#i want there to be mre love

[redstone-sun]

its my birthday today so lemme tell yall: writing the hermits in the world of control (2019) is SO fucking fun. holy shit i love it. however i will probably not end up posting any of it bc most of it is gratuitous mumbo suffering(expected) and ahti cameos(surprising). also control!zed has asthma and i dont really have an explanation for why

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Big Guy Big Belly

König is a big man, and with a big man comes a big appetite. We’re talking about a 6’10 man constantly maintaining his peak physique. He needs to be consuming as many calories and as much protein, carbs, fats, fiber and more to keep himself in fit and fighting shape.

At the canteen, he’s a nightmare. I bet that people rush to the cafeteria just to make sure they get something to eat before the big man on base rolls up. He’ll clear out the bins if he gets a chance. There’s a rumour on base that the reason König fought so hard to climb the ranks so quickly was just to be able to eat more and get away with it. Little do they know that they’re absolutely right, but König will never say that out loud. Ever. There’s some secrets you take to your grave. 

Either way, König is a menace in the canteen. He’ll pile his plate as high as he can when he gets a chance. He’s packing away all he can get in the shortest amount of time he can, and everyone has to suffer for it. The worst part is that everyone has to rush to get to the caf before König, and König knows exactly what others are doing, so he’s in a daily race against the entire base to eat his fill. It’s always a photo-finish to see who gets to the cafeteria first.  König currently has been slacking, so he’s not been eating like he normally has. Is he mad? Not really. He’ll clean out the snack cart later. 

He’s a monster late at night. Everyone knows that you need to leave the big man to his snacks, lest you face the wrath of the colossus on base. Well, wrath in a peculiar way. He just gets quiet and angry, but it’s still not a fun experience to try and fight him for a sandwich. If you take the last egg salad sandwich you’ll be at the top of his shit list for the next week. Don’t even think he won’t track you down. He’ll throw around his rank just to get his hands on the poor bastard. Nobody is safe, either.

Stiletto only once took the last pudding cup. Once. She never made that mistake again. For a week he was giving her dirty looks over a cold shoulder as he bumbled down the hall. She eventually had to give in and sacrifice a desert to be able to get back in his good graces. She still thinks he’s a massive bitch because of it. And you know what? She’s right. Everybody knows she’s right, König included, but he’ll keep going after whoever ‘steals’ ‘his’ snacks. They get along a bit better now that they’ve both advanced in rank and worked together, but there was a good period of time where Stiletto had to sleep with one eye open.

It gets a bit better for everyone when König finally finds a partner and doesn’t stay on base so often. Everyone takes a moment to pray for the poor soul who has to cook for König whenever he gets home from deployment.

See, during deployment, König can’t be such a massive bitch about food. He gets his rations, and that’s that. He can’t steal from anybody else, so he gets stuck with these pitiful MREs that barely fill him up. It’s miserable, and he’s losing weight like crazy when on the field. He’s running on fumes and burning calories like crazy as he’s risking his life out there. It’s gotten to a point where König has taken to eating with hostages post-rescue to ‘help them feel safer’ (read: get more food into his gullet). Thankfully, he puts his best foot forward when dealing with victims of trauma and ensures that he has somebody else do all the socializing while he plays with the kids after dinner. Apparently, after the inevitable shower of tears whenever kids have to face König, he becomes pretty popular. They love to use him as a jungle gym (and make fun of him) and he’s just happy to get more to eat. He’ll take being called ‘bigger than even my dad!’, being told ‘you’re weird’ or being asked ‘why are you so big and scary all the time?’ any day for a little extra to eat. He can tolerate a few kids. He won’t ever admit that hanging around them makes him want some kids of his own, or at least not to Horangi, who’s already teasing König about being a surrogate father to the kids. König tells him to keep it to himself, but Horangi is already buying things for the baby shower.

Once König finally comes home, that’s when all Hell breaks loose. This man has been starving and he needs food NOW. He won’t take no for an answer. If you don’t have something prepared, he’ll be ordering a massive order of takeout the likes of which you’ve never seen before in your life. He’ll hit multiple places on his way back to your place if he doesn’t think you’ve been able to get something together for him. If you can’t cook, he won’t even bother telling you to cook for him and just focus on getting a whole banquet of junk food ready for when he arrives home. He brings the pizzas in the door before he even brings in his own bags. You’ll have to go out and grab his bag as he sets up his personal buffet table. The worst part is despite how much he can shove down, he always buys more than he can eat, so you’ve got a couple of days worth of food to shove in the fridge at the end of the night.

If you can cook, this is a multi-day experience. Is it rewarding? Absolutely. Is it painful? Abso-fucking-lutely. He’s got you slaving for hours a day just to get him a nice home cooked meal. You’ll be going all out to get him a big enough meal. We’re thinking a tray of mac and cheese, a whole roast chicken, easily a handful of loaded baked potatoes. If you have something from your traditional cuisine, he’s not picky, he’ll gobble it up in a heartbeat. Knowing you made it for him is more than enough for him. Food is the way to a man’s heart, some say, and König will never let you go if you treat him like the king he is.

The good thing about cooking König such a big meal is that he gives back. He’s not a fan of cooking, but for the next few days he’ll take over cooking and cleaning in the kitchen. It’s just an easy way for him to give back, you know? He can’t thank you enough with words, so why not with actions?

But the best part of König giving back is that he’s an excellent cook. He cooks mostly traditional food from his culture, but he’s down for some french or italian cooking if you’re into it. He can make a mean lasagne. He does not skimp on the cheese, this man. No he’s a cheese fiend. If you’re lactose intolerant, you’ve got another thing coming for you. He will hand feed you lactaid just for the meal. If you have a dietary restriction, he’ll learn how to cook your types of meals in abundance. He’s perfect that way. Vegetarian, vegan, keto, no matter what, he’s got your back. He’s learned how to make an excellent spread for a dinner party, and part of learning to cater to others is to work around other people’s diets; his mother drilled that rule into his little head as a kid. He does it without complaint, too. For at least a week after coming home, he’s just so happy to be around food in abundance again. He’s absolutely thriving in the kitchen before the thrill wears off and he’s back to avoiding cooking like the plague again.

He loves to eat, but usually hates to cook. He’ll mostly eat takeout until he actually has to eat a nutritious meal again for a change. It’s not that cooking is awful, it’s just that he hates doing the dishes. He’d be far more inclined if he didn’t have to do the dishes afterwards. If you take over dishes, he’ll definitely step up his game for the both of you.

All in all, König loves to eat. He’s a big man with a bigger appetite, as hard as that is to believe. Once he retires he has to learn to cut back a fair bit, but he never loses his taste for sweets and snacks. It’s just something you’ll have to learn to live with.

[letsnotperceive]

Okay, I just can’t stop thinking about John Price honestly. Especiallyyy after he’s *retired*!!

Here is a little drabble (is that the right word? Can’t remember, I’m new here). It gets a little 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 (18+) towards the bottom but nothing crazy. F!Reader

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉ ୨ᰔ୧ ﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

✧.* Because sure, big buff military man who’s puffin’ more smoke than a chimney is cool and all. But give me sleepy, squishy, human teddy bear Price. Give me Price who’s perpetually exhausted after carrying the weight of the world on his back. Price that just wants to hibernate for a while with his luv.

✧.*Im thinking he’s all softened up around the edges. All that muscle mass doesn’t disappear over night, but as time passes and he’s no longer on an extensive workout routine, it ain’t sticking around forever. Big ol’ pecs that you can squish your face against, a little padding to his stomach. Hold on, stay with me now 🤤

✧.* Of course, he’s still got that grizzly sort of appearance. All mapped in scars and maybe the occasional burn from those late nights spent at his desk with a cigar between his fingers while he’s drifting in and out of consciousness with exhaustion. The damn workaholic! Hairy too; least we forget—that beard and those arms. Oh lord.

✧.*Maybe one day you realize in that post retirement laze of his (which is well deserved, mind you. Don’t give him a hard time now) that he’s looking a lil’ extra scraggly. You sit on the bathroom counter, and with a delicate hand and a very distracted focus, you give his beard a shave. All cute and romantic, the room still steamy from your shared shower…

BAD. Mistake. You both agree to never let it happen again. An angel just lost its wings!! Leave his beard alone 😭

✧.*Treat this man so good, he deserves it. Whether you like to cook or not, you find yourself gravitating to the kitchen on occasion to make sure he’s eating well at least some of the time. Some home-cooked meals to cancel out all those shitty MREs he’s consumed in his lifetime.

✧.*Bet he will reward you for it too; he’s got a soft spot for good girls. He is tired of yelling commands and barking out orders, he’s too worn out to deal with a brat. Be a sweet little thing now and show him some love. Offer to climb into his lap and take over when his bad leg starts acting up, see where it gets you.

✧.*Rolling your hips to a steady rhythm only you hear, he lets you have your fun until he’s ready to set the pace. Big hands pawing at your waist, clutching at you just tight enough his fingers are going to leave red marks for him to soothe away after. He doesn’t even have to roll his hips up against you, he can just move you as he pleases with his strength.

✧.*You don’t even have to try to give him a show—he drinks in every little reaction you give him. His heart skips a beat when you mewl, your eyes threatening to roll back in sheer bliss. The sticky sound of your thighs, drenched in arousal, meeting his skin. The way your lips meet his neck and shoulders, kissing and nipping love bites against his body. The mattress springs squeaking from underneath you two. It’s a performance, and he’s dedicated to appreciating every moment.

✧.*He’ll send you melting with his words, too—

“Mmm, is that good, little luv’?”

“You like that, baby? My darlin’?”

“Such a good girl—doing so well f’me.”

“F-fuck lovie, do that thing with your hips again~”

✧.* Aftercare is top-tier with him too, no questions asked. He may have gotten a little lazy in his retirement, but never when it comes to you. Water, a snack, a quick clean up. Him putting his entire weight over you like a human weighted blanket. Whatever you need, Lovie.

﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

Wrote this quickly after doing an online job interview, I don’t think it went very well bc I have awful RBF but wish me luck :,)

Should I do a full fledged fic about this? Anyone interested? Okay, bye <3

[princessdimondheart]

Tells | Ghost x Secret Wife! Reader

Pairing: Ghost x f! Reader

Warnings: blood, wounds, pregnancy, 🥺

Edited: No

A/N: I really wanted to do my own take on this idea. Hope you like it.

Masterlist

Character banner ©️ Me

Johnny wasn’t sure how he hadn’t realized it before, after being introduced to his Lieutenant’s wife. There were small, subtle tells that gave away Ghost having a significant other, but he never put the pieces together. Honestly, Johnny was a little upset because he’s in the SAS- he should be able to see things like this. 

The first time he noticed something was strange with Simon was when they were gathering their gear right before going to another mission. They were placing the last of their equipment into their bags. Simon had not put his black skeleton gloves on yet so his wrists were exposed. Johnny didn’t notice anything different until Simon rolled up his sleeves like usual. And there it was. 

A hair tie. 

He didn’t think much about it. Maybe he found it laying around the base. No. That would be weird and there weren’t that many women frequenting the same places as Simon anyways. 

Could he be using it to snap at his wrist when or if he got anxious? Nah.. Ghost stays focused on missions. Johnny doubted Ghost would let anxiety pull a fast one on him in the field. 

Oh! Simon is definitely growing his hair out. Johnny wondered if his balaclava was comfortable with long hair. So he pointed it out. 

“Growing your hair out L.t.?” His lips curled into a little smirk. 

Simon looked up from the full magazine in his hands. Only his eyes gave away his confusion. “No? Why?”

“Your hair tie.” Johnny nodded to his right wrist. “Never took ya for a purple-wearin’ kind of guy, sir.”

Ghost blinked at his Sergeant and then glanced to his aforementioned wrist. Sure enough a bold purple hair tie was bound to his lower arm. Simon was sure he had removed it before leaving home earlier that day. 

“Oh… must have forgot.” Simon spoke absentmindedly. He was remembering his wife. He had gotten home before her and when she came he helped her remove her ponytail, completely forgetting about the hair tie once their kisses got the better of them. 

Simon didn’t say anything else, so Johnny shrugged it off and continued filling his bag with ammunition. Not even two minutes after he forgot what they were talking about when Captain Price called them over. 

~~~~~

The next time something was different with Ghost, Johnny wasn’t even the one who noticed it first. It was Gaz who pointed it out. 

After a long and hard mission, Task Force 141 had finally arrived at base. The team desperately needed showers, so right after hoping off the helicopter everyone went straight to their barracks. 

After their most loved showers everyone went to the mess hall for some real food and not the field MREs they had been eating for the past few weeks. There Kyle had already gotten his portion of food and was digging in. Soap and Price were sitting across from him too, but no Ghost in sight. Simon came in almost halfway through their dinner and sat next to the young Sergeant. The food on his tray was not being eaten. 

That’s when Kyle smelled it. A fruity smell was wafting from the freshly showered SAS powerhouse next to him. Ghost smelled of fresh cut pomegranates and some other fruit notes. It took him by surprise. Kyle would have normally pictured Ghost as a strict standard-issue soap kinda user, not a fruity one. 

“Did they change the regular soaps, sir?” Gaz took the risk. 

Johnny had finished chewing and looked up at his L.t. and Kyle with a questioning look. Then he leaned forward on the table to take a sniff. 

“Is that pomegranate, L.t.?” Johnny chuckled. He’d take any chance to tease his superior. 

Ghost gave them a subtle glare. He had hoped no one would have noticed his mistake. He’d been in a hurry to leave home and well…

“I grabbed the wrong bottle.” He deadpanned then turned to Price, who was shaking his head in disapproval at the two, to ask about any new leads. Clearly, the conversation was over. 

~~~~~

The third time was when their mission went FUBAR. Ghost and Soap had gotten separated from Captain Price and Gaz when their enemies tried to ambush them. In the chaos Soap was shot in the leg, but with Ghost’s help, he was able to escape and hold out until it was safe enough for them to head to the rendezvous point for extraction. 

Now that they were relatively safe, Ghost was searching his packs for supplies to help Johnny with. Johnny wasn’t particularly paying too much attention to what he was doing since he was bleeding out and moaning in pain, but he definitely noticed when Ghost used a tampon to plug the gunshot wound in his thigh. 

“Fuckin’ hells, Ghost! Where’da fuck yous get a bloody tampon from!?”

