” he says, finally building up the courage to look at you again. you give him a wobbly smile, more tears threatening to spill over. you don’t trust yourself to speak so you just nod your head before grabbing your purse and climbing out of his car
he watches you walk up to your door. he can’t see your face but judging by the way your shoulders shake and the way your hands come up to wipe at your cheeks, he knows your burst out into tears the second you got out of his car
he lets out a heavy sigh before pulling out of your drive, the sweet smell of your perfume still lingering in the air as he drives home with a heavy heart
Oh my gosh. I just found this website that walks you though creating a believable society. It breaks each facet down into individual questions and makes it so simple! It seems really helpful for worldbuilding!
Heads up that this is a very extensive questionnaire and might be daunting to a lot of writers (myself included). That being said, it is also an amazing questionnaire and I will definitely be using it (or at the very least, some of it).
Don't you mean classist Typo, as in discriminating against poor people, and not classicist, the type of academic who studies antiquity in southern Europe?
Warnings: Fluff <3, Cosy Headcanons, Simon Being a Hypothetical Animal Crossing Enthusiast, Jealous! Simon :3, Simon Being the Best Boyfriend, Spoilers for Simon’s Backstory, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.
He’s secretly enamoured with the way you’ll gently pluck a fallen eyelash from his face and tell him to make a wish on it. The first time it happened, you had to explain to him what this odd ritual meant, what it entailed. You shushed him before he tried to make his wish out loud, telling him with haste that it won’t come true if he told you what it was. When he blew the eyelash from your fingertip, all he could do was look at you and think: ‘but it already came true’.
Though it initially worried him, he loves that you go to sleep late — especially when he finds you zonked out on the sofa, TV on, remnants of your midnight snack escapade scattered across the coffee table. It means he has an excuse to pick you up and bring you to bed, holding you close to him all the while. Most nights, he just stares at you, watching you, wondering how he got so lucky to even have someone exist in the same house with, never mind you.
Nobody likes arguments — especially Simon. Having grown up in an abusive household, they were commonplace in some form or another. But, when he argues with you, he knows that it can easily be fixed. Especially if it’s over something minimal like laundry or cleaning — it gives him the excuse to seek you out and utilise his ultimate love languages: gift-giving and physical touch. Sure, he’ll give you a quiet, verbal apology, too, but his efforts shine through in the way he opens himself up to you, pulling you into a warm hug and not letting you go for as long as you’ll let him.
He loves the nicknames you give him: especially the funny ones. You’ve called him Semen Demon before now — completely unprompted. He couldn’t help but give a deep chuckle, saying “What are you like,” before turning back to what he was doing. This worked a competition between the two of you to see who could create the most cursed nickname for the other.
It’s still going on ‘til this day.
He lives for the inside jokes the two of you have, like a dialect only you know. It makes him feel like he’s truly part of something… normal. Sure, he has the 141, by they are bound in the blood of their profession, not by the sanctity of love. Not the kind of love you two have. He loves it even more when everyone else looks confused when you mark a reference onto you two understand; it makes him feel like you’re talking to him and only him. For the first time, he feels like someone sees him.
He loves when you listen to his music suggestions. It makes him feel like his opinion matters — like what he says matters.
He loves the music you listen to, too. Not even because he likes the songs themselves, but because he knows, somewhere between their instruments and vocals, you have found enjoyment, like a coveted treasure. And that's what brings him enjoyment when listening to them.
Simon’s always been a light sleeper. A trick he learned in childhood. So when you prod him awake to spill your thoughts to him, he’s immediately all ears. And he loves everything you say, no matter how banal or nonsensical. Even when you tell him your worries, his heart swells with the fact that you trust him enough with your perils. That you think, even for a second, that maybe he can fix them.
And he would. Before time can catch him, he’ll do whatever it takes to ease your worries, to destroy them.
He loves that he gets to show you off to the 141 — like a child with an arts and crafts project. He’s a secretive man, but he won’t hesitate to make light of the fact that his partner is absolutely stunning, intelligent, hilarious, loyal, understanding—
You see where this is going.
He even loves how jealous they all look when they see you wearing one of his shirts in all your unfiltered glory, wishing them a good night while you bid Simon his own – a special one. A kiss. Just on the forehead. But a kiss all the same.
He’s dazed for the rest of the evening, trying to hurry his friends uut the door so he can come to bed and see you.
Lazy morning cuddles !!!!!
He’s recently gotten into video games because of you, too.
Secretly a big fan of Animal Crossing.
He absolutely would have been one of those people to try and buy Raymond from
anyone willing to sell him back in 2020 .
Likes any games that are life simulators. Simple ones — free of life’s stresses.
Loves Harvest Moon. And the Sims (Sims 2 is his favourite).
Although, when he found out you can romance other characters, he felt a bit bad because he felt like it would be cheating on you. Until he found out that you were already leading many a double life on those same games. The moment he found out you’d been romancing a collection of pixels and shapes, he picked you up, slung you over his shoulder and dragged you to the bedroom to “Teach you a lesson.”
All in all, domestic life with you is better than anything Simon could have hoped for. So long as you’re with him, he’s living a life he’s only ever dreamt of. And so help the person who tries to wake him.
Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)
Masterlist
Masterlist [Continued]
Masterpost
Modern Warfare AI Masterlist
I get that exercising is good for the body, the mental health bla bla bla. And yes I do find it refreshing and invigorating and the burn in my thighs and abs feels wonderful.
But I also positively loathe sweating. It is the bane of my existence. Hate it with a passion. Absolutely disgusting. Bleh. -10/10 experience.
Thank you for the tag, my wonderful @tessabennet! <3
Favorite color: Yellow! 💛 (To wear, it’s black tho)
Currently reading: The Bear and the Nightengale by Katherine Arden–a very good Russian folklore inspired fantasy, I would recommend!
Last song: Seize the Day from Newsies. I needed a pick me up ;)
Last series: Oh gosh, it’s been a while! But I’m looking forward to starting good omens season one, I just gotta get my ducks in a row and an Amazon account…
Last movie: My sister made me watch Set It Up
Sweet/savory/spicy: Savory or spicy 🌶
Currently working on: I finished my first draft of a fic today, so it’s time to edit, baby! Also working on like fifty other WIPs, also unpacking into my house, dealing with family troubles, and working on having a chill (ha) summer to read books…
No pressure tags for @turtle-steverogers @smfstump @t4tstevebucky @astralesha @cvptainbucky @emmedoesntdomath @noxexistant @booksandabeer @into-a-ship-or-2 <3
There’s a groupchat called ‘Where’s the Old Man?’. This groupchat is dedicated to keeping track of Price so soldiers don’t accidentally run into him when they’re doing something he would yell at them for. The groupchat also warns everyone where Ghost and Gaz are. Ghost because if he doesn’t find what the soldiers are doing funny he’ll snitch, and Gaz because sometimes he exposes them without the intention of getting them in trouble.
Soap has recently managed to get access to the groupchat he’s not sure if he’s insulted or not that no one bothers keeping track of him because they’re not worried about him snitching.
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