I Mean Yeah

Me when my sister turns on the light first thing in the morning

Sweet Cherry Pie-Part 1

Johnny Davis x OC Cherry 

Summary: Newcomers have arrived to party with the Vandals, bringing a young mysterious girl with them. Johnny begins to wonder who she is and what ties her to the man she rides with.

Warnings: language, drinking, sexual innuendo, mention of drug abuse

A/N: No worries, there are no spoilers if you haven't seen the film! Should this become a series? I’m still trying to decide. For now I’m having fun writing it. Let me know if you enjoy reading by leaving a comment! 

Divider credit @firefly-graphics

"What's your name?" Johnny asked, attempting to keep his voice soft and neutral so as not to scare the lanky, young girl in the corner.

"What's it to you, pops?" the redhead asked with a roll of her eyes, returning her attention to choosing a song on the jukebox.

Johnny watched the neon pink change to orange and then red, illuminating her full cheeks as she hovered over it. Although she carried herself like a woman, her bratty attitude was that of a spoiled child and the thick layer of makeup she wore to conceal her features only confirmed it. 

"Look, I'm tryin' to be polite here, but we got rules in this club. We don't let kids hang around," he stated firmly.

"Then it's a good thing I'm eighteen," she noted, eyes never leaving the buttons where her manicured finger hovered, waiting to make a selection.

"Okay," Johnny said, sucking his teeth. "So you're legal, but I still don't know what to call ya."

The girl turned on her heel, an annoyed look in her eye as she looked up and down Johnny's imposing frame without any sign of fear. "You aren't gonna drop this are you?"

"Can't we be friends?" he asked diplomatically.

"I don't have friends," she professed.

She furrowed her brow as she glanced at the pool tables, studying one tall ex military type a moment too long. He caught her staring and stopped all movement, a darkness flashing in his otherwise vacant blue eyes. She shrunk suddenly and gave a weak smile, making Johnny feel uncomfortable with the sudden change in her demeanor. "Who's that?" he asked, wondering how they knew each other.

Like the shifting wind outside, she sighed in exasperation. ”Who is that? Who are you? What are you a fucking owl?" she asked, storming off to a table to be alone.

Johnny could take a lot, but not disrespect. Boots stomping across the sticky floor of the bar toward her, he stopped with a look of determination brewing. "I think it's time for you to leave before you get yourself into trouble. Anyway, I've had about enough of your mouth.”

"You've never even tried it," the red head countered with a sly wink, looking up at him smugly from her seat. 

Johnny sank into a chair beside her, utterly confounded by her behavior.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time to tell me your name…" he began, but that was as far as he got. No sooner had he started his question than the man from the pool table was upon them, a long shadow cast over Cherry’s back as the large man dwarfed her.

When Johnny searched his face, however, he noticed he couldn’t have been much older than the redhead herself, perhaps three or four years at most.

He seemed to be well acquainted with the girl, grasping her shoulder possessively. "You good here, Cherry?” he asked, eyeing Johnny suspiciously. 

She sighed, disappointed that her little game had come to an abrupt end. Then she looked up and gave a nod. "Yeah, I'm fine," she demurred, batting her lashes.

He stroked her cheek and Johnny swore he saw her flinch before eventually leaning into his touch. It made him even more curious about her and why she might be with the rough looking men who rode in yesterday.

As the man shuffled back to the pool table, Johnny hummed, "Cherry, huh? What kinda name is that?" 

"Only one I've got. Take it or leave it," she answered, the acidic bite returning to her tone instantly.

"Seems like I already asked you to leave," Johnny grumbled to himself, grabbing a beer and pushing away from the table in resignation.

A spine tingling screech like the cry of a feral animal stretched out into the air over the low rumble of the approaching motorcycle engines.

“What the heck is that?” Kathy asked, turning away from the picnic table to wipe her hands on her jeans. 

“I think it’s the new guys from the bar last week,” Gail explained, glancing over at her husband and Johnny who stood waiting to greet them. “Johnny invited ‘em to keep things civil.”

Kathy grimaced as the newcomers came closer, the noise intensifying to a rallying cry of whoops and whistles. The muscular man with the redhead at his back was the loudest by far, emitting a scream practically deafening her where she stood. 