“It’s an essential tool for survival.” He honestly had no idea how that slipped into his med pouch. Johnny guessed it was so if Ghost had said it. 

~~~~~

Next time they were somewhere in Africa, most definitely melting with the heat. A great bonding experience for the two of them. Their only relief was a slow moving breeze. Soap and Ghost were staking out one of a known terrorist cell’s many compounds. All was quiet for now. 

“Johnny?” Ghost didn’t move from his position, eyes dead on his scope. 

Johnny looked over. “Yeah, L.t.?”

“Once we’re done here, I’m taking you somewhere important. Keep your schedule clear.” Simon’s deep voice sounded out softly. 

“Oh… alright.” He didn’t know what to say. “Okay. Definitely, Simon.” 

He looked back towards the compound. Simon had glanced at that moment to see his little smile. His eyes crinkled. 

~~~~~

True to his word, after their stakeout mission was completed, Simon hauled Johnny into his car and began to drive them to who knows where. All Johnny knew was that the drive took several hours from their base in London to wherever they were in the countryside. 

They were nearly at their destination when Simon pulled them into a long driveway and pressed a button controller on his shade that opened the metal gates. Going through, the road was surrounded by open pastures on both sides. When Johnny looked around more closely he noticed a few horses, and, was that a cow? They were grazing on the lush grass. Was his L.t. taking him to a farm?

“Where are we, sir?” He had to ask. 

“You’ll see, Johnny.” Simon had slowed down so as to not spook any of the animals grazing. 

Two minutes later and the car pulled up to a nice two-story cottage home. It was made from stone and appeared to be like a fairy tale type of house. Johnny quite liked the look of it. He noticed that the lights were on. 

Simon opened the locked door, then took off his skull balaclava. It was clear that he was comfortable enough to forego it. “I called ahead, so dinner should be ready soon.”

Dinner? Who’s made them dinner? Johnny didn’t question him and just nodded. Simon stepped inside, none of the wooden boards squeaked when he walked in them unlike when Johnny stepped on them. His steps alerted the person in the kitchen. A delicious smell was coming out in soft waves. The person poked their head out to see who was there. They weren’t worried because they knew that only Simon had the extra key. 

“I’m home.” Johnny noticed a softness in his voice that he hadn’t heard before. Simon’s large frame was blocking his view of the person. A dog suddenly burst from the kitchen barking at Simon before realizing who he was. It sat down when he started to pet him, his butt wiggling with the fast beat of his tail. Cute. Then the dog, a German shepherd, turned to him and started sniffing him with caution. Johnny let him sniff his hand and after a bit he licked his hand and wagged his tail. Approved. 

“Welcome home, Simon!” The person’s voice was distinctly feminine. Johnny had moved closer to Simon and the kitchen, so when the woman fully came into view he saw her right away. 

She went in for a hug and that’s when Johnny noticed a small, yet significant distance between the two. She was pregnant and her baby belly was making it a little harder to hug her. But that didn’t stop Simon from embracing her as tightly as he could. When her hand came up to rest against Simon’s shoulder, Johnny noticed again the large diamond on her ring finger. 

“L.t.?” The two lovers separated to look at him. 

“Johnny, come meet my wife.” Simon gave him a knowing nod which Johnny instantly returned. 

He almost couldn’t believe it. His L.t. had brought him home to see his little family. Johnny almost choked up upon realizing the significance of Simon trusting him with this information. Right then and there, Johnny gave Simon a mental promise to help keep his family safe, no matter what.

Bonus: 

“Oh! The baby is kicking! Want to feel ‘em, Johnny?” Simon’s wife asked. 

“Oh, sure! If that’s alright with you?” She took his larger hand in answer and placed it near the top of her baby bump. A few kicks hit his hand. They were rather strong kicks too. Definitely a football star, or another SAS kid, in the making. 

“Woah!” Johnny exclaimed. Then, turning to his L.t. who was watching them interact, his mouth turned into a wide grin. “Does that make me their uncle, Simon?”

“Don’t push it, MacTavish.” His wife giggled. 

Masterlist

[screamingviridianforest]

Wait wait wait for the shifter!reader au, i just knooooooow price is the dad TM that doesn't want the cat and then a week later, BAM, is the one doing most of the coddling and spoiling.

And i literally mean buying the best fish for kitty, cuddling while watching football, baby talking, the whole shebang.

And i headcanon that the cat doesn't like simon very much, always listens to soap and just looooves biting and chewing on him, and the 141 knows that if kyle is in another room, that's where kitty is going to be. no one can keep kitty in the room if gaz is in another one shshshsh

No this is literally adorable and i love this idea

Price is definitely the one to do all the research for catshifter!reader. At first, it's just food, claiming if he didn't want to eat it, neither should you. That and you refused the cheap kibble they picked at the corner store while heading home after just picking you up.

"I think you're goin' a lil' overboard..." Soap murmurs as Price writes down a list of vet recommended food and treats, and a list of raw foods cats often enjoyed too.

"Kibble is the cat version of an MRE. Do you want to eat an MRE every day for the rest of your life with no change?" Price quips back, and it shuts Soap up pretty quickly.

~

Then, the cuddles start. While you mainly lay with Gaz or Soap because they handle you the best, Price is quickly raising in the ranks. Afternoon naps curled up on his chest were amazing, his heartbeat soothing you to sleep. Though the boys were mad, you stole their spot.

"Think we can kick the cat off and steal the spot?" Simon mutters under his breath, Gaz playfully shoves him.

"Don't you dare, they're finally bonding!" Is Gaz's whisper-shouted response.

~

Gaz and Soap are the ones who tag team toys. They quickly learn your preferences and stock up on that. With plenty of cat trees and scratching posts so you'd stop scratching Simon's bed.

Most times, though, you end up asleep on one of their laps(Kyle's, probably), while they keep themselves entertained. The toys were great for when they were gone, though.

[midastouch013]

Deserted Island

Based on this request

Summary: You and Natasha have never been exactly 'friends', but will it take a change when a mission gone wrong ends up with you both on a deserted island ?

Warnings: None

P.S : In all honesty, I will admit this isn't one of my best works, but I promise I'll try to make the next ones better.

--

The mission had gone south faster than a lead balloon. As you stumbled towards the Quinjet with Natasha by your side, every step felt like a monumental effort. Pain seared through your arm with each movement, but you gritted your teeth, refusing to slow down.

Natasha glanced at you, her expression unreadable as always. "You okay?"

You forced a smirk, despite the pain. "Just peachy. Though, I've had better days."

She rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Clearly."

Natasha wasted no time in getting the jet off the ground, her hands flying over the controls with practiced ease. As the Quinjet soared through the sky, the tension inside matched the turbulence outside. You winced, clutching your injured arm, feeling Natasha's icy gaze upon you. "Well, that was fun," you muttered.

Natasha's response was her signature deadpan stare. "Define 'fun'," she retorted, her tone as frosty as ever.

"Oh, you know, the thrill of dodging bullets, the rush of adrenaline," you quipped, flashing her a crooked grin despite the pain pulsing through your arm.

She rolled her eyes, the corner of her lips twitching slightly. "Remind me to skip your idea of a good time next time."

You sighed, leaning back in the chair, having finally wrapped your injured arm in the time you had shared this small conversation with the redhead, closing your eyes to rest. But when you thought you were in the clear, ready to catch up on some sleep, alarms blared throughout the cockpit, lights flashing red.

"What now?" you groaned, opening your eyes to see Natasha cursing under her breath, her fingers flying over the controls in a frantic dance.

“ Engine Failure, So much for Tony’s tech skills”

As the Quinjet soared over the ocean, tension hung heavy in the air. And then, it happened. The engine stuttered, and warning lights flooded the cockpit.

Natasha's hands continued to fly over the controls, her movements precise despite the urgency of the situation. "Brace yourself. We're going down."

You clenched your jaw, your heart pounding in your chest as the Quinjet descended towards the deserted island below. The impact sent a jolt of pain through your arm, and you bit back a curse as the aircraft came to a halt.

When the dust settled, you exchanged a glance with Natasha. "Well, that was one way to make an entrance."

She didn't respond, her attention focused on assessing the damage to the Quinjet. But you couldn't resist needling her, even in the face of danger.

"You know, if you wanted a vacation, all you had to do was ask. No need for the dramatics."

Natasha shot you a glare, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes. "You're unbelievable."

You grinned, despite the circumstances. "You love it."

—

Natasha had wasted no time slipping into survival mode, rattling off a list of tasks with her usual efficiency. "We need to build a shelter, gather food, and start a signal fire. And considering how you're usually useless, and with your arm like that, you're going to be even more useless."

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offence. "Hey, I resent that remark!"

“And I resent you”

You opened your mouth to retort but decide against it, and close your mouth as the redhead begins her litany of survival tasks, her tone growing more exasperated with each item she mentioned. 

"Build a shelter, gather food," she repeated, ticking off each task with a stern look. "And don't think I'm going to do all the work here.", her statement contradicting the one about you few minutes prior

You met her gaze with a raised eyebrow. "Relax, Romanoff. Shelter's already taken care of—The Quinjet, in case you were wondering. And I'm pretty sure we packed enough MREs to last us a week. All you need to do is chill, and let's figure out how to get an SOS out there without throttling each other."

Her expression darkened slightly at your casual dismissal of her plans. "This isn't a joke, Y/n. We need to be prepared."

You shrugged, unfazed by her disapproval, and started walking towards the Quinjet. But true to her competitive nature, Natasha swiftly picked up her pace, walking ahead with purpose.

Rolling your eyes at her stubbornness, you followed after her. 

As Natasha and you scrambled through the Quinjet, searching for a way to signal for help, she discovered a compartment marked with Stark Industries logos. 

"Found it," she declared, flipping open the panel to reveal an array of switches and buttons. With practiced efficiency, she activated the emergency call beacon. 

Within moments, Tony Stark's face appeared on the small screen. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Romanoff and Y/l/n. What's the emergency, ladies?"

Natasha smirked, her usual reserved demeanor easing into a more relaxed banter. "Quinjet down on an island. Need a pickup."

Tony leaned back in his chair, a playful glint in his eye. "You know, I thought I told you not to break my toys, Natasha."

You couldn't resist chiming in. "Don't worry, Stark. It's in one piece—mostly."

Tony chuckled, his charisma palpable even through the screen. "Alright, alright. Rescue's on the way. ETA tomorrow morning. Just hold tight."

Natasha nodded, her tone more businesslike now. "We'll be ready."

The call ended, and you shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, that's that. Rescue's coming. Might as well enjoy the beach while we can."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her eyes. "You never fail to find the silver lining, do you?"

You grinned, heading towards the exit of the Quinjet. "Hey, might as well make the most of it, right?"

–

As night settled over the deserted island, you stepped out of the Quinjet after a quick trip to the restroom. The cool evening breeze swept over the beach, carrying the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. To your surprise, in the most random occurrence, Natasha emerged from the sea, drenched and shivering, her usual composed facade slipping for a moment.

You sighed softly, shaking your head at one of her occasional lapses of common sense. Grabbing a towel from the supplies Tony insisted on keeping in the jet for emergencies, you approached Natasha, who protested half-heartedly as you draped the towel around her shoulders.

"Come on, Romanoff," you said gently, guiding her towards the Quinjet. "Let's get you warmed up."

She hesitated for a moment but relented, allowing you to lead her back inside. Once there, you headed to the spare room where you kept a change of clothes—something you always packed, just in case.

Natasha watched you with a mixture of reluctance and gratitude as you handed her the clothes. "I appreciate the gesture, but I'm fine."

You chuckled softly. "Sure you are." With a playful smirk, you added, "Besides, I think you'll look better in dry clothes."

She raised an eyebrow, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes as she took the clothes from you. "Fine. But don't get used to this."

Moments later, she emerged from the room wearing your hoodie and sweats, her hair still damp and her face scrubbed free of makeup. Despite her disheveled appearance, there was an undeniable allure to her, and you couldn't help but notice how stunning she looked in your clothes.

"You wear my clothes nice, Romanoff," you teased, a genuine smile tugging at your lips.

She rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "Don't make a habit of complimenting me."

You chuckled softly, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the tropical climate. 

“ Duly noted” you say with a smile on your face “ I’m gonna watch the night from the top, you’re welcome to join”

The redhead gave you a look which screamed ‘ I don’t know what you minted to do, and its probably not good, but I’m still tagging along’

The night air was cool and soothing as you and Natasha sat atop the Quinjet, both lost in contemplation under the soft glow of the moon. Your injured arm was snug in a makeshift sling and bandage, a constant reminder of the day's events. The silence between you felt heavy with unspoken words and unexplored feelings.

Finally, unable to bear the quiet any longer, you turned to Natasha with a sarcastic quirk of your eyebrow. "So, Romanoff, remind me again why you hate me so much?"

She glanced at you, her expression guarded but tinged with something softer beneath the surface, seemingly caught by the unexpected question. "I don't hate you, Y/n. I just... find you infuriating."

You chuckled softly, the tension in your shoulders easing at her honest response. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment coming from you."

Her lips twitched, almost a smile, before her gaze returned to the moonlit horizon. "You don't make it easy, you know."

You sighed softly,. "I know. I have a knack for pushing people's buttons."

There was a pause, the sound of the ocean waves filling the space between you. Then, tentatively, you reached out, placing a hand gently on Natasha's shoulder. "But I also know there's more to you than meets the eye, Nat."

She stiffened slightly at your touch, but didn't pull away. Her voice was quieter now, vulnerable. "You don't know me."

You met her gaze steadily, your tone sincere. "Maybe not. But I'd like to."

As Natasha's dry chuckle echoed in the still night air, her words carried a weight you couldn't ignore. "You really wouldn't," she insisted, her voice tinged with a hint of resignation. "And if you did, you'd regret it."

You rolled your eyes in response, a silent retort forming on your lips. Instead of arguing further, you reached for your phone and pulled up your Spotify downloads. Scrolling through the list, you found the slow, melodic tune you knew was her favorite.

With a smirk, you hit play, letting the music fill the quiet space between you. Natasha's surprise was evident, though she tried to mask it with a casual glance away. The song's gentle melody wrapped around you both, weaving a tender thread of connection in the cool night.

Taking a deep breath, you held out your hand to her with a goofy grin. "Come on, Romanoff. Dance with me."

Her initial instinct seemed to be to refuse, but something in your demeanor or the unexpected gentleness of the moment made her hesitate. Finally, she relented, placing her hand in yours with a faint sigh.

As you both swayed slowly to the music, the silence between you spoke volumes. You took the opportunity to explain yourself, your voice gentle and sincere amidst the playful banter that usually defined your interactions.

"I do see you, Nat," you admitted softly. "I see the tough exterior, the walls you've built. But I also see the strength, the loyalty, the way you always have our backs, even when you push us away."

She listened quietly, her gaze softening as she met your eyes. There was a vulnerability in her expression, a rare glimpse behind the mask she wore so well.

"You're not easy to read," you continued, a small smile quirking your lips. "But I think that's part of why we clash. It's also why... why I can't help but want to understand you better."

