“Sweetheart” you hear Simon’s soft voice. You let out a little groan. “Mmmmnnnnh” Simon chuckles and you feel the mattress dip with his weight. “Wakey wakey, Princess, I have a present for you.” You open one eye to look at him. He is leaning over you, smiling. “Good morning”. You let out another small groan, mornings were never your thing.
Ghost leans back, reaching behind him. “Do you want your present?” You turn your head and open your other eye. He just laughs, you’re so cute and grumpy in the mornings. “I’ll take that as a yes.” When his hand comes back into view he is holding a drink from your favorite cafe. You smile, turning and sitting up to take a drink. The flavors hit your tongue and you let out a happy hum, doing a little wiggle.
Ghost smiles as he watches you. “You want the rest of your present?”
You nod, already knowing that it is a croissant from said cafe.
Ghost sits next to you on the bed, bringing up a small bag. He holds it out for you. When you reach out to grab it, he moves it away. “Ah ah, kiss tax.”
You roll your eyes, and lean over giving him a quick peck on the lips. His smile grows “Thank you” he places the bag onto your lap.
You give him a peck on the cheek now, “Good morning and thank you handsome”. You pull out the croissant and munch down.
“After you eat, I have more presents for you.” He offers. Simon does get you presents often. They always range from small things like a treat from your favorite bakery to larger things like that crazy limited-edition dress from one of your favorite movies.
You finish up eating and Simon takes your trash. “Stay here for now. I’ll come get you when it is ready.” He disappears from the room for a little bit. You decide to get up and do your morning routine. As you are exiting the bathroom, the bedroom door opens and he walks into the room again. “Alright, come on.” He holds his hand out. You walk up to him, immediately putting your hand into his.
Oh my gods. When you exit the bedroom, looking into the living room and kitchen you are greeted with a wild sight. There are balloons everywhere. On the kitchen counter are multiple giant bags and a beautiful bouquet featuring your favorite flower. “Go sit on the couch.” Simon instructs you before heading into the kitchen to grab some of the bags.
You sit on the couch as he brings over the bags. He sets them down in front of you. “Happy International Women’s Day.”
In the bags were some of your favorite snacks and goodies; a nice dress; a purse you had been wanting and a new bag for your laptop. You lean over hugging him and giving him a kiss. “Thank you, Si.”
Ghost smiles brightly. “Anything for you, Sweetheart.” He leans in, placing a soft kiss on your lips. You giggle against his lips.
You spend the day hanging out at home. Watching your favorite shows, enjoying the snacks and new tea Simon had bought for you. In the evening, he tells you to put on your new dress for dinner. He takes you out to the fancy restaurant that opened last month. It is beautiful and classy.
As he is placing a spoonful of food into your mouth he leans in and whispers into your ear. “Can’t wait to get home and taste you”. Causing you to almost choke on the bite. He spends the rest of dinner whispering dirty promises of what is to come into your ear.
Scrapper, Harvey decides, watching the boy from behind his sunglasses. From Harvey's bench to the square of blanket on the grass, he can't hear what words are being said between the two people sitting in the sun, but he can see details of their bodies and gestures. The one with long hair seems relaxed and elegant, polished. Alistair would like them. But they're not Harvey's type.
No, he's got his eye on the other one. Hunched up, glaring around him, probably keeping Harvey in the corner of his eye as much as Harvey is keeping him in view. He has the sharp edges of someone hardened against the world. He knows how to turn a softed side to his companion, but Harvey sees through that. He holds himself like he's expecting a knife to come out at any second.
The crutches could be something else, but Harvey would bet his wallet that it was chronic pain from previous injuries. There was a certain protective tension, even when he was sitting down, that seemed barely conscious. New to the crutches, maybe, but not to the hurt.
Scrapper could take pain, and had taken pain. And if Harvey could just separate him from his partner, he would take a lot more.
Johnny Mundo and Prince Puma get caught making out despite “not being together”.
This is my first venture into a new fandom, and also a prompt that I really really loved, and that combination means I’m super nervous about posting it! I also have no idea how to tag it! I’m just kind of gonna... drop it and run? Sometime in mid-Season 1:
It’s getting crowded in the locker room as the roster grows; especially at times like this, when half of them are trying to work out at once, everyone is on top of each other and in each other’s space. So it’s not really a surprise, the first time Johnny turns around to swap out dumbbells, that he about trips over Puma leaving the squat rack.