Gail huddled close to Brucie, as did most of the wives who wondered why Johnny had brought more outsiders to their quiet little club. "Who's he?" she pointed.

“That one’s Banshee,” Brucie said with a jerk of his head.

“Yeah I see why,” Kathy exclaimed. “And I’m guessing the girl is the one they call Cherry?” she ventured.

“Cherry, right,” Brucie agreed, looking her up and down.

The wives all noticed how Cherry was hardly dressed for the autumn weather in her halter top and tiny leather mini skirt. It was drawing plenty of attention which was possibly her only ambition. 

“Didn’t anybody tell her the women here don’t go by stupid names? It’s only the fellas who buy into that stuff,” Kathy said shaking her head in disapproval. 

Gail just shrugged, “Who cares as long as she keeps these guys entertained and out of trouble, right?”

“Sure,” Kathy agreed, taking up a place at the table.

It wasn’t until the sun was setting a few hours later that she began to rethink her opinion of the sultry looking redhead who refused to join the other women in conversation, preferring her own company instead. Circling the bonfire with her bottle, Cherry kept her distance. Occasionally she would dance to the music with the others, raising her arms to the sky without a care, but mostly she seemed to be watching Banshee out of the corner of her eye.

When he beckoned to her, she went to him and perched on his lap like a cat. Running a hand down his broad chest, she nestled into him as he wrapped a muscular arm around her waist, an expectant look on her face.

Holding her there in a strong grip, he proclaimed to the group, “This is my sweet little Cherry pie.”

“Cherry pie, I like that,” Corky exclaimed with amusement.

“Believe me, you’d love a slice of this,” Banshee bragged loudly, digging his fingers into Cherry’s thigh when she tried to close her legs. She clutched his shirt front, but he kept speaking, looking down at her with a leer.

“I can vouch for it, popped her cherry myself,” he boasted, taking hold of her chin for a sloppy kiss.

Although she accepted the sliver of affection, her body remained rigid and alert, listening to a far off voice mumble in surprise, “That’s why you call her Cherry?”

Banshee tilted his head back and roared with laughter. “People are all the time askin’ her how she got her name, but it ain’t nothin’ special,” he said dismissively, tapping Cherry’s arm to pass him another beer.

As he wiped the lipstick from his mouth with the back of his hand, she seemed to freeze momentarily. Her fingers uncurled from his shirt front slowly and dropped to her lap, light fading from her eyes.

"I thought it was cause of her hair," Cal piped up with a grin.

"Carpet matches the drapes though, don't they, baby?" Banshee joked, running a hand up her back to tangle in her hair.

She jerked away when he began to tug at the ends roughly, his hand swatting her ass to get her moving. As she stumbled off his lap he added, "If you're lucky you might get a peek, this tiny skirt she's got on don't cover much." As the invitation hung in the air, a long haired biker with rotten teeth leaned forward to cock his head at her with decided interest.

Cherry quickly turned away to reach into the cooler, glad her face was shielded from the men assembled in the circle. She didn't realize she was biting down hard on the inside of her cheek until she tasted a metallic bitterness on her tongue.

Across the field a few men from the Vandals took notice of the revelry, Johnny squinting in the dim light to see who was making all the noise. As he studied Banshee’s movements, he overheard Brucie and Zipco talking to one of his gang.

“How long’s he been back?” Brucie asked.

“A year, give or take," the man answered, the flicker of his lighter illuminating his face in the darkness.

“I tried to enlist, you know. Bastards wouldn’t take me,” Zipco spat, crushing a cigarette under his boot with more force than he intended.

“Banshee would say you dodged a bullet, man,” he replied slowly, considering the joint he held between his fingers. 

Zipco narrowed his eyes, “And why’s that?”

There was slow inhale, then a few metered words as he considered his answer, “Fucks with your head." He tapped his temple lightly. "You seen the way he is?” It wasn't actually a question, but a thinly veiled warning to those around him. Keep your distance.

“No, I meant, he seems to manage just fine,” Brucie pointed out, tilting his head to watch Banshee talking animatedly to his companions. "Got a bike and a girl. What else you need?"