Natasha's expression softened further, a mixture of surprise and something deeper flickering in her eyes. She didn't respond immediately, but the fact that she hadn't pulled away spoke volumes.

"And hey," you added, injecting a hint of your usual sarcasm to lighten the mood, "even if you decide to kill me later for this moment of vulnerability, at least we'll always have this dance."

She huffed a quiet laugh, the tension between you easing as you both swayed together in the dim light of the Quinjet. The song played on, a gentle backdrop to the unspoken understanding that had bloomed between you.

In that moment, surrounded by the quiet of the night and the warmth of the music, you realized that perhaps there was more to your relationship with Natasha than just witty comebacks and some frigidness.

[lucluvr]

good girls get exactly what they want

ft. zhongli, alhaitham, welt, and jing yuan

he thinks you’re the sweetest girl he’s ever had. a man of principle keeps his word: his good girl gets what they want!

afab chubby reader / heavy praise / teasing / fingering / oral (f!receiving) / a lot of sweet words / nipple play / use of “sweetheart, baby, honey, puppy, etc” reverse cowgirl / dumbification (if you squint) / very soft and sweet <3

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zhongli:

humanity was an interesting concept to zhongli. being thousands of years old, living amongst the liyuen people under many aliases, zhongli has had lovers come and go. he loves passionately and deeply. when his tongue ribs circles over your clit, the pressure of his hands on your hips make you whine.

in his thousands of years of experience, zhongli realized each of his lovers found pleasure from different things, however, he’s never had a lover lose their mind so quickly. forked tongue licking up and down your slit as your slick coats his chin messily.

zhongli’s amber eyes gaze into yours as he restrains your wrists against your hips. whines and soft pants fall from your puffy lips (sometimes he bites when he’s excited)

“li! please sto-“ he lets go of one of your wrists as he slides his finger into your mouth. he slides it all the way to the back as your eyes roll back. the gagging sound has zhongli crawling back into the warmth of your cunt.

“shh, just enjoy it, darling.” he’s always put your pleasure before his. your hands wrap around his wrist, trying to pull his fingers out of your mouth, but he slides a finger inside of you and you’re gone.

a muffled whine comes from you and zhongli gazes up at you again. his lips suck on the puffy pearl between your labia. he watches as your eyes roll back again. he feels your thighs cover his ears and he takes this as a sign to. start savoring the taste of you. he hums against your clit, making your soft thighs shake around him. he removes his finger from your mouth, placing it on your hips. his thumb lovingly brushes against the chub of your stomach.

your hands cover your eyes, back arching into him. he feels your muscles contract— you’re close. he opens his eyes to find your hands again. he pins them to your sides as your twitch and convulse around his fingers and tongue. he can feel you holding back.

his fingers curl upwards, making you shoot upright, but he pushes you back down. tears prick at your eyes as you hiccup wetly, begging him to let you cum.

“please, lili!! need to cum…” your words turn into mumbles as your sweet release is so near. “been a good girl, please lili…” your sweet and whiny tone has him smiling and humming against your clit once more.

as your eyes roll back into your skull, white splotches stain your vision and before you know it he’s sent you over the edge. zhongli detaches himself from your cunt, a string of saliva following his lips.

his wet lips kiss your inner thighs, squishing the soft skin under his fingers.

“my good girl,” he says in his baritoned voice. his words send butterflies into your tummy. without any warning his lips secure themselves back onto your clit. you jolt, your legs pushing on zhongli’s shoulder, but he’s quick. he catches your ankle as tears prick at your pretty eyes.

he tuts, kissing your ankles. he trails his kisses up your calf, into the underside of your knees. he pushes your knees to your chest, having you hold them in place. you sniffle as his thick fingers come back to bully your clit.

“so pretty, baby. be good for me, yeah?” you shake your head and whimper.

“too sensitive, ‘li! no ‘mre…” a soft pout appears on your lips. he chuckles and kisses the tears away.

“my sweet girl, you can take it baby. be the good girl i know you are, okay?” his honey coated voice makes your head feel dizzy. he trails kisses down your soft tummy and thighs before finding his rightful spot again. his hands push up your knees again.

his tongue swirls your clit again and his fingers are back to being pushed into your cunt. he curls his fingers against that spongey spot, making you see stars.

zhongli’s dealt with his fair share of bratty lovers who fought tooth and nail about obedience, yet you? you’re his best girl, his sweetheart. no one has ever been as pliant and as sweet as you are to him. he thinks that all good girls should get to cum hundreds of times, and zhongli will do exactly that. he is a god and his word is final. so if he says his sweet baby gets to cum until he gets her brain all jelly— so be it <3

alhaitham:

alhaitham has never found much interest in relationships. he doesnt go out of his way to interact with others, he doesn’t care much for people anyway. he doesn’t need anyone anyway when he has a wife waiting for him at home. the one who makes him chai every morning, wrapping him aloo filled roti parcels for lunch, the one who massages his shoulders when they become far too sore.

he adores his wife and he’s very open about his gratitude for you. it’s become a routine at this point. anytime he is required to stay in the desert for an extended period of time, he demands you to be seated on his face whenever he comes back.

in the words of the acting grand sage, “it is the least i can do for you.” however you think that he does the absolute most. his hooked nose bumping against your clit makes you bite your thumb as you hover over his soft lips. alhaitham grumbles in annoyance. he kisses your shaky inner thighs softly,

“habibi, sit. it’s okay.” he tries to comfort the anxiety you get every time he does this. his thumbs rub comforting circles in your hips, urging you to sit on his face. his mouth waters at the sight if your clit peaking out from your puffy lips.

“dont wna hurt you, haitham.” your lips curl into a frown as you put your weight into your knees. he kisses your inner thigh, biting them gently. to tease you, he blows cool air onto your clit, making you whine. you press on his head, “stop!”

he shakes his head, “please, baby. let me do this for you…you’ve been so good for me, please?” his voice has a slight desperation to it. it’s as if he doesn’t get to taste you on his tongue in the next few seconds he will go insane.

he’s right though. you’ve been incredibly patient with him. you’ve been at his side while he adjusts to his new job, and casually overthrows the government. due to the whole fiasco, he hasn’t had the time or energy to do anything but kiss you. sure it made you a bit sad, but when he found out he gave you the night of your life. and now he’s lying under you practically begging to make you feel so good, who are you to decline?

“but kaveh…” you mutter into your palms. “what if he hears?” you ask him, voice wavering. he sighs as he rubs his nose into your thighs.

“to hell with him. this is my house. if he had a problem, he can move out.” he grumbles against your plump skin. he kisses the skin once more before turning to you. “come on habibti please?”

he scoots you closer to his lips. he leaves the softest kiss on your clit. “promise you won’t break me,” he kisses the swollen bud again. “i’ll make you feel so good, baby. ‘m so sorry. lemme make it up to my good girl, yeah?” he mumbles into your skin. you have half the mind to question if he’s even talking to you.

his tongue peaks out from his lips, gently licking the bud. he then takes a deep breath and goes for it. his free hand parts your lips, his tongue swirling around the bud, dragging down to your hole. he sees you clenching around nothing and he coos softly. he prods two fingers inside your hole. your whines and gasps urge alhaitham on. he curls his fingers so nicely, your body shivers. you grab onto his hair, tangling it between your fingers.

your cunt is so wet and so sensitive. having your husband between your thighs, making you see stars after weeks of needing him makes you cum so quick. you don’t even see it coming. alhaitham drinks down any slick that comes from you, lapping it up like a thirsty dog.

he gently lifts you up, laying you back down on the bed. he stands tall and proud above you, removing his fitted shirt. one of his hands intertwines with yours, making you smile. his hands travel up your body, squeezing your soft flesh under his big hands.

“my pretty wife. my girl,” his lips suck on the soft skin of your waist. he makes you giggle as he prods at your ticklish spots. your sweet laughter makes him smile. “i love your laugh. i love you,” he whispers against your lips before stealing a kiss from you. you happily wrap your legs around his hips and your arms slide up his broad shoulders.

with his free hand, alhaitham unbuckles his belt. he throws it somewhere and unzips his pants. he pulls his cock out from his briefs, rubbing the tip up and down your slit. he teases your clit, tapping the tip against the poor bud.

you whine against his lips and buck your hips against his. he chuckles sweetly. (a noise only you get to hear from the sage) he presses the tip against your hole, making you furrow your brows. it’s a bit of a stretch, alhaitham realizes as he watches your face.

he reaches down to rub your puffy clit again, helping you ease into his cock. he hears you whimper and whine below him and he smiles against your skin. his lips leave a trail of wet kisses and bits down your neck and chest. he kisses around the areola of your chest. he elicits more whines and needy pants from you.

alhaitham leans up, looking down at your body. he gently pins your wrists about your head. his eyes are as soft as cotton. the sweet smile on his lips, the adoration in his eyes and the thin viel of sweat lining his forehead and collarbone make your heart flutter.

he’s gorgeous, tall, smart, handsome. he is the perfect man. he leans back down, kissing you on your lips. he hands leave your wrists, finding a new home on your hips. his thumbs run over the fat of your stomach, making you whine against him.

he smiles, thumbs pressing into the skin. if he had to pick a physical trait of yours he loved the most, it would be that. he pulls away from your lips, kissing down your body. he pays extra attention to your chest and tummy.

in the meantime, he’s been pushing himself slowly into your sweet, warm cunt. he sighs aloud as he sinks himself in. he watches as you rock your hips, needing him. he completely pulls out and then thrusts right back into, making you yelp.

he flips over, pulling you onto his lap. he watches as you bounce on his cock, hand pressed to his chest. you gasp and moan shamelessly as you bounce on his cock. his hands grope your stomach and thighs, squishing the skin between his big hands. he coos out sweet words,

“fuck, you’re gorgeous, mahiya. keep going, baby.” he rubs your clit with his thumb, “use me, baby. do it,” and you do just that. your eyes fill with tears as you curl into alhaitham. you hide your face in his neck, shamelessly moaning. alhaitham feels your cunt clench around his cock.

“there you go, sweetie. use me, honey. come on,” his eyes watch your tits intensely. he leans up, his lips wrapping around the hardened buds.

“oh fuck, haitham! ‘m gna!” you grip onto his shoulders, vision spotting. he feels your cunt clench around him hard and smiles,

“my good girl. you can do it. come on, baby. cum on me, use me.” the coil in your stomach snaps the moment he calls you his good girl. you gasp and sink your nails into his shoulder. alhaitham hisses and rubs your clit a little faster. he pushes you over the edge and your cum hard.

your mouth is agape, but you can’t hear yourself moan. you collapse into alhaitham’s chest, face buried in his neck. with a few more thrusts, he too cums inside you with a deep groan.

he watches as you push yourself off of him and lay on your back beside him. he rolls onto his side, kissing your neck and cheeks. he gets up from your bed, making you look up at him puzzled. he sinks onto his knees as he parts your thighs.

“time to clean up, yeah?”

welt yang:

sitting in the same position for a multitude of hours at a time is a grueling task. you love welt dearly, but this is your least favorite request of his. you impatiently fidget with your fingers, knees starting to feel numb.

the older gentleman sits in front of you, sketching out every curve and dimple in your bare body. your cheeks flush deeply as you avoid eye contact with him. he puts his pencil down before calling out to you,

“darling, could you please put your hands down?” he asks you with the softest smile. the creases around his eyes are ever more evident. shyly, you nod your head. you reluctantly place your hands back in position before staring around the room. he lightly chuckles,

“and look at me as well? i cannot sketch your face if you do not look at me.” he is obviously teasing you, but it’s all lighthearted. your lips pout softly before staring up at him with furrowed brows.

“you can’t remember my face?” your voice comes out meeker than intended. he shakes his head, before beckoning you over. with pins and needles sticking into your limbs, you walk over to welt who coaxes you into his lap.

“of course i remember it. i just want to see it. can you do that for me? be my good girl?” he whispers those words into your ears before kissing your shoulder.

“is that a simple enough task for you, honey?” he jests, his grip on your hips tightening. he begins to run his hands up and down you body. he squeezes the fat between his fingers, his lips kissing down you chest and neck.

you sigh into his touch, finally able to feel some warmth. the ac makes your skin burst into goosebumps. welt smiles as he watches you melt into his touch.

“i prefer you like this actually. having you sitting on my lap instead of in the floor, it’s more my style.” him and his stupid puns. you giggle into his neck, the ends of his hair tickling you face. you twirl the ends with your fingers, smiling widely.

he swivels in his chair, turning towards the bed. he lifts you up, hands holding under your thighs. you yelp, arms coiling around his neck. he softly lays you down on the bed. cooing softly at you. laying on his soft, grey sheets makes your eyes flutter shut.

you paw at his shirt, pulling him closer. you lips graze his chin, leaving kisses down his jawline. he hums softly, adjusting his face to look at you, he kisses you soft lips, his mouth tasting like the orange candy he ate a few moments ago.

his hands run up and down your thighs, parting your legs. he grinds himself against your sticky cunt, brows furrowing in pleasure. his breathing becomes a little ragged. you tug at him again,

“welt please,” your whiny voice, accompanied with the way you run your fingers over his bulge has him keeling. he bends however you tell him to, do whatever you ask of him. he nods happily, pulling down the waistband of his sweats. he kneels between your legs as he runs a finger up and down you slit.

wet and sticky slick coats welt’s fingertips. you jerk your hips against his hand as the rough edges of his palm run over your clit. you whine into the pillow set beside you, fingers gripping onto the sheets.

he happily obliges to your silent wish and sinks his finger into your cunt. you happily moan for him, your walls fluttering around his finger. he groans as he watches his fingers sink into your heat.

he pistols his finger in and out of your cunt, curling it upwards once your slick gets onto his wedding ring. he sinks another finger into you, pulling a groan from you. it’s a bit of a stretch, but welt is a patient man.

“you’ve been such a good girl for me, honey. can you keep still for a bit here too? i’ll reward you, i promise, my little fawn.” your eyes flutter open to gaze at his handsome face. your pupils morph into hearts as you nod your head. he smiles fondly, patting your head with his free hand. “thank you, pup.” <3

jing yuan:

jing yuan’s back sticks to the headboard as his hears ring with the sound of your moans. he watches as you tits bounce in his face, pretty buds begging to be touched. his eyes rolls back ever so slightly when you circle your hips as you ride him. his hand grips your hip, the other attached to your ass.

he hums as you dig your nails into his shoulders, pussy clenching. his thumb rubs lazy circles over your clit. he listens to your whimpers and honey-glazed whines. you sing better than the birds that flock to him, you’re prettier than any person he’s ever seen, you’re so obedient.

being the luofu’s general, jing yuan has learned how to teach others. some people are driven by praise, other by rewards. his reward for you obedience is this: riding him until you’re satisfied. his hand gently cups your nape, bringing you closer to his face. the tip of his nose rubs against yours as he hears the squelches of your bodies.

he becomes astutely aware of how wet and warm you are. he’s very aware of the way your body reacts to his warm hands running up and down your sides. he chuckles at the goosebumps that break out on your skin as he whispers sweet praises in your ears. you curl into his body, shivering like a baby bird. he coos at your reactions,

“aren’t you so sweet, my angel?” he kisses up the side of your neck, nipping at your collarbone. “the sweetest little thing, huh?” his hands pull you impossibly closer to his body, his eyes now trained on where you two connect.

he notices the thick, sticky, white substance that rims the bade of his cock and smiles. “look at me, angel.” he says in that smooth voice of his. you’re too out of it to hear him. jing yuan tucks your hair behind your ears, kissing your wet cheeks.

“darling,” he nips at your ears. he watches the wheels turn in your head as you process his words. your bleary eyes look into his, unfocused and hazy. he grins cheshire, “enjoying yourself?” he asks small and simple questions. you nod your head slightly.

he decides to thrusts his hips up in an attempt to wake you up, and it does just that. he thrusts into your heat swiftly, watching your tits bounce. his pretty lips wrap around the under-stimulated buds, making you gasp.

“yuan,” you say meekly, pussy fluttering around him. he hums at you, his golden eyes looking up. he lets go of your breasts to coo at you once more.

“my precious girl, you’re doing so well.” he kisses your cheeks and lips before resting his back against the headboard once again. he allows you to use him however you please. you’ve been such a good girl, sitting by his feet at his desk and waiting for his attention.

“there ‘ya go, princess. you can do it, sweet girl.” jing yuan smiles <3

© ilyhaitanii - please do not repost, translate, or plagarize any of my content, and do not repost it to any other platforms.  

[strlingsav]

Hiiii Sav 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Could I request a Ghost x reader trope that's like... love based off forced proximity/ circumstances? Can be in their line of duty, fake marriage, but please get creative🫶🏼 and smut ofc!! Thank you for reading 😸

Hellooo! 🫶🏻

You most definitely can, enjoy!

Closer

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— A months-long assignment has landed you in isolation with Ghost.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

Your usual assignments were done alone. A few weeks, hunkered down in an abandoned site, surviving on MREs, cigarettes, and any alcohol you could find. They were the closest to a vacation you'd ever have, save for the uniform, guns and ammunition.

More often than not, you saved yourself from the warfare and stuck to surveillance. It was your specialty, a skill you'd turned into a career and notably so. John Price himself had requested you for the specially important recon mission, hearing talk from your past contracts about your detailed work.

In the past, you'd not opened yourself up to be recruited to a task force in hopes that you could keep some semblance of a normal life. Once you submerged yourself in your work, that went out the window. So you agreed, flew out to the location, and were dropped on a farm bordering a nearby city, of which Captain Price wanted more information. The rest was classified.

Not long after your arrival, you'd watched an armoured truck pull up the long gravel driveway. The soldier that jumped out, Ghost- as you'd learned to call him, was also assigned to your post. At first, you'd been irritated with Price for neglecting this detail, but once you'd learned that he was quiet and kept to himself, you didn't mind.

And he kept true to that fist impression. The introduction was short, hardly sweet, lacking emotion in his eyes and any effort in his voice. He towered above you, his body like that of a goddamn bear, and it made you nervous to share a house with him.

To say you didn't sleep with your pistol loaded would've been a lie- especially the first few nights alone with him. Of course, he insisted he'd keep to the first floor of the farmhouse, but you didn't trust the worn locks to keep a man his size out.

He took the night watch, often reminding you he had never been able to sleep, and was usually still awake during the day. Occasionally, he'd sneak off and rest for a few minutes, where you'd find him with his legs up on the aged sofa, hand across his face, soft snores on every exhale. It nearly made you smile the first time you saw it.

Your days were filled with quiet. Hours spent with your eyes peering through a pair of binoculars, jotting quick notes in the margins of already-full pages. Dates, times, movement, people, places. All of it, recorded, while Ghost played defence on the balcony, and lent an extra set of eyes.

You grew to enjoy the quiet. The deliberate looks while you passed each other, the knowing glances when you'd settle by the fireplace and eat your ready-made meals together. It was a silent routine that you'd perfected within the last few months. You eventually found yourself leaving the doors unlocked, putting away your pistol while you slept.

You began to nearly read each others' minds. Smooth, seamless interactions that made everyday pass with ease. Ghost was beginning to grow on you- the calming presence he offered, the endearing, mindless conversations that took place behind a bottle of bourbon. He even had a sense of humour- fucked as it was.

He was always willing to talk, to endure your mindless chatting every once-in-a-while. You'd not had an assignment with anyone else in a long time, and though your social skills were somewhat lacking, you could see Ghost becoming more comfortable. He enjoyed himself, actually.

"Price never told me, is this your first surveillance assignment?" You asked, setting the bourbon down on the table between you.

He shook his head, the skull staring back at you becoming a bit blurry under the influence. "Been other places before. Mostly infiltration, extraction, target searches, but not my first."

You sat back in your seat, your pyjama bottoms a laughable contrast to Ghost, who still sat in his uniform. You didn't think you'd seen him change, or whether he even owned civilian clothing.

You weren't usually so lax- didn't usually let your guard down after only a few months, but Ghost seemed to lure you in. You hoped it wouldn't prove to be a mistake.

"I do this a lot. Mostly alone," You replied, watching him intently as he lifted the bottle to his lips, and took a swig.

"Guess my bein' here throws you off, then." He swallowed.

"Not at all," You shook your head, your eyes watching him closely. "It's been surprisingly pleasant. I'm not as lonely as I usually am."

His gaze softened, acknowledging your compliment with a short nod. In truth, he'd grown fond of you too. Your little quirks, your sense of humour, even the way in which you organized yourself and your things day-to-day. Your appearance was just a perk. You hadn't caught him watching you, yet- he was sure you'd go back to locking your door if you had.

His watching wasn't entirely innocent, either. He'd catch glimpses of your thighs, your stomach; even your neck drove him mad. Shamefully, he'd finished to fabricated images of kneeling between those pyjama-clad thighs, watching your face contort with pleasure. Your gentle eyes and painfully inviting lips were always teasing him.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so close to a woman, lived with a woman. Regardless of whether it was an assignment, he began to feel comfortable in the abandoned house- like it was home. And as long as you were around, he found himself entirely distracted by you- whether it be your conversation or your face. So, your allusion to finding his company pleasant made his stomach flip.

"Still lonely though?" He inquired, his thighs spreading as he made himself comfortable on the rickety chair.

"You know how it is, I'm sure," You shrugged.

He did know. Fuck, did he ever know. But he wanted to hear you say it- hear you admit how lonely you are, how badly you missed being touched, kissed, fucked. It would make his intentions much less complicated.

"Not sure I do," He shook his head.

Your lips split into a grin- he was baiting you. You decided to give in, to see where it could lead.

"There are certain parts of you that'll always be lonely. Especially in our line of work." Your eyebrows raised.

His eyes pored into yours, watching you from beneath the yellowed kitchen light. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the wooden table, before he took another shot of bourbon. You rubbed your lips together- were you making more of his charcoal eyes staring you down, or was he imagining relieving some of the loneliness you so boldly talked about?

Your confidence had ultimately been increased with your drinking, and especially as his body language welcomed you in. Open arms, thighs spread, chest out.

"Doesn't always have to be that way," He said in return- optimism; unexpected but appreciated. His hips shifted again, sitting up straight as he subconsciously leaned in closer to you. "'M sure you've got options." Right there in front of you.

Was it an offer, or simply polite reassurance?

"Not as many as you'd think. And none as tempting as the one I shouldn't even be considering." You said, your eyes slowly lifting to his.

"What's stoppin' you?" His heart pounded in his chest as he awaited your response.

"Rules," You smiled softly.

You wondered if he had any idea you were referring to himself- surely he wasn't that oblivious. He had moved himself closer to you, watched your lips and tongue as you spoke- he was intrigued.

"Fuck the rules," He shrugged.

A deep breath in allowed you the momentary rush to stand to your feet and step toward him. You were close enough to cautiously lower yourself onto his lap, moving slowly until you were sure he was interested. His large hands flew to your waist as you planted yourself firmly. His expression- the little of which you could see, at least- remained unchanged. He wasn't oblivious.

His hands slid down your sides, gently caressing your hips before rounding your body and landing on your ass. He sighed quietly, almost unnoticeably- but his chest expanded and his grip tightened. A rough squeeze of your ass made you smile.

"Fuck the rules, then," You sighed, watching him grin.

He lifted a hand to your neck, long fingers tangling themselves in your hair, pulling your face closer to his so he could press his lips to yours. His mouth was warm and pleasant- just enough moisture on his lips to be soft to the touch. Your hands wrapped themselves around his shoulders, slowly inching closer as your kiss began to deepen.

His tongue slid against yours, forcing his way between your teeth and finding the soft, welcoming muscle of your tongue. He groaned, air exhaled from his nose fanning your cheeks. You returned the exhale, desperately sucking in air as his paw-like hands grabbed at your ass.

You couldn't help but grind forward, flinching subtly when his hands would palm your ass, or he'd so easily mould you against his body. His fingers were splayed out across your skin, calloused palms scratching the exposed flesh of your backside and thighs; his breaths became quicker with every slide of your hips over his groin.

You took note of what he seemed to enjoy- he was a bit rough, handled you with hint of carelessness and desperation, but you didn't mind. He was caught up in how your breasts felt against his chest, and how the curves of your body were so easy to glide his hands over.

Your fingers lifted the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, exposing your breasts. Ghost hardly blinked, his gaze falling to the supple flesh of your chest, nipples hardening with the impact of cool air.

"Christ," He mumbled to himself, especially hoarse and deep.

"Can I?" You asked softly, your hands reaching his shirt.

With a short nod, you lifted it over his head, revealing the physique of a hardened soldier- muscular, lean, bulky. Scars and burns acquired during his deployments flexed and rippled with his movements, his biceps popping up as he reached your hips with even greedier hands.

You'd stood to slide your shorts down your thighs, watching him lean forward to watch closely, to see every bit of you as best as possible. His eyes tracked from your breasts to your hips, eyeing the panties you wore, a single finger reaching out to hook beneath the fabric and tug it down.

In one fell swoop, his fingers slipped your panties off your hips. Before you could straddle him again, he stood to his feet, a hand wrapping around your waist and slowly turning you to his chest.

Goosebumps arose from your skin, his breath fanning the back of your neck, large hands holding you to his chest as his fingers crept toward your pussy.

"Been a long time?" He asked quietly, the rumble of his voice moving through his chest to your back. You shivered.

"Yeah," You nodded absently, arching your back, widening your stance when his finger reached between your folds. "A few years," You breathed, your head turning to find his eyes.

He leaned closer, his lips beside your ear as he simultaneously found your clit, applying the smallest amount of pressure to make your knees weaken.

"Stuck to doin' it yourself, yeah?"

Your cheeks flushed with heat, nodding slowly again, against his chest.

"Yes," You gulped.

"It ain't the same, is it?" He asked rhetorically, watching your nostrils flare, your tongue wet your lips as you writhed against him. "Don't get as wet when it's your own fingers?"

You shook your head.

"You're fuckin' wet now, sweetheart," He said, gruff and satisfied. "And I ain't hardly done anythin' yet."

You accepted his deduction, knowing he was right; it had been a long time, and it wasn't the same with your own fingers. Regardless, his warm body pressing against yours, his arms pinning you to him, his hard cock against your ass- he'd already done more than he even knew.

You whimpered quietly, dropping a few inches as he applied more pressure to your clit, working in circles while his lips clung to your neck. You tilted your head, allowing him more access, and wrapped an arm around his neck.

You breathed out, collapsing against his hold, letting him have his way with your pussy. You tried to hold out, to keep yourself composed, but the long, thick fingers rubbing short circles over your clit were going to cut your willpower short. His hand gripped your hip, pulling you against him, encouraging you to grind your ass over his cock.

You did- slow movements as you simultaneously ground your hips against his fingers. His breathing had picked up in your ear, harsh exhales as he held your body in his hands. You felt his breaths fan your neck, goosebumps appearing over your skin.

His consistent pace and gentle pressure made it easy to lose every other thought and focus solely on how his actions felt. Not longer after, he'd slid finger inside you, his breath hitching subtly at the feel of your insides. Warm, silky- enveloping him like a well-cushioned bed.

"Fuck, you feel good," He cursed. "You close?" He asked, feeling your thighs tremble.

You could only nod, focusing on the rough actions of his thumb, rubbing over your clit, and his fingers curling gently inside you. Your lips parted in an effort to suck in a breath, eyes shut, savouring the build-up and moments between where utter pleasure only began to spark. It didn't take much longer, your hands holding into his arms for stability as you came over his hand.

He slowly slid his fingers from you, satisfied with the trembling, weakened mess he'd made you into. His hands gently guided you against the table, pressing your chest against the cold wood.

You exhaled sharply, feeling his palm brush down your neck, then your back, before rounding your ass and leaving a gentle smack against your plush cheek.

You twitched, unsuspecting of Ghost kneeling behind you, parting your pussy to watch the liquid arousal seep out of you. You were still convulsing, when his tongue slid against you, his lips slurping against you.

A deep grumble of appreciation left his lips, vibrating through you. Your voice was hoarse, a moan squeezed out of your lungs that bounced off the table and rang loud in your ears.

"Y'alright?" He asked, accompanied by the sound of a belt buckle and zipper being undone.

You nodded, contorting your body to watch as his jeans dropped past his hips and his cock fell from his briefs. Your eyes widened when you felt him against you- he was bigger than anticipated, and you feared the consequences of being abstinent for so many years.

Surprisingly, as he slid in, your natural lubricant allowed him to enter you with ease. The stretch still stung, a quick sensation that made your body shudder. Your hands reached out before you, gripping the table as he filled you, his hips meeting your ass.

"Sorry, love," He muttered, "So goddamn tight."

"Keep going," You whispered, your body moving to watch him again as he thrusted the first few times.

His hands slid up your back, before settling on the curve of your waist. The leverage allowed him to get a better stance, and he bent down to meet your eye-line while his cock slowly penetrated you.

His other hand moved to grasp the back of your neck, his thumb on your jugular, eyes raking over your body but especially the view of his cock sliding in and out. It didn't last long, not when he reached beneath you to flick his fingers across your clit.

You sucked in a breath, letting out a short cry at the overstimulation.

"Was thinkin' about you, like this," He grunted. "Cunt spread open on my cock, that pretty face when you take it."