It’s a little more surprising, five minutes later, when Puma backs straight into him as he’s looking for an empty space to do some shrugs in. And fifteen minutes after that, the crowd gradually thinning out, when they both go for the same bench at the same time.
By the time the locker room is empty except for the two of them, and Puma is still somehow underfoot at every turn, he’s starting to feel slightly persecuted. Like he’s not distracting enough, he grouses silently to himself, then shakes his head, backs off as far as he can and sits down on the furthest bench to do concentration curls.
And looks up to find Puma on the pull-up bar barely two feet away.
“Okay, what?” he demands, unable to stop himself. “Are we playing a game? Is this a dominance thing?”
No answer. Of course. He doesn’t know what he was expecting.
“It’s my magnetic personality, right?You just want to be near me?”
Still no answer, but this time Puma stops what he’s doing, drops down from the bar and turns to face him.
This is stupid, a warning voice in his head notes, but he ignores it, grins tightly and goes on, “Or are you putting on a show for me?”
Puma takes a step closer, and Johnny finds his gaze drifting down over Puma’s body, lingering on the curve of his triceps, the sheen of sweat on his inked chest. Be Fearless.
Well, what the hell, he thinks, reaches up with his free hand, grabs Puma by the waist and pulls him down into his lap.
It’d be easy enough to play off as a joke, a kind of game of chicken, just the continuation of… whatever weird dominance game this is they’ve been playing. He half expects to get decked for his trouble, and fully expects Puma to shove away from him, jump back up and leave. And he’s not surprised – Puma throws his right hand up as he’s pulled off-balance, plants his palm flat against Johnny’s chest, and he can feel the tension coiled in the arm behind it, ready to push him back.
And then he is surprised, because Puma… doesn’t move.
Johnny looks down at the hand resting on his chest, studies it for a second, then shifts his gaze up to Puma’s face and feels his mouth go dry. Puma is staring down at him, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, and it’s not always easy to read his face under the mask, but – whatever else he might be thinking, he hasn’t pulled away.
Very carefully, very slowly, Johnny lets the dumbbell roll down his fingers to rest on the floor, straightens up, bringing his right hand up between their entwined legs to rest loosely on his own thigh. “I’m pretty sure everyone’s gone but us,” he says; in the silence of the empty locker room, it comes out louder than he meant it to, and he and Puma both start a little. He wets his lips and tries again, a little lower, “If I’m reading this wrong, tell me. But if I’m not, we’re not gonna get a better chance.”
A long moment passes, and then Puma nods, leans in toward him; Johnny grins, slides his hand around to the small of Puma’s back, and pulls him the rest of the way in until their lips meet.
Puma kisses him softly, even a little cautiously at first; then he shifts his weight in Johnny’s lap, seems to find his angle, and the kiss turns fierce, hungry, so forceful that it’s an effort for Johnny not to tip backward right off the bench. He rallies, though, recovers his balance and returns the kiss with equal ferocity, lifting his right hand to Puma’s hip and gripping him hard. In return Puma shifts his hand, too, slides it up Johnny’s shoulder and around to the nape of his neck to tangle in his hair; his grip is light, but steady, and Johnny goes along willingly as Puma tilts his head back, breaks the kiss and mouths his way down Johnny’s jawline to nip at the pulse point there. Johnny swallows a groan, reluctant to break the near-silence of the room; the only sound is Puma breathing hard against his throat, his own harsh panting–
– the click and squeak of the locker room door opening.
By the time he’s processed the sound, Puma’s already springing to his feet, launching himself full-force off Johnny’s shoulders to do it; Johnny isn’t expecting the shove, and this time he does go over backward, and takes the bench down with him. He glances toward the door as he’s trying to disentangle his legs from it, and barely holds back a curse – it’s Cueto standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised as his gaze flicks from Johnny up to Puma and back again, all three of them frozen in place as the moment stretches on. He can’t have seen much, Puma’s fast reaction saw to that, but…
“Please,” Cueto says at last, raising his hands palms-out toward them, “don’t let me interrupt.”