"Looks that way don't it?," the cryptic reply came with another click of his lighter. Brucie and Zipco stared at each other as they waited for him to turn his attention back to them.

He never really did, mumbling in a barely coherent register as though he were still trying to make sense of it himself. "Nights he don’t spend with Cherry, he’s holed up somewhere with china girl. And sometimes when he can’t get what he wants, he swaps 'em around, see?” The man lingered a second, staring into nothingness as smoke billowed from his mouth in a great cloud which obscured his face.

The look of trepidation in Zipco’s eyes was lost to the haze as he muttered, “No, I…” 

Banshee whooped from across the field and the man went stumbling forth, ending the conversation with a halt.

Johnny couldn’t help but notice Cherry was no longer with him. He turned his head in time to see her disappear over the hill with the long haired biker from California, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.

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Watching American Primeval. I love Kim Coates so much

Im dying 🤣 😭

Gina from the Lunachicks in Not Bad for a Girl

Not Bad For a Girl was directed, produced and shot by rock phenomenologist feminist Lisa Rose Apramian, edited, shot and co-produced by Kyle C. Kyle Distributed by Spitshine Productions and Quantum Enterprises. Release date 1995

kirk hammett you're so pretty

Casanova - Benny Cross

Warnings: mentions of blood, one use of y/n, this is my first bikeriders fic so be nice

Synopsis: When Benny can't keep his eyes off you at a picnic he decides to make a move. (veryyy loosely based on risk by gracie abrams.)

Benny stood with a cigarette between his teeth, eyes scanning over you from across the field. He'd never seen you before, new blood in a sea of well known people, and he would have been a liar to say he wasn't intrigued. The girl in the white dress, surrounded by bikers and their wives. People who made you look overdressed, though you didn't seem to care.

Your smile was wide, a laugh he couldn't hear clear on your features as a group of kids came to hand you daisy chains before scampering off to go bother another poor soul. His feet carried him to you soon enough, boots squashing the grass between you as he formed a path. Your eyes were on him before he reached you, scanning over his body, his clothes, the cigarette in his hand.

"Hey," his eyes examine you just the same. Now that's he's closer, he notices more. The lace on your dress, the strings that tie it together. The tangles in your hair and the rouge of your lips.

"Who might you be?" your voice is soft, cautious as if you've had a hundred of these encounters before, none of which ending well.

"I'm Benny." He lifts the cigarette toward his lips, inhaling smoke without issue, and blowing it softly out again.

"And what does Benny want to know?" you put emphasis on his name as you say it and he likes the sound. "If I'm a single gal just waiting for a ride home?"

"Something like that, yeah." He honesty sounds like honey, dripping from an enticingly dangerous smile. "What's your name?"

You ignore his question, instead, asking him another. "Are you a Casanova, Benny?"

"That depends," Benny smiles, the cigarette wobbling between his teeth. "What's a Casanova?"

You take a step forward, reaching out to touch the fresh cut just above his eyebrow. When you pull your hand back, the tip of your index finger is spotted with blood. "Are you gonna love me and leave me? Or are you one of the good ones?" The explanation is better suited to him, and he thinks it over while his eyes sink into yours.

"I ain't good, but I'm no Casanova." he says finally, watching the smile pull itself onto your lips. You're playing with him, like a cat to a bird caught in its teeth, but he doesn't mind one bit. He might be playing you too, though he doesn't know anymore.

"You here with someone?" He asks, shifting the conversation back to you, his mystery girl. You look around at the groups on the field, but your eyes land on no one in particular. His stay locked on you, surroundings long forgotten.

"Yes and no."

Benny takes another puff of his cigarette, waiting for you to continue.

"M'here with my brother, his girlfriend too. Us girls took the car." You nod over to an old rusty red vehicle, beside it stands a man, glaring daggers at Benny. "But I've got no boyfriend if that's what you're asking."

You know damn well that is what he's asking, and his smile only grows once he knows the answer. But there's a frown on your face now, and you move away quicker than he can catch you. You swipe a semi-clean rag off of a nearby bike and a bottle of alcohol from a cooler. "God, c'mere." You gesture to him, already following behind you, and he does as you tell him. "You're bleeding like a stuck pig. Which is your bike?"