He was hoarse too, out of breath as his cock slipped in and out, his fingers still working at massaging your clit.

"Take it whenever you want," You pushed out, taking in a deep breath. "Just don't stop."

"Don't say that," He groaned. "Fuck- don't say that."

"I mean it-" You whispered, your eyes filling with tears, landing your cheek against the table. "'S yours," You whispered again. "All yours."

His hips stuttered, pulling his cock out of you before you felt warm liquid land on your back. You shivered again, feeling empty and exposed as he backed away.

He grabbed the nearest cloth, wiping it swiftly over your backside before you spun around to face him.

He arranged himself, doing his belt back up and adjusting the mask over the bridge of his nose.

"Get up," He said, gesturing for you to sit on the table, one hand around your waist.

"I meant it," Your eyes drifted up and down his body, your hand on his chest preventing him from lifting you. "Now that we have, we may as well take advantage."

Ghost stood quiet for a moment, as if thinking over your deal. He nodded, subtly at first, so subtle you hadn't even noticed, but then he agreed.

"Alright. Now- get on the table, 'n' spread those legs. Been wantin' t'taste you."

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 4,988 Pairing: Negan Smith x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria, after the war, Negan is imprisoned Warnings: language, innuendo (duh, it's Negan), injury, fear and anxiety, frightening scenarios Summary: Returning after the run, Daryl gives Negan a talking to and things between Negan and the reader seem like they may have changed. A/N: oh shit, oh sHIT, OH SHIT Previous part

“Well, here we are again,” you sighed, tugging open the door of Negan’s cell.

“Home, sweet home,” he quipped, staring inside. He rubbed a hand over his short hair briefly, hesitating only for a moment before he stepped inside and turned to stand in the space where the door would soon close. “Can’t exactly say I’m glad to be back.”

You had your own mixed feelings again as you shut the door and the thunk of the heavy metal latch slid into place, securely locking him inside. What would be required for him to truly earn the next step of more freedom? He’d stayed when he could have run. Surely that was something, but uncertainty churned in your stomach. You paused, one of your hands coming to grip one of the bars. You could almost taste the tension like smoke in the air. “I—I just wanted to say—”

“—that you had a fucking amazing time out there with me and you’re completely heartbroken to see it end?” he interrupted, smiling at you. “Oh, and you regret not jumpin’ my bones while you had the chance, of course.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help smiling a little yourself. “I wanted to say thank you. I’m fully aware that the entire situation could’ve been—you could’ve made it much worse. You could’ve left. Hell, you could’ve probably killed me if you wanted to…”

Negan’s expression grew serious. “Like I said before, I don’t want to hurt you. And I have no intention of doing so.”

“Negan, if it came down to me or your freedom—”

“I wouldn’t,” he said strongly. “I already chose to stay, didn’t I? I’m—not even entirely sure why myself,” he laughed dryly. “Might regret that when I’m staring at these same four fuckin’ walls again in a few minutes.”

You felt your cheeks warm with an inexplicable flush again and you had to break the gaze between the two of you. “Well,” you said, dropping your grip on the bar, “thank you, Negan.”

He couldn’t help smiling when you said his name and he leaned forward on the bars now himself at the same moment you drew back. “Have I told you that I love the sound of my name leaving your lips, darlin’? Say it again,” he grinned. “I’m gonna imagine all kinds of scenarios in my head where you’re sayin’ my name as soon as you’re out of here…”

“Stop,” you reprimanded him.

“Aw, come on! You’ve gotta give me a little play here. Was I not a total gentleman on the outside? I kept my hands completely to myself on our dinner date.”

“Dinner date? That’s what you’re going to call heating up MREs while we were trapped in a basement with a mummified dead guy?”

He rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face, chuckling a little. “Yeah! It seems pretty on-brand for the apocalypse. And by the way—don’t think I wasn’t tempted to get a little handsy. You were wearing my spare layer after all, and it’s only natural that I thought about what it’d be like to take it off of you and keep going.”

“Enough, Negan!” you snapped, completely aware that your face had to be bright red from the feeling of the heat washing over you. “Jesus!”

“Too far?” he asked, still grinning.

You ignored him. “Daryl is gonna bring you lunch.”

“Daryl? Wait—why?”

You were already heading toward the door but you turned to look back at him, continuing your progress out with a few backwards steps. You shrugged. “Dunno. He said he wanted a word with you.”

Negan swore under his breath. “Shit… He’s probably gonna give me another lecture.”

You smiled and shrugged. “Probably. I’d behave if I were you, if you ever hope to see four different walls again. I’ll see you this evening.”

“Hey! Wait!” he called after you once more as your hand was on the door. “You should go get that hand looked at. Even if they can’t stitch it, you should make sure it’s not infected! I mean look at the state of the bandage, doll.”

You did glance down at it and it was grey with dirt and dust. “Yeah, alright. I will. I’ll see you this evening, okay?”

It wasn’t long before Daryl came thudding into the room with a tray for Negan. Negan looked up from his seat on his cot and rested his book (one of the ones you’d brought for him) over his knee.

The archer put the tray down and kicked it through the slot a little abruptly, sloshing some of the water out of the cup. Negan cast his eyes up toward Daryl’s scowl. He saw the muscle in his jaw tense. He couldn’t help smiling at him. “Problem?” he asked.

“Might be,” Daryl drawled, crossing his arms, “if ya ain’t careful.”

“Oh, I’m always careful, Daryl,” Negan said, leaning back as if at his ease.

“I saw the way ya were lookin’ at Y/N out there today.”

The smile on Negan’s face faded slowly. “How was I looking?”

“You know how and I know how,” Daryl growled, pointing at him emphatically through the bars.

Negan shrugged and tried to play it off, but his heart was hammering nervously in his chest.

“I dunno what happened out there or what you think is happenin’ with Y/N, but ya better watch yerself, asswipe. If I hear of the slightest thing that’s off, if I suspect any of this ‘good behavior’ shit is an act, tha’s it. It’ll be the end of all your free time outside of these bars. Ya can rot in here for all I care. Ain’t like ya dun deserve to. And if I find out that yer tryin’ to pull some bullshit over on Y/N, if yer tryin’ to manipulate yer way outta this cell—I’ll kill ya myself.” His blue eyes were fierce and sharp and Negan gulped uneasily beneath them.

“Daryl—”

“Nah,” he snapped. “I dun give a shit about a thing ya gotta say. ‘M just warnin’ ya, Negan. Got it?”

Negan licked his lips and nodded. “Yeah. Oh, I’ve got it hotrod,” he said, following it up with a smirk, just to annoy Daryl.

“Good.” And he stalked out.

The day got away from you, mainly from sorting through the supplies, helping with the rationing, and getting yourself cleaned up after the long ordeal outside the walls and a little better rested. It was already evening before you remembered you’d meant to stop into the clinic about your hand. Anyone in the clinic surely would have left for the night already, and since it wasn’t a pressing issue, you decided instead to change the dressing yourself and check in with Siddiq in the morning.

Instead, you got a tray of food ready and headed back down the dim street toward the jail. When the door swung open you saw Negan standing at the small window of his cell, trying to perhaps soak in the last bit of light as the sun went down. He had his small lantern lit already and it cast everything in a warm orange glow. He turned at the sound of your footsteps and greeted you with a small smile before ambling over toward the cell door, hands in his pockets.

“You alright?” you asked, sensing something in the air.

“Peachy, doll,” he said. “Daryl and I had a swell chat earlier.”

You sighed heavily and gave him an apologetic look. “I hope he wasn’t too tough on you. I told him you were a huge help outside the walls.”

“Oh, he just threatened to kill me again is all,” Negan said, sinking down on the floor close to the door, fiddling with the empty water cup on the tray. “No big deal.”

You set his full dinner tray down on the chair beside you and copied his position on the floor outside the bars. “He’s—just protective. We’ve been through a lot together.”

Negan chuckled. “Protective is an understatement,” he said, scratching at his beard thoughtfully, leaning back with his palms on the cold floor. “I can’t blame him though. A guy like me with a history like mine? I probably deserve more than a little threatening.”

You gulped, feeling torn about agreeing with him or not, so you stayed silent. That divided feeling that sat somewhere deep in your chest was becoming familiar. There was a beat of silence and Negan could read worry on your face. He wanted to pull you out of it.

“Hey—you look great, doll,” he said softly. It was almost a whisper.

You glanced up at him, one of your eyebrows arching up in a question. Then you glanced down at yourself and laughed. “I showered and changed into clean clothes. It’s not like I’m in a ballgown, Negan.”

“You don’t need to be. I’d take you covered in walker guts if the opportunity presented itself,” he said with a grin.

You winced. “Gross,” you retorted. “I think you have issues.”

“Unequivocally,” he agreed. “Doesn’t mean what I said isn’t true.”

You shook your head and sighed a little. Over his shoulder, you noticed the book sitting open on his cot. “Which one did you go for?” you asked, nodding toward it.

“Oh, the western, of course. Cowboys and damsels in distress? Shoot-outs? ‘This town ain’t big enough for the both of us?’ Fuck yeah,” he said, glancing back at you, still smiling. “Thanks again, for bringing me those by the way. It’s a big improvement over the one I’ve read fifteen fuckin’ times.”

You hated that you noticed the crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled and the deep dimples in his cheeks, nearly hidden in the scruff of his beard. You ducked your head, nodding and trying to clear your throat of the inexplicable tightness that had materialized there. “No problem.” Your eyes landed again on the lunch tray sitting by the slot. You were about to reach for it when you caught sight of the pebbly red shapes still on the plate. You frowned. “You didn’t touch your raspberries,” you said, nodding toward the tray in front of Negan.

“Yeah, actually, I saved them for you,” he said, nodding toward them. “You said they’re your favorite and since the crop was bad this year from the drought... you should have them. You deserve them more than me.” He nudged his tray slightly back toward the slot so you’d be able to reach them if you slipped your hand through.

You looked at him curiously for a moment, a little surprised by this particular consideration, and then reached your hand through to grab one. Before your fingers could touch the ruby red fruit, you let out a small gasp of surprise as Negan’s hand closed softly around yours. He hadn’t moved quickly. On the contrary, it was slow and fluid but you were somehow still shocked by the sudden contact. His touch was warm and gentle. His thumb smoothed over the back of your hand and slipped underneath to your palm. He turned your hand palm up so it rested in his and his thumb traced the lines from your wrist up toward your fingertips then drifted back down and pressed lightly into the concave center of your palm and ghosted up the graceful shape of your thumb. You were frozen, stunned by his touch, your lips slightly parted and your eyes a little wide, a little hesitant and questioning. You felt as if your heart had stopped and your lungs refused to work. You were finally able to tear your eyes from your hand in his, back up to meet his gaze. His expression, his hazel eyes were astonishingly soft.

“‘M sorry, doll. I didn’t mean to startle you. I couldn’t help myself,” he whispered, drawing his hand back from yours. His eyes searched yours, trying to read what you were thinking. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that since I bandaged up that other hand of yours. You have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve really had any human touch?” Your hand hovered in the air for a moment once his fingers left, and Negan picked up the remaining berries and dropped them into your palm. Your skin was still tingling from the contact and you couldn’t be sure if your heart was beating or not.

You blinked, trying to break whatever spell had settled over you, and then hurriedly grabbed his empty tray and got to your feet, nearly stumbling back from the bars.

Negan rose slowly, watching you carefully, suddenly anxious. “You alright, doll? Was that—”

“I’m fine,” you cut him off quickly. “I just—I should go,” you said hastily. You grabbed the tray with his evening meal off the chair beside you and pushed it through the slot where it hit the toes of Negan’s boots.

He nodded, his eyes narrowed as he tried to read what was going on in your head. “Okay. Hey—before you go, what’d the doc say about your sliced up hand anyway?”

“Oh, uhh—I didn’t get over there today. Just—got busy. I’ll go by in the morning,” you said, already backing out toward the door.

Negan nodded. You looked half-frantic and he felt another pang of anxiety. Perhaps that had been too much… “Y/N—Look, I’m sorry if that was—”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m fine! It’s all fine,” you said hurriedly, your heart racing now. You felt slightly light-headed.

“Are you sure? Because I think you turned those raspberries into jam,” Negan said, glancing down at your hand and there was red juice dripping out between your fingers and dotting the floor. In the low light, you could’ve mistaken it for blood.

“Shit,” you swore, looking at the remnants in your hand. “Fuck me, what a mess… I—I’ll clean that up… later.”

Negan watched, perplexed and worried as you hurriedly left without another word, his brow furrowed heavily over his hazel eyes. Fuck. Had he royally fucked up? Maybe he’d be seeing Daryl sooner rather than later…

_ _ _ _ _ _

You’d hardly slept. You were overwhelmed by what you’d felt when Negan had simply held your hand in his, had run his fingers over the underside of your wrist and across the back of your hand. Your stomach was churning and you were unsettled all night, tossing and turning on your mattress and staring up at the ceiling watching the shadows change while sleep evaded you.

Fuck. This was a mess. What the fuck were you thinking? No—better question: what the fuck were you feeling? This was Negan. The man who had psychologically tormented your entire group, who had wielded the bat and murdered two of your beloved family members in front of you, who had tortured Daryl and nearly starved your community, who had ordered his men to shoot your people with poisoned arrowd.

But another voice answered. He’s not the same though, is he? He’s not him. Not anymore. You know he’s different.

It doesn’t matter. He still did all those things.

It does matter. Or do you not believe in redemption? In rehabilitation? In hope? If there’s no chance of redemption, shouldn’t you all have just killed him after the war? Why keep him alive now if there’s no future for him even if he is changed?

Fuck!

You kicked the covers off and rubbed your hands over your face as you sat up on the edge of the bed. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You looked down at the bandage on your hand and remembered his concern outside the walls, not just for himself but for you. And he stayed. Surely that meant something.

Fuck.

You headed into the bathroom and poured some water into the basin, splashing it as best you could over your face with your uninjured hand. Better just start the day. Sleep wasn’t coming. You just needed to put what you felt, whatever that was that you felt, aside and do your job. Compartmentalize. You could do that. Right? You were wracked with self-doubt. Maybe you should stop before this went any farther… Maybe you should go back to Michonne and Daryl and tell them—tell them… what? That you somehow were developing feelings for Negan? Fuck. No. No, you couldn’t do that. You could handle this. It wasn’t a big deal. It was one touch. You could compartmentalize. It’d all be fine…

Your train of thought was interrupted by a throbbing in your injured hand and you were grateful it gave you something else to focus on. Right. You’d better get it checked out. You pulled on some clothes and headed for the clinic.

The door was unlocked, which was a good sign that at least someone was in. You heard movement from the back as you walked in and Dante called out, “I’ll be right there!” from somewhere among the supply shelves.

You paced around for a moment and finally settled against a nearby exam table. He came breezing out in his white coat with a clipboard in his hand and greeted you with a smile.

“Sorry about that! Inventory, you know? Still my least favorite chore, but pretty important nowadays. So, what brings you in?”

“Oh, um, is Siddiq here by chance?” you asked. You knew Siddiq well from the council and generally were more comfortable with him.

Dante clicked his tongue. “He’s not in yet. Between the two of us, I’m the earlier riser so I usually come in first. Must be left over from my time in the military,” he explained with a good-natured smile. “If you’d like to come back later today, he’ll be in for sure. Otherwise, I’m happy to help now if you’re comfortable with that.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s no big deal. We’re just close from the council and everything. Thought I’d say hi. I’d rather just get it looked at, I guess. It’s just this gash on my hand from the run the other day and I just figured I should get it checked out and make sure it’s not infected or anything.”

“Alright,” he said, grabbing a pair of gloves and pulling them on. “Let’s take a look.” You started to unwrap the bandage as he set out a few items. “What’d you cut it on?” he asked.

“A sharp corner or something on a metal bracket,” you said.

“Oof,” he said, peeling off the last bit of gauze as the injury came into view. “Got yourself pretty good there! Well, let’s clean it up and have a look. This may sting a bit.”

“We flushed it out and cleaned it after it happened. It did take a while for it to stop bleeding. I was worried it'd need stitches.”

“I’m not surprised! It’s pretty deep!” he said, tossing aside the used alcohol swabs. “Any pain still? I mean, when you aren’t bumping it or trying to use this hand?” he asked, giving you a knowing look.

You shrugged. “Maybe a bit. It’s throbbing a little this morning. It’s not infected, is it?”

He examined it more closely and finally sighed and shook his head. “I don't think you have an infection, no, but it does look a little inflamed and irritated. You should be taking it easy with this,” he instructed you. “Try to limit use while it’s healing. And I’m gonna give you some anti-inflammatory pain meds that should help with any discomfort and the swelling—”

“Oh, no. Really, it’s not bad. I’m fine,” you tried to argue.

He smiled and shook his head. “Always having to act like a badass, Y/N. You and Daryl! Never taking medical advice,” he laughed. “Come on. Doctor’s orders,” he said. “I’ll be right back with them. Trust me. It’ll help.” He returned quickly with a cup of water and a couple pills for you.

You relented, seeing that he was going to insist, and took them before he re-dressed your hand.

“Big plans today?” he asked, skillfully finishing the bandaging with clean dressings.

You shook your head. “No. The usual. I need to head over to get Negan’s breakfast to him.”

“Good. That shouldn’t be too strenuous on the hand,” he laughed. “Alright. All finished up. Do you want me to let Siddiq know you were looking for him?” he asked, pulling off his gloves.

You waved him off. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m sure we’ll bump into each other soon. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem. And I mean it, take it easy with that hand! Let it heal up! Come back and see me if you have any more problems.” You waved goodbye to Dante and thanked him once more before you left. Alexandria was just starting to wake up, and you headed to grab a few things from the pantry and prepared something to take down to Negan. You wondered if he was even awake yet. He hadn’t slept while you’d been outside the walls. He might be sleeping still. Maybe you should wait… The sun was just streaking the morning sky with pinks and oranges. Your stomach flipped as you again thought of what had happened last night and you did your best to swallow down your anxiety. Were you just trying to postpone seeing him? You groaned internally at yourself.

Fuck it. What did it matter if he was awake or not? You had his damn breakfast ready you might as well just drop it off.

You unlocked the outside door and pushed inside. Turns out, he was already awake, laying on his back on his cot and bouncing a tennis ball off the wall and catching it on the rebound. He sat up hastily as you came in and looked at you hesitantly, like he was trying to read your expression carefully.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Hi,” you returned. You set the full tray down on the chair outside his cell and retrieved the one sitting empty from the night before. Negan got up and slowly wandered toward the bars, tossing the tennis ball back and forth between his hands. You swapped out the empty tray for the one with his breakfast on it and straightened up, surprised to see him maybe a little over a mere foot from you, separated only by the bars. His eyes were flickering over your face and his expression was heavy and serious. You cleared your throat and gulped. “What?” you asked nervously.

“I just wanted to say—about last night—”

You lifted a hand to cut him off. “Negan—”

“—if that was too much or too sudden or—I’m sorry if—”

“Negan, let’s just forget about it,” you said, crossing your arms and avoiding his brilliantly hazel eyes.

He stopped trying to talk over you and licked his lips, pursing them thoughtfully for a moment. Your posture was guarded, but he forged ahead anyway. “Is that what you want? To forget about it?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “Is that what you want?” he asked again.

Just answer. Why couldn’t you get the answer out. Just say ‘yes.’ “I—”

His eyes were still flickering between yours and then journeying down to your lips. Your heart started to pound in your chest. “It’s just a simple question, doll. If that’s what you want—” he shrugged, “then we’ll forget about it.”

You were trying to answer, trying to dredge up a response when you suddenly felt dizzy and lifted a hand to your head, squeezing your eyes shut. You felt sick. You felt off. Something wasn’t right.

“…Doll?”

You reached out to grip one of the bars of Negan’s cell to steady yourself. It felt like the floor was slanting.

“Hey, hey—look at me, darlin’. What’s going on?”

You shook your head in an attempt to clear the growing fog. “I—I don’t know. I feel—dizzy and—”

Negan’s alarm increased as all the color seemed to drain from your face in an instant. “Hey, why don’t you sit down? You don’t look so good. Y/N? Can you hear me?”

Negan’s voice sounded like it was coming out of a drain in another room. It was warped and muffled and your equilibrium seemed to have all but disappeared. You were having a hard time keeping your eyes open and staying on your feet. The whole room was tilting.

“Hey! Y/N? Talk to me! Can you hear me? Sit down! You look like you’re about to faint! Look at me, darlin’!”

But Negan watched with horror as your body suddenly went limp and you pitched forward. He did what he could to try to stop your fall through the bars, but there wasn’t much he could do. He was in no position to be able to support you as you fell. Despite his best efforts, your head collided with a bar near the bottom of his cell and then you lay still on your stomach, crumpled on the floor.

“Oh, fuck! Shit! Y/N?” Negan shoved his tray out of the way and knelt down, reaching through the bars to caress your hair away from your face and lightly pat your cheek in an attempt to rouse you. “Y/N, you’ve gotta wake up, doll! Come on! Wake up! Open those beautiful eyes and look at me!” He gently lifted your head and his stomach clenched as he saw blood running down the side of your face and dripping onto the floor. “Open your eyes, darlin’! Look at me! Come on!” There was no response from you, no sign that you could hear him or were at all coming back to consciousness. “Fuck! Fuck!!” he growled, panicked, looking around for something to help—but how could he? He was locked in a fucking cell.

That’s it! Keys! You had to have your keys! Maybe he could get them and get out and help you—get you to help. He was about to start patting your pockets when he caught sight of them out of the corner of his eye sitting on the seat of the chair outside his cell, well out of reach.

“Fuck!” He hung his head, his mind spinning frantically. “Y/N? Come on, you’ve gotta wake up!” He gently shook you by your shoulder, but still, you didn’t rouse. He trained his eyes on your back and could at least see that your breathing seemed steady, if a little shallow. He was afraid to move you too much. He rushed to the small window. “HEY! HELP! WE NEED HELP IN HERE!” he roared as loud as he could, banging on the glass, but unless someone happened to walk by, there was little hope of anyone hearing him through the thick pane. The window was shut and locked up tightly. “FUCK!”

“Okay… Okay,” he breathed, rubbing his hands over his face. “Keys. I have to get the keys… what can I—what can I use?” He stood and searched his cell. He had nothing. He had nothing that could reach… He needed something long enough to reach the chair and it wasn’t like he had a walking stick or wire hangers or even a goddamn belt in his cell. His eyes finally settled on his cot. He quickly snatched the wool blanket off the top and ran back to the bars. He extended his arm out between two of the bars as far as he could and flipped the blanket up onto the seat of the chair. It landed on his empty evening tray which you’d set aside there. He pulled back slowly and the tray moved slightly before the blanket slid off. The keys were still sitting behind the tray near the back edge of the seat. He had to be careful not to knock them off the back… if he did, it’d be completely hopeless.

He tried again with the blanket, frantically. And again. And again. And, finally, the tray fell to the floor with a clatter, but your heavy ring of keys was sitting stubbornly still.

He constantly stopped and checked on you, called your name, smoothed his hand over your hair, and tried to wake you. But you stayed totally still, unconscious. He grabbed another blanket off his bed and cushioned your head but was too afraid to try to move you much more.

He returned to the wool blanket and had just flicked it onto the chair again when the outside door pushed in. Negan froze and looked up at the figure that had just entered. At first, he felt a wash of relief. “Hey—doc! You’ve gotta help her. She just collapsed—fainted or something,” he said, straightening up. “It wasn’t me, I swear. I don't know what the hell happened.” He dropped his blanket by his side and gripped onto the bars, his voice and expression urgent.

But Dante didn’t rush into action. Instead, he stared down at your crumpled figure on the floor and then casually checked the time on his watch. Negan looked on, confused, as Dante smiled.

“What the hell are you doing?” Negan demanded. "You're suppose to help her!"

“She’s right on time,” Dante said, casually pacing forward to stand over you.

Negan’s teeth clenched together. “Aren’t you going to help her?!” he asked, incredulous.

Dante only laughed, a chilling sound, and walked over to the chair, scooping up your ring of keys off the seat. “Were you trying for these?” he asked, jingling them at Negan.

Negan stared back, a heavy shadow falling over his face. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I was.”

[dadvans]

chick flick moments (bucktommy)

[i can’t stop thinking about tommy’s favorite movie being Love, Actually.]

Tommy hasn’t really talked or seen his family in roughly twenty years. His firefighting career has never been enough, if they were ever keeping tabs, to make up for his dishonorable discharge. And honestly, it’s been fine with him. His family has always been the suffocating kind of conservative and earning their love stopped being a hill he would choose to die on for longer than they’ve been radio silent.

Someone is keeping tabs though, or maybe the news of his recent heroics have a broader reach than he thought, because a few months after getting a medal for the cruise liner disaster response, someone reaches out. Tommy is hesitant to engage because he’s pretty happy without them in his life, but maybe at first it was a cousin or uncle, but that’s followed by one of his sisters trying to get into contact, followed by his mom, followed by his dad. And they’re persistent. Maybe they do want to make amends. And maybe he doesn’t need his blood family but there’s that tiniest part of him left that still wants that connection.

This is how he gets suckered into the most miserable Christmas dinner of his life. It’s not actually Christmas, it’s a few days before when the whole clan can get together, and it’s just as claustrophobic and awful as ever, every word spoken saturated in judgment and triple meanings that Tommy long since has lost the muscle to withstand.

Evan had wanted to come with him, said a whole bunch of shit about how they were PARTNERS, and how it could not be nearly as bad as his own parents were, but Tommy’s extended family holiday dinners are like a Los Angeles Miserable People convention crowded between the dining room and kitchen tables, and Evan’s still licking some wounds after surviving Gerrard’s brief yet nightmarish tenure back at the 118, maybe next time. This first round Tommy needs to do solo. So, Evan drops him off around the corner in the afternoon with a promise to come pick him up later that night.

Evan checks in with him pretty frequently, sending him stupid videos and things he finds on the internet, but Tommy gets hit immediately by some pretty barbed comments about being a grown man on his phone who doesn’t give a shit about the olive branch he’s being offered, so he stops checking so much.

Finally, halfway through too many glasses of wine and an early evening roast that make his memories of MREs seem like a pleasant dream, his phone starts going off pretty insistently. It’s Evan.

The doorbell is about to ring and i need you to be the one to answer it.

Well, that’s worrisome. He’s pretty close to the hallway though, so he types back: ok.

The doorbell rings. He shoves away from the table, waving everyone else back down. “I’ll get it.”

Evan is at the door. He has his phone out with a little plug-in speaker, and oh God, a stack of cue cards—

Unbelievable. “What are you doing.”

Evan enthusiastically hits play on his phone and as tinny Christmas music starts to play, holds up the first card: TELL THEM IT’S CAROLERS

He shakes his head. “Evan, even if they believed me, they would probably love that and would come check it out.”

“Tommy, who’s at the door?” His uncle calls from the dining room.

Tommy rolls his eyes and shouts back, “Planned Parenthood asking for donations!”

“Tell ‘em were eating dinner and to get the fuck out of here!”

Tommy looks at Evan pointedly, eyebrows raised, hands in pockets as if to say: well?

Evan flips to the next few cue cards:

I NEVER SAW THIS MOVIE BEFORE YOU MADE ME WATCH IT flip AND HONESTLY IT WASNT THAT GOOD flip BUT TO ME YOU ARE WORTH IT

“Evan,” Tommy says, softening.

AND I KNOW YOU THINK YOU ARE PROTECTING ME BY TELLING ME TO STAY HOME flip AND THOUGH WHATEVER IS GOING ON CAN’T BE AS BAD AS WATCHING LOVE, ACTUALLY flip OR HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS flip OR THE WEDDING PLANNER flip OR 50 FIRST DATES flip (I ACTUALLY LIKED FORGETTING SARAH MARSHALL) flip I WANTED TO CHECK IN

Evan fumbles the cards to the hand holding his phone to pull something out of his back pocket, a piece of paper he gives Tommy, before flipping to the next card: I MADE THIS RANSOM NOTE IF YOU NEED TO BE KIDNAPPED flip AND WE CAN GET OUT OF HERE

It’s easily the stupidest grand gesture anyone’s ever directed at Tommy. He looks over the piece of paper, words threateningly put together cut out from Evan’s copies of Food & Wine and Men’s Health. He nods to himself, smiling, then looks up at Evan who is cheesing back.

“Yeah,” he says, feels for his phone and wallet in his pocket, before dropping the paper to the welcome mat and stepping outside, ready to escape back home to the only family he needs.

[guppybibi]

Late WIP Wednesday ..

(aaa km not sure if i should finish this, it started off strong but just fell off and now my brain isnt working)

Simon’s home & marriage was his refuge, until it wasn't. He knew something wasn't right when you were coincidentally prepared for his return, all dolled up when you greeted him with an “I miss you” kiss. No, he was sure it wasn't you when he saw that the dinner table was prepared with a generous spread of food on it.

There was no reason for you to come this prepared, everytime he comes home from deployment is a surprise. So..how exactly are you this ready? It didn't sit right with him, the whole thing felt like it came out of a painfully obvious scripted reality TV show.

But food was food and after countless weeks spent eating barely edible MRE’s, a home cooked meal was all he needed. Sluggishly, he sat down at his unsaid designated spot at the dinner table. He closely watched if you would sit down at your designated spot, if you didn't; that’d explained a lot. You do end up sitting at your spot, it wasn't all that hard to do though. Dinner with you was unsettling to say the least, all of the small talk you were making felt forced, it’s barely been an hour and he already feels like he's going crazy.

He knows more than to question you upfront though, having gone through enough interrogations to know that he should take his time and that you could get hostile if things don't go your way. You could be a threat for all he knew, and it's better to be safe than sorry. Unsure if it was the right decision, he starts out some sort of small talk himself, asking you some seemingly innocent questions.

“What were yer up to while I was gone, luv?” He asks mid chew. “Oh not much, I just picked up a new hobby actually. Clay sculpting! I've been watching online tutorials, I could say I’ve been getting the hang of it if I do say so myself.” Liar, was all he could think while he subconsciously nodded to your words. You hated clay, not fond of the texture it had and the way it’d get stuck under your nails. Perhaps it was another one of your impulsive decisions, jumping into conclusions should be the last thing he should be doing. It could cost him more harm than good, so he lets it slide. For now at least.

“Sculpting eh? That's new, have ye finished any?” He pauses, swallowing his food. “I’d love to see them.” A spark lights up in your eyes, but it didn't look right. There's a lit candle in there but it's far, far away. The lack of life in your eyes makes his stomach spin like there's a guinea pig rolling around in their wheel in there, it made him want to puke. He wasn't the biggest fan of prolonged eye contact anyway, so he’ll just avoid looking you in the eye to prevent making a mess. “Oh yeah I actually do! They're already displayed on top of our shelves, I’ll show them to you after.” You exclaim, if that was you anyway, which it wasn't.

Dinner passed at an uncomfortably slow pace, Simon swore he could hear each individual tick and tock of the clock, the scraping of utensils against the porcelain plates and each chew you took. He’s gone through debatably louder things than this, the booms of the explosions were unforgettable after all but this somehow takes the cake. Wanting to distract himself further, he helps with washing the dishes which you normally did but you specifically chose today to help do the other minor chores. Water, that was your weak point. He noticed it, you didn't drink water after dinner either. What kind of monster doesn't drink water to hydrate after eating roasted pork?

To test out this thought of his, he decided to ask another question. “I'm heading to the shower, luv. Care to join me?” Meekly, he suggests to you, deep brown eyes staring intently as he awaited the already expected answer. “Oh I..actually already showered earlier dear. Maybe next time.” A dishearteningly dismissive reply, just like he expected. “Alright, suit yourself luv. I'll be back.”

He thought about it, almost forgetting about the bubbly soap running down his body from how deep in thought he was. There was no doubt about it anymore, everything about you being you, pointed away. At this point, he didn't care what the fake you was anymore, rather where you actually were. You could've been dead for all he knew, replaced by the soulless woman that now roams around his home.

This was beyond cruel, beyond the pain physical torture could've caused. It was like the universe was a cat and he was a yarn ball, being played by it meticulously. The whole thing was definitely planned out by a certain someone he knew, the both of you are fairly private so it couldn't have been a random person. He couldn't handle this alone, as much as he’d hate to admit, the situation was way bigger than him to do alone. So, he decides to call a trusted someone.

“You tellin’ me ye think your wife got abducted or something..and a doppelgänger replaced her?” A gruff voice questions, lightly tapping his cigar against the side of the ashtray. Price, him and Kate are the only members of the Task Force so far that Simon allowed you to meet. Well, it unfortunately looks like the sergeants won't get to meet you under these circumstances just yet. Strangely enough, the clocks inside the pub weren't working. Must be a malfunction. The masked man nodded, sighing through his nose when he got a whiff of the alcohol-filled air in the bar.

“I feel so.” He grumbled. “Couldn't she be just having an off day? We all have those, Simon.” John opposes it, it was an unquestionable possibility they couldn't simply ignore. “No, I know my wife. In my years of being with her, she's never acted this way.” Ghost hissed back, a hint of crystal clear impatience seeping out from his words. The lack of respect in his tone wasn't intended, but what could he do when his wife is apparently kidnapped and replaced so seamlessly? “I guess you have a point, but you need to confirm it Simon. You shouldn't make any decision on impulse, if the woman in your home really isn't your wife then this is a bigger issue.”

Then the plan was set, still a little all over the place but there really wasn't any time to lose. Simon would further observe the woman who's allegedly ‘you’ to make sure he isn't making things up, then if he was incredibly sure it wasn't you, he’ll head to the police and file a report for a missing person. In all honesty, it wasn't hard to do, having gone through missions more intense than this. Yet the fact that you were involved made the bugs inside of him crawl, this was totally his fault.

He didn't hide you away from the world enough, he should've just kept you locked inside a cage like the little birdie you were to avoid any danger coming your way. Simon wasn't stupid though, that was inhumane, you were one of the only few people who has managed to make Simon feel less of a ghost and more of a human. So doing such a thing to you was unethical and out of the books, but how could you blame him for subconsciously letting his possessiveness and worry take over when you're literally so far from his grasp? Being so near before that he could easily grip at the back of your top, now so far that the trace of your scent is long gone.

It makes Simon feel sick, his core being left to rot. He comes from the pub to what felt like an empty house, not home because nothing would feel like home without you there. He’d rather be living in a pile of rocks and plywood with you than in a giant mansion without you, that would be the real hell. “Bloody hell..where are you?” He murmurs under his breath, stressedly rubbing his creased forehead. If he could, he’d pry at every surface that comes up within his sight just to find you.

“I’m back.” He whispers, unsure if the fake you was asleep or not. Anyone, human or not wouldn't be happy being woken up from their slumber. “Welcome home, hun. You alright?” Looking up from your cup of tea, you ask. “Yeah, just spoke with the Captain. That's all, no alcohol.” Simon was so used to you being a worrywart about his alcohol intake, telling you that he didn't have any alcohol is practically ingrained into the wrinkles of his brain. But the woman in front of him didn't seem to care less about his health, let alone him in general. The lack of nagging that usually filled his ears to the brim didn't feel right, he would've much rather gone through another one of your yap sessions about how constant alcohol intake affects him in the long run than..just silence.

He feels the desperation inching up on him, eating him whole. At this point, he's willing to admit he doesn't want you. He needs you. He needs to hear your fretful complaints about him getting deployed, knowing you’d shut up because you were used to it by now. He needs you to tell him to include more vegetables in his diet because he's not some kind of carnivore to be eating that much meat. God, he just needs you with him. Whatever bloody thing came with you he’d take like it was on a stupid Black Friday sale.

“Not yet..” He’d think every single night, eyes wide open as he prevents himself from making a rash decision. The woman sleeping soundly right next to him, if that was you..But it wasn't, even if he stared at the unfamiliar woman for ten hours straight, she wouldn't just magically turn into you. Well sure, she was a carbon copy of you from head to toe but she simply just didn't scream ‘you’. Whatever and whoever you were anyway.

“When all is said and done, I think it'll end well Simon. My gut feeling tells me so, it's rarely ever wrong so I’m pretty sure we should trust it.” You ramble on and on, the little amount of alcohol taking over your lightweight self. Simon was still courting you here, yet he remembers it like it's been replayed in his mind like a broken record. He trusted your gut, and he could consider that as one of the best choices he's ever made in life.

But..trusting you now? While you're probably out, all shivering & teeth clattering from the immense cold night? Impossible, he’s fully aware that you're a capable strong woman however..how far can his trust go? How far do you have to venture into someone’s soul to gain their fragile trust, something that can be easily broken with your own bare hands? Ghost doesn't trust you, but Simon does.

“You're a strong gal, you can hold on for much longer.” He supposes, deep in thought while he flipped around in bed. The fake you hasn't set off any red flags yet, acting normal. Too normal. He knew ‘you’ had a purpose for being here, one with malicious intent, though what exactly? One wouldn't simply come in here and replace his wife with a fake one just out of spite, unless they were a little cuckoo. Tossing aside to check the time, he presses the ‘on’ button on his phone. Weird, the time didn't show up. Maybe it's just a glitch in the system.

“Simon, Hey? Simon, wake up. Hurry, you need to get up.” A voice shakes, lightly nudging him in order to awake him. It's your voice, he can instantly sense its meekness. With one eye and another, they flutter open, still full of sleep in them. “Oh thank goodness, you're awake! But you seriously need to wake up, like right now.” You crooned, hoping he’d fully wake up to the sound of your voice. Groaning, Simon sat up, a few joints popping in the process. “What..? Yeah, I’m awake luv. Whad’ya need me for?” He questions groggily, eyes opening further once he gets a closer look at you. It's actually you, he can tell! The way your eyes meet his, connecting like a bee landing on a precious flower. The way your voice lilted to him like a mother bird nursing her hatchlings, it really was you.

“Wait–luv? You're here? Bloody hell, you actually are–Did you see the other gal who looked just like you? Tell me I’m not losing my shit please.” Then you shushed him, convinced he’ll continuously go on and on if you didn't. “Please listen to me closely, Simon.” You pause, noticing how his eyes bask in yours like it was long overdue. “You need to wake up, hurry.”

[lingering-42-long]

141 + extra when they get home from war

Y’all be too much lol. This is my third head cannon and the Mother’s Day one is still on the top of the likes list and I don’t know why like that one was my trash one and everything else I like put time and effort into. It’s like offering people a gourmet meal or Ramen noodles with chicken nuggets, lol I’m glad everybody does enjoy my Content though, and I hope that you all enjoy this one as well!

COD x Female Character

Warnings: PG-13, mentioning of sex, fluff, suggestion of angst

Captain John Prince

• when he gets home, he’s usually pretty tired.

• Don’t be alarmed if he just wants to sleep when he gets home.

• Usually you pick him up from the airport and he will load in his bags with a grunt and say that he could really use some good sleep.

• He smells like gun powder and dirt, even though he just took a shower.

• When he gets home, he will give you a kiss, then head off to bed no matter what time of day it is.

• He’s just that tired.

• When he wakes up the first thing he does is go back over to you and give you a proper kiss and a proper greeting.

• Make sure that you have some food for him. He’s going to be hungry, and he really needs some thing that’s more sustainable than MREs.

• He wants to hear about your life and what you’ve been up to while he’s been at work.

• Listening to you talk is one of his favorite past times and it helps him relax. Sitting in front of the couch while watching some TV show while you’re rambling on about the past months and about what you’ve been up to really brings a smile to his face.

• He likes to catch up on his reading.

• This man enjoys reading with a cigar in his mouth and a glass of bourbon.

• If you’ve picked out a new book for him to read, he will be gladly appreciate of of it.

• But most importantly, he would want you to be in his lap while he’s reading, but if you don’t like the smell of cigar smoke near your face, he will make sure not to smoke near you.

Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

• Simon comes home as Ghost.

• The persona of a vengeful wraith and the shell of a once human is what your are graced with.

• He is very quiet, very solemn, and very cold.

• This is because he’s just dealing with his PTSD.

• He needs time to heal from recent encounters. This can take as little as one week to as long as three months.

• After badgering him enough times, to go see a therapist, he obliges.

• Though he’s pretty cranky about it.

• Give him space. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but right now, he doesn’t trust himself, especially with the nightmares raging through his mind.

• His nightmares are so vivid that it can be hard to distinguish Friend or foe.

• This is due to the fact that he needs to be working or else those vile thoughts come hunting him.

• He will never tell you about what goes on while he’s away.

• Once Ghost disappears, Simon takes his place.

• The poor broken man is just tired, and he just wants to lay next to you and hear about your day or months.

• Once you become stable enough, he begins to be more active around the house instead of just brooding in the bedroom.

• He hast to keep himself busy at all times.

• No rest for the wicked.

• Hast to sleep with a lamp on.

• Even though he seems harsh around the outside, he loves you deeply, and that’s why he separates himself from you for a certain time.

Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish

• Opposite of Ghost, Johnny is so excited to see you!

• As soon as he gets off the airplane, he runs over to you!

• This man is all over you before you even see him!

• He starts asking you 1 million questions about how your months have been and what’s been going on with his family and any news on the recent football (soccer) matches.

• You actually have to calm him down because he’s all over the place.

• When you get into the car, he is kissing you all over your face.

• This man has enough energy to run to the moon and back, and it shows.

• He’ll try to take you right there if only he wasn’t in a car confined by a seatbelt

• Johnny is quick to help around the house and do whatever task you need to do.

• He says he’s making up for lost time.

• If you’ve decorated the house in a new way, he will always compliment what you’ve done to it.

• Johnny wakes up early in the morning and practically begged you to join him on a hike.

• It could be down pouring for all he cares about but he really wants to be with you while he’s working out.

• He will bring you back a souvenir probably something stupid like a rock or a jar of sand.

• If he gets any scars, he shows you and starts pointing them out and tells you the story about each and everyone of them.

• He won’t go into great detail about how gruesome the battling was.

• He wants you to be in his life every step of the way, even if you’re at home.

Sargent Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

• Kyle is grinning from ear to ear when he sees you!

• He’s not as hyper as Johnny, nor is he a stoic as his captain.

• He has the perfect mix between excited and tired

• When you to get home, he says that you two should just order pizza and he’s dying to play a video game with you even if he’s a little tired.

• Kyle doesn’t go into a lot of detail about his work. He’ll just make an occasional gesture about what he saw what he did.

• Like soap, he’ll bring you back a souvenir.

• He actually takes time with his souvenir shopping though, and we’ll go to local markets installs to actually pick you out some thing that you might like.

• Happy to be with you and glad to be away from the fighting.

Commander Alejandro Vargas

• When he comes home, his first instinct is to drop his bags by the door, and bring you into a warm and passionate kiss and hug.

• As much as he loves his job and all of his soldiers and team, some thing about being at home with you makes him feel truly loved.

• He may be tired, but he still going to serenade you like it’s his last day on earth.

• If you haven’t started making dinner yet, he will help and participate with whatever you’re doing. He may be tired, but he’s never tired for you.

• He loves watching you move around the house.

• He’s not going to deny it, but you wearing his clothes and cooking dinner with him really turns him on.

• After dinner, he may propose a night in bed to you.

• This man serenades you in sex especially after he’s been away for a long time

• Physical touch is his love language, and he loves being with you.

Sergeant Major Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

• Like his commander, when he comes home, all he wants to do is drop his bags and immediately embrace you and a warm hug while rubbing your head and whispering how much he’s missed you.

• He also wants to help you cook dinner, or do some thing, but if you go, tell him to take a shower and to relax, he won’t deny that he needs it.

• Rudy loves reading a book with you so after dinner he will want to skip the washing dishes and ask if you would like to read with him before going to bed. No matter what time it is in the day. If he’s tired enough, he will once to at least read a little bit before falling asleep.

• Once he’s asleep, the bags underneath his eyes seem to disappear. He knows you’re close and he knows that you’re safe and that’s all that he could ever ask for to make him happy.

König

• As soon as he gets off the airplane and sees you amongst the crowd of people, his anxiety stops, and he immediately makes his way to you.

• He can’t sleep on an airplane, but as soon as he’s in the car, he’s about ready to doze off. You have to remind him not to though, because waking him up or trying to drag him out of the car is near impossible.

• He is really trying hard not to pass out in the car.

• Once he gets home, he stumbles into the kitchen looking for a nice tall glass of water to drink, and a sandwich or two to eat.

• Make sure that you keep the sandwiches stocked.

• This man will then make his way to the bedroom, take a cold shower, get into some warm PJs, and then slip into bed.

• Once he’s asleep, he will stay in his hybernation for roughly 3 days.

• He will only wake up to use the restroom, get a drink of water, or to eat some thing.

• When his mind is on the battlefield, he rarely puts himself into a sleep state, but when he’s at home, it’s like all of the hours that he missed, sleeping or suddenly compiled in a single week.

• Just let him rest, and sooner or later, he’ll wake up from his hibernation, and will seek you out so that he can give you kisses and hugs and ask how your time has been away from him.

Alex Keller

• When Alex gets back, like everybody on this list, he is tired.

• His leg is very sore from the prosthetic. Prosthetics are not comfortable and cause I’m serious leg and back pain.

• He will ask very nicely if you could massage his leg for him when he gets home.

• Once he’s in the car, Alex is taking off that damn prosthetic leg and rubbing his stump.

• You can tell he’s in a lot of pain just by the way, his eyes crease, and a frown forms.

• In order to get him off of the pain, you talk to him about his time.

• This usually makes him perk up since he enjoys talking to you about his adventures.

• His personality is like a mix between Johnny and Kyle, but leans more towards Kyle.

• When you get home you’ll have to help him walk because he really does not want to put on his prosthetic.

• You just leave the bag in the car to get later.

• When Alex gets into bed, it’s like a huge sigh of relief washes over him.

• You can see how red and agitated his amputated limb is.

• You do what you can to make him feel better by applying some numbing cream and giving him some pain relieving medicine.

• He always feels better once you start massaging his leg and even more so if you give them a back rub.

• This man is a simple man and enjoys a simple massage after months of no rest.

Philip Graves

• Like a soldier from World War II coming home to meet his best girl.

• He always surprises you when he comes home and has one of his shadow men drive him to the house.

• He always buys you a huge bouquet of flowers and some pretty jewelry as well.

• When he walks through the door, he asks where his baby girl is.

• And of course you come running and giving him a huge hug and crying, which he immediately envelops you into a hug.

• He’s whispering in your ear with that southern drawl about how much she misses you.

• He gets a little into himself when he’s talking about how his mission is or how he was able to handle such a dangerous and daunting task.

• As egotistical, as this may seem, it is his way of expressing his love for you in a slightly weird way.

• In the evening, he’ll probably swoop you up into a dance, with both of you, smiling and laughing.

• He tells you how much he misses you and how much he loves you.

• In bed, he shows you how much he means both of those things.

[d0youc0py]

So, i've read through a lot of your stuff, and its giving me instant serotonin, and i already love your writing, I also have a rather interesting ask, and you can completely ignore it if you wish to, but!- TF141 + Alejandro and Rudy learning that the new addition to their team is a bit younger than them(around 17-19), and a bouncy ball of ditzy airheaded-ness, and actually sees a them as Brother/Father figures? A little bit of a comfort for those, and myself included, who have platonic attachments to these badass men!

Your relationship with Price comes the most natural. He has always had an overwhelming desire to nurture and mentor those who are close to him- or those that he believes could become close to him. Considering he recruited you, he definitely saw you as one of those lucky few. You are a bit of a mess, needing some serious fine tuning, but you have an obvious want to learn and you soak up every bit of information he shares with you. He sees a lot of himself in you. He was only 16 when he joined the military and he wished he had a mentor to guide him and teach him so he didn’t have to learn from his mistakes, (not that he would’ve listened).

He was also the gateway to getting the other TF members to trust you- especially Ghost.

There is a lot of uncertainty in your job, but one thing you can always count on is that Caps got your back. You need a place to crash on deployment? He has a guest room. You need life advice? He feels like he hasn’t done anything right- but he’s been through enough things to know a thing or two. You had a nightmare? He office door is always open.

He’s a bit over meeting new people. And he lets you know that. For a long time he saw you as a reckless pain in the butt- a risk. You were a powerhouse on the field, yet you lacked that certain refinement. It wasn’t till he saw you and Price during a training. The Captain had your full attention and he saw an eagerness to learn that he hadn’t seen for a long time. He decided to give you a shot, throwing out tidbits of wisdom to see how you would respond. It would always surprise him when you not only listened but implemented what he had told you.

It was like a switch had flipped in his brain and he became the older brother that he had always so desperately tried to push down. He knows all your little quirks. What gets you fired up. What calms you down. He’s incredibly observant and it feels like he knows what you need before you do.

“Keep sleeping, I’ll cover your watch.”

“If you forget your MRE one more time.” He huffed taking out the said MRE you forgot out of his bag.

He’s the definition of tough love. His toughness keeps you grounded and on track. His loving side makes sure you are always taken care of (even though he wants to strangle you daily) and the first time you introduce him as “your brother” he nearly had to excuse himself to dry his eyes.

You’d think that the two of you would be partners in crime. Running around, causing trouble, giving everyone a headache. While the two of you do have your moments, Soap understands his responsibility as not only the elder, but the ranking officer in your relationship. Outside of the work the two of you are as thick as thieves, but out on the field it a whole different story. He’s serious, taking his self appointed job as your mentor to heart. This is the first time he’s taken someone under his wing and he is not going to screw it up. He teaches you as much as he can, as much as you need to not only be safe but successful.

The change is a shock to the TF at first, but they admire the way Soap “ages up” and it inspires them to do the same.

He doesn’t treat himself of your “mentor” or “elder” he treat you as though you two are equals. He treats you with respect and never talks down to you and he makes sure everyone else does the same.

The two of you hit it off instantly. Snarky comments are constantly flying back and forth between the comms and despite their better judgment the rest of the TF can just fight back a chuckle. He teases you relentlessly (out of love). All you have to do is make one slip up and this man will never let you forget it. But he also makes sure that if he can dish it out, he can take it too. This results in the two of you laughing hysterically, doing your best impersonations of each other. After long missions the two of you can often be found on the couch fighting over a blanket, watching your favorite comfort movies. You really are the sibling he never knew he needed.

Like Price he sees a lot of himself in you. You have drive. You do have a tendency to be a little too aloof for your own good, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. He embraced you with open arms and makes you feel like you’ve been family for decades. He’s hard on you and demanding, but it’s just because he knows what you are capable of. He understands the trust you place in him and will do everything in his power to live up to the image you have of him in your head.

You have a permanent room in his house. He always makes sure to have the ingredients to your favorite dish on hand just in case you had a hard day. He makes sure all of your trainings are up to date so you have every opportunity to make it out alive. You are so important to him and he never lets you forget it.

He’s wary of you at first. Even after Alejandro welcomed you with open arms. He saw you as a flight risk and he didn’t want to end up dead because of it. It wasn’t until one night you confessed how much you looked up to him- how you wanted to be like him.

He had misjudged you, and he apologized for it. He made up for lost time by going out of his way to be extra kind to you until it just turned into a habit. You and Alejandro both wear him out, he wouldn’t trade either of you for the world. He’s the voice of reason when you get ahead of yourself and he’s always the one who slows down and explains things to you when you find yourself lost. His patience seems almost endless and you thank his everyday for it.

Thank you for your kind words! Hope you liked this.

[luvlystarr]

.・。.・゜❃・.・❃・゜・。.

Prompt: Your husband, John Price, came home from work.

Content: Fluff & comfort (Check the end for a little note!)

・゜・。. .・。.・゜ The sun had already fallen below the horizon and was replaced by the moon, paired with the dark sky. There was a slight breeze in the air, it wasn’t too cold and it was just perfect.

You had just arrived home, completely burnt out from work. It was to the point you didn't even have enough energy to change clothes. Instead, you laid down on the couch, motionless.

Thankfully, it was the end of the week. The past couple days felt like absolute hell. All you did was paperwork upon paperwork and deal with your crappy co-workers. Not only that but you've been waiting days for your husband, John Price, to return back home from yet another mission. There's always something going on in the world that forces him to leave you for multiple times within the span of a few months.

After thirty minutes of staring into nothing, you decided it was time to make some dinner. As much as you didn't want to cook you knew it was the best option since you've been eating takeout for so long.

You looked around the pantry before finding a box of pasta and tomato sauce. As you began to cook your simple meal, you decided to play some music.

The loud melodies completely blocked off your awareness to your surroundings. You didn’t even hear the door open and the sound of footsteps approaching you.

While you were humming along you suddenly feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist and someone's face bury itself into the crook of your neck.

Your heart leaped out of your chest as a loud shriek left your lips. You quickly whipped your head around only to realize it was just John

"John, you scared me!" You exclaimed, your heart still pounding.

"Sorry, love, I missed you," John murmured, his voice more gruff than usual.

A soft smile appeared on your lips as he nestled closer to you. He only showed his vulnerable side to you. “I thought you said you would spend the night with the boys to celebrate,” you say as you turn around to fully face him.

John sighed deeply, his arms holding onto you for dear life, almost like he was afraid you would slip away. “It's been almost three weeks, I had to see you,” he mumbled. A small laugh left your lips. You knew John definitely used 'the missus needs me' excuse again. He always used that excuse to get away from certain situations, even though he knows you're perfectly fine. He just doesn't like being away from you for so long. But how can you blame him? You also can't bear spending time away from him.

After another minute, John lifts his head up. The dim lighting was still able to illuminate the exhaustion etched on his face. “What’re you making?” He asked, looking over to see the boiling pot on the stove.

“Pasta, nothing special. Oh! We need to go grocery shopping soon, there’s barely anything in the pantry,” you reply.

It was such a simple meal but John was craving anything that wasn’t MREs. He desperately missed eating your home cooked meals.

“Give me the list, I'll take care of it tomorrow,” he says as he kisses your cheek.

You instantly shook your head in disagreement. "It's fine, I can do it! You just came back from a mission and you need to rest," you protested.

Suddenly, John kissed your lips softly. “At least let me help you with dinner tonight,” he said pulling away.

Your lips curl into a smile at the short yet sweet kiss you two shared. “Yeah, you can help out.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into another kiss.

This was the first kiss you two had in what felt like eternity. You could feel your heart fluttering at the feeling.

John’s hand left your hips and gently cupped your cheek, his thumb rubbing it slowly.

Oh, how you two missed each other’s touch.

A simple kiss from one another basically washed away all the tension and exhaustion from both of your bodies.

The two of you pull away after a moment, eyes still closed while still holding each other closely.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you during the mission.. I kept thinking how much I missed being here with you,” John whispered.

“I missed you too, hun,” you respond as your head leans into the palm of his hand.

The sound of water boiling rapidly caught your attention. You were so caught up in the moment that you completely forgot about the pasta.

“Shoot, I overcooked the pasta!” You quickly let go of John and turned the stove off. A small huff left your lips while you watched the bubbles slowly die down.

You turn back to John with an apologetic smile. “You don’t mind overcooked pasta, right?” You chuckle, earning a laugh from him.

“I’m fine with anything as long as you made them,” he replied.

He then opened one of the cabinets, pulling out a pot. “I’ll help you with the sauce, yeah?”

You nodded your head, smiling broadly. “That’d be great! Thanks, hun.”

It didn’t take long for dinner to be served. The rest of the night was filled with chatter and laughter. John was glad he spent the night with you instead.

・゜・。. .・。.・゜

Thank you so much for the support on my last post, I’m really happy that you guys enjoyed it!!

If you have a request please keep in mind that I am busy outside of tumblr so I may not respond to your requests immediately, but I will try! Also read my guidelines before making a request. 🤍

[southernroach]

^^ the og tags for context

holy fuck. you put it into words. this is beautiful, i don't think i've ever cried so hard to something before. i'm struggling to say something back but all i want to say is thank you for your amazing writing.

it's so raw, there's so much anger and desperation in this piece. to have loved something and to watch it get corrupted in that way, i imagine it as a childhood pet that starts to froth at the mouth with sickness.

the image of him struggling to pray and ending up in more of a conversation is devastating to me. it's so much more intimate that way. without all the rules and structures of prayer, it's just roach and everything he left behind. every part of him probably aches to do what he was taught: get on your knees, clasp your hands together, and press your lips to your knuckles like it's a kiss.

he doesn't though. he just lays there till that fight against muscle memory hurts too much and curls into himself. whispering an amalgamation of all the prayers he used to have memorized because he doesn't know any other way. he can't stop himself from flinching when he starts to remember how they go.

at what point does a prayer become him begging? has he ever known how to pray? is it okay to do it, even now that he hates the way god's name tastes in his mouth? the idea of praying to a god that used to be yours is so painful.

and the shame of it all. that bit of fear that prickles the back of his neck everytime there's something vaguely religious. a shadow of a cross, the smell of the incense, the taste of the MRE bread that breaks like chalk in his mouth that reminds him of the ones he used to eat in church. it's a reflex to hide his eyes, it's instinct to turn away. but it's not fair. how can his love be a sin but the church's hatred be gospel?

he refuses the shame. he refuses the guilt. sins don't matter when there isn't a hell to condemn you to anymore. it gets easier.

the bit about the actual buildings of a church are so heartbreaking. it's not the ones that stick out from the other buildings around it, all grandiose like the amount of money they put in is a testament to their faith in god. those he ignores.

but the smaller ones, with creaking steps and small stained glass windows? the kind where the book's spines are all cracked and the corners are either torn or folded? he waits outside.

his god, the one he used to know, lingers in every aspect of his life. and it's because he can't truly let go. he doesn't know how to have faith without the idea of god sneaking in. doesn't know how to pull from the deepest part of himself without using religion as a vessel for it.

he isn't religious anymore but what else carries the same weight?

every time he goes back, it feels like some type of self-flagellation. and hell, isn't that an act for god too?

what’s it called when you grew up religious and then lost your faith but when you or someone close to you is faced with something devastating, the deepest way you try to convey your feelings is through religious acts

[callofdudes]

Hello how are you are you good? May I ask for some headcanons? Please make it longer if possible. A wonderful cook with a female reader. For Ghost