Johnny throws a quick glance at Puma, gets only an infinitesimal shrug in return. He turns his focus back to Cueto and, as casually as he can manage, starts, “Uh, you’re not–”
“No, no,” the boss cuts him off, “please – finish your, ah, workout. I’m locking up for the night, but security will be here to let you out.” He’s backing out the door as he says it, and for a moment Johnny thinks that maybe he really didn’t see anything, that the suspicious little pause before workout was his imagination.
Then Cueto flashes a sharp grin, just before the door closes on him, and adds, “It’s good to see my fighters becoming such good friends.”
Epilogue: later, in another part of the temple…
“So,” Dario says, looking out the window of his office, his back to the fighter at his desk. “You want a shot at my championship.”
In the reflection, he can see Cage jut his chin forward, all arrogance. “I’ve been saying so since the day I walked in here.”
“And you’ve certainly been working hard for it.” Dario stares out the window a little longer, drums his fingers on the sill, makes him wait for it. Then he turns, flashes a smile, and says, “It’s yours. Next week.”
Cage hasn’t been at the temple long, but clearly he’s learning; Dario has to stifle a laugh at the instant change in his face, from cocky pride to suspicion. “What’s the catch?”
“Please, nothing like that. There is one little condition, but it’s nothing – something I think you’ll be happy to do for me.” Dario reaches for a glass, pours, holds it out to Cage; when the big man shakes his head, he shrugs and takes a sip himself. He lets a slow, predatory smile spread across his face and goes on, “Make it painful.”
Cage looks as if he wants to laugh. “That’s it?”
“You know I am a man who loves violence. But from this match, I want more. I want brutality. I want cruelty.” Dario gives a little shrug, takes another sip of his drink. “Not such a terrible catch, is it?”
Cage grins, and Dario recognizes the light in his eyes, the thirst for blood. “Consider it done.”
Later, after he’s seen Cage out, he stands at the window again, looking out at his temple and imagining the next week’s scene. One hand drifts unconsciously up to his face; he brushes his fingertips across the ghost of a bruise on his cheek, and smiles.
You had been sick with a severe cold for two days. Taking medicine and trying to just be normal at work. But nothing you do seems to work.
Ghost finds you in the bathroom, sitting on the floor drinking tea while the shower runs blazing hot. Steam fills the entire bathroom, fogging the mirrors. Instead of the usual lights on, you have one of those galaxy projectors. Purple and red clouds cascade across the ceiling. You look so tired, sitting there on your phone and sipping on your tea.
“Love?” Ghost speaks gently. “Didn’t feel like showering?”
You slowly turn your head to look up at him. He is right. You didn't want to have to get undressed, get into the shower and sit there, wet. You also didn’t want to try to squeeze into the small bathtub in your apartment. It wouldn’t feel full enough anyways. You’re sick and tired. Anything that isn’t sitting down makes you more tired and dizzy.
“Too much work” You manage to croak out despite your sore throat.
Simon nods “Yeah, do you want me to help you into the shower?"
You don’t even have to think about it. You slowly shake your head no. “Don’t wanna be wet”
He sits on the floor next to you. He knows you have had a headache for days, so he doesn’t say anything else. You two just sit there for you don’t know how long. Eventually Simon turns off the shower and carries you to bed. Maybe you’ll feel better tomorrow.
Did I write this while on my bathroom floor? In this exact scenario? Yes, yes I did. (minus Ghost unfortunately)
Also, just learned how to do colors on here. Thank you again for reading my teeny tiny fics. I have a bigger one (more like 11) in the works. Just debating on asking my best friend to be my beta reader or straight sending it. Only time will tell.
Soap and Gaz are giddy about finally getting to meet you. The person who can tame Ghost with a simple call. The one with Ghost’s heart in the palm of their hands. Soap is balancing pizza’s in his hands. Gaz is carrying the drinks.
Ghost unlocks and opens the door. The boys are greeted with a loud voice sing-yelling along to a song. You are standing on the couch sing-yelling along to a musical. Ghost rushes to the couch and catches you right as you fall off.
“Hey, Darling”
Your giggle and smile up at Ghost “Hey, Dummy”
Ghost shakes his head “You always go too hard to that song.” There are many times where he has caught you from falling off the couch and many times where he has not. Yet, you never learn.
You giggle again. “I can’t help it. It’s such a good song”
He rests his forehead against yours. “I already banned you from listening to it in the shower. Do I have to ban you from listening to it in the living room too?”
You gasp out “You wouldn't dare.”
Soap clears his throat.
Shit. Ghost had forgotten they were behind him. He turns around with you in his arms, then gently places you down.
You smile walking up to Soap and Gaz. “Hi, nice to meet you. I'm y/n.” You reach out to take the pizzas from Soap.
“No.” Ghost slaps your hand away, taking the pizzas himself and walking into the kitchen with them.
“I can help” You yell after him
“No, and don't even think about taking those sodas.” He yells back
Gaz gives you a nod before following Ghost
“You must be Johnny” you hold out your hand
Soap shakes your hand “Aye that’ll be me”
“And Gaz” You turn to Gaz and Ghost returning from the kitchen
“Yes. Nice to meet you” Gaz holds out his hand and you shake it.
Soap walks over to Ghost and slings an arm around his shoulder “Aye Lad, you been talking bout us?”
You laugh a little, “It’s not that hard.” You gesture to Soap “You have a mohawk, so you’re obviously Johnny.” You gesture to Gaz “And he doesn’t look like father time, so he isn’t Price, He must be Gaz.”
Gaz and Soap share a look before quickly falling into a fit of laughter.
“FATHER TIME?!” Soap bellows
You glance at Ghost, confused “Yeah, father time. Si says your captain is old like father time.”
Gaz is practically dying with laughter, bent over, crying, breathless.
“He is barely older than Ghost.” Soap gasps out through his laughter, “By like five years”
You turn to Ghost “He is ONLY FOURTY?! YOU SPEAK LIKE HE IS SEVENTY!!”
Ghost shrugs “Might as well be”
You shake your head “You’re incorrigible."
A/N: As always thank you for reading my fics and putting up with my terrible spelling/grammar. More nothing burgers, to release them from my skull.
I love the idea (Idk if it is actual cannon) that Price is literally only a few years older than Price. I also love the idea of them all calling Price dad to fuck with him.
I originally wrote this as a continuation of this. But I then decided to separate them.
It was the first day in a week you had finally fully felt like a person. The last traces of your sickness still lingering in your body. The cough and runny nose are still present. But the fatigue, sinus pressure, all the other aches and shit were gone.
You were sitting on your couch, bundled up, watching t.v. The sound of your front door unlocking and opening catches your attention. When you turn your head to look you see your boyfriend, Simon, entering the apartment holding a small paper bag.
“Hey Love, how ye feelin’?" Simon calls out
“Better, more like a person today.”
Simon takes off his shoes. “That’s good to hear. I hate when you’re sick.” He walks up to you on the couch. “Brought you a little gift.” He leans down and kisses the top of your head.
You smile up at him doing a little happy wiggle. Every single day he has surprised you with little things to make you feel better. “A present?”
Simon nods “Yeah, just stay here and I’ll bring it to you.”
Easy Peasy. “Okay”
He disappears into the kitchen for about 5 minutes then reemerges; plopping down onto the sofa next to you. He pulls your legs into his lap “Give the oven some time to heat up and I’ll make your surprise.”
When you do another little wiggle he feels his heart melt.
Thirty minutes later the apartment smells delicious and Simon is walking out of the kitchen carrying a plate and two cups. You sit up a little more ready to receive whatever he is about to gift you. He places the plate in your lap and you see what that familiar smell is; it’s Halloween cookies. The gesture fills you with joy. Halloween is your favorite holiday and anything Halloween brings you joy. You reach over and squeeze him into a hug. “Thank you, Si!”
“Anything for you love. Figured they would perk you up.” He says into your neck, trying to not spill the drinks.
You pull away still beaming “How did you even find these? They are a Halloween exclusive! It’s March.”
He laughs and sits down with your beverages. “I bought a bunch at Halloween time and stocked my freezer.”
You scoff. “No you didn’t. I haven't seen them in your freezer.”
Simon just shrugs back at you playfully. “I dunno then, Love.”
You squint your eyes at him. You can tell he is being a little shit and won't tell you where he got them from. Hmm You decide to ignore it and just enjoy the treat. And enjoy the cookies you do, snuggled into Simon’s side while watching shitty television.
A/N: As always, thank you for reading my fic <3 I feel my spelling and grammar wasn’t as terrible in this one. I hope you enjoy this teeny nothing burger <3
This was based on the fact that I am finally feeling better. Woo! And I am right now watching Hell’s Kitchen and baking those prepackaged Halloween themed cookies to perk myself up. Yes they are expired. No I don't care.
Reader identifies as a woman, thus Johnny calls reader "lassie".
Simon and the guys were sitting around the breakroom passing the time.
Gaz and Soap, sitting on the couch both respond “Superman”
Simon smirks under his mask before giving his answer from his spot at the table. “Batman”
“Batman?! That’s s-” Soap is cut off by the ringing of Ghost’s phone.
Ghost holds up a finger and answers it “Hi, Darling.”
“Hey, Dummy, you busy?”
Ghost drops his finger “No, Darling. Just with the guys talking about who the best superhero is.”
“Ahhh, what did you say?”
Ghost’s mask moves as his smirk grows, already knowing what is coming “Batman”
“That’s no-. You’re so-. I-. How ca-. You-” You growl out, not finishing a sentence. You hang up in frustration.
Ghost just laughs and brings his phone away from his ear.
“Aye, who does your-” Soap is again cut off by Ghost’s phone ringing
“Yes, Love?”
“You’re just saying that to upset me hunh?”
He chuckles and then replies “Yes, Love.”
You make a hum of distrust
Simon just shakes his head and chuckles “We all know Spiderman is the best.”
Soap rolls his eyes.
Gaz gives Soap a confused look.
Soap whispers “His lassie, fire cracker that one is.” Gaz nods, having gotten his answer.
As Ghost pockets his phone Soap asks “So when do we get to meet the lass anyways?”
A/N: As always thank you for reading my fics and putting up with my terrible spelling/grammar. This is an absolute nothing burger, but I have to get these little ideas out of my head so I don't go crazy. Sorry if your favorite superhero isn't Spiderman. Reader is just me
I was watching Bob’s Burgers and seeing Linda attempt to help Gayle w/ eyedrops reminded me of how I act w/ getting eye drops. So, if you’re like me, here is Ghost helping you with eyedrops.
CW: things that are needed to put eyedrops into a weirdo's eyes/ holding them down/ holding eyes open/ putting drops in eyes.
You have always struggled with eye drops. Maybe your body’s defense system is just THAT good. So when your allergies act up, causing your eyes to be dry you would always suffer. To try to suffer through putting in drops or not to suffer through putting in drops. THAT is the question. Now mentally you knew your eyes would be fine. You KNEW you were trying to administer the eye drops yourself. So WHY would your eyes refuse to cooperate? Didn’t they know you were trying to help? Didn’t they know you were trying to help them not be all dry and irritated?? Like hello brain, tell eyes they will be fine!! Since your eyes decide to do their own thing, you have to ask your boyfriend for help.
And now Ghost is straddling you on the living room floor, your arms pinned to your sides by his legs. He is gently holding your head with one hand, stroking the top of your head with his thumb. “You ready?”
“Ready” you reply. You’re not nervous or afraid of getting drops in your eyes. Your eyes simply refuse to cooperate with you.
Ghost moves the hand that is holding your head to hold open one of your eyes. Your eye immediately starts trying to close against his fingers, twitching rapidly. He can't help but to chuckle. “Unruly little fella, aye”. Ghost squeezes the small bottle between his fingers, swiftly placing a few drops into your eye and releases your lids. “Better?”
Your eye continues to twitch and blink rapidly at its perceived offensive intrusion. Once your eye finish freaking out, you manage a few slow blinks. “Yeah, all better. Thanks Hun.”
Ghost smiles down at you “No problem, Love. Ready for round two?”
Hi if you are reading this. Thank you for reading my first ever attempt at fanfic. If you can even call this fanfic?? Idk. Anyways, thank you for reading. <3