Benny points back the way he came in answer to your question. "That one there." He watches you nod, trying to read your expression as you wander over to his bike. He pictures you on it, your legs swung over before holding on tight.

"Sit, or lean, whatever." You point to the seat, and he does as he's told once again, making some of the surrounding men smirk. Johnny is watching from a few meters away, beer in hand. He's wondering if this will work out or crash and burn.

"You gonna sit still or make a scene?" You ask, opening the bottle in your hand and dabbing alcohol onto the rag. You step between his legs as Benny shrugs.

"Little bit of both." his smile is contagious and doesn't falter even when you begin to clean the wound on his face. The rag comes away red, and you have to ask the question you're dying to know.

"Saw you scrapping with one of the other boys earlier, that happen often?"

Benny is itching to put his hands on your hips, it's almost killing him not to as he pulls the cigarette from his lips and at long last, stamps it out. "Maybe."

"You a dangerous man?" your touch is so gentle on his face, one hand holding his chin up as you inspect the injury, bleeding less now. You have to admit, you enjoy being this close to him, he's definitely the prettiest man you'd ever seen at one of these meets.

"No," his mind has never been this busy, so he just asks. "D'you mind?" he's raised his hands, but hasn't touched you yet, waiting for permission. You lift a brow, pausing all movements as you process what he's asking you, until finally, you nod. "Go on then." You trust him, oddly enough, despite asking if he was dangerous a moment before.

His hands land on your hips at long last, guiding you just a little closer between his legs. The fabric of your dress is smooth under his fingers, and Benny can't help but run his thumb up and down over it as he holds you there. You could move away at any time, but you don't.

"I think the bleedings' stopped." you mumble, removing the rag and laying it over Benny's thigh. "Just don't let anyone take a swing at you for a while and it should heal up fine."

"Can't make any promises, honey."

The nickname takes you off guard, and you give him a quizzical look. Benny is very aware you've allowed his hands to stay on your body, and he's grateful.

"Honey?" you question, and Benny smirks, eyes on your lips.

"You never told me your name."

"Didn't think you deserved it." You're being smart with him, and something about is just so appealing. He loves the game, almost as much as you do it seems, and it could go on forever if you let it. You have him wrapped around your finger already, and Benny is absolutely fine with that.

"How 'bout now?" his hands squeeze your hips affectionately, and he can feel the indents of your underwear beneath the fabric of your dress. He tries to ignore it, but it's tantalizing. "Do I deserve it?"

You stare him down, his blue eyes so enchanting that it irritates you, and maybe he's got you in the palm of his hand as well, because you give in. "Y/N." you say it quietly, as if you don't want the other men around you to know, and Benny likes that even more.

"I like that name," he mutters, and his smile could kill. "you want a drink?" Your hands have slipped down to his shoulders, a soft pressure that he wishes would grow stronger.

"Yeah, I do." you're like a drug, though Benny is unsure if you know it. You could talk for hours, and he could just stare at your mouth, your eyes, your hair. Every part of you like a new fix. "You gonna get me one?" You ask after he sits in silence for a while, distracted by the curve of your cupids bow.

Benny stands, and your hands fall from his shoulders. "What's your poison?" he asks, knowing there are very little options in Johnny's cooler.

"I don't drink poison," You joke, and Benny chuckles softly, removing his hands from your hips. "I'll take a beer though."

He runs a hand over his mouth and the stubble of his chin and for a second you think he's trying to hide a boyish grin. But it's gone as quick as it comes. "Beer, okay." he moves off, toward a group of men in vandals jackets that match his own, and you know it's gonna be a long day.

When Benny glances back your way, head over his shoulder as if to make sure you haven't disappeared, you can feel yourself blush. You can almost picture how it will all go down, you and him together. It could be bad, but you want to find out.

~ ♡

Reblogs and comments appreciated <3

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they’re communicating

Can someone make an edit where Joey is with Ariana Grande's ponytail? I'm trying to see something

I feel like a virgin when I search up “x Reader” with a new character I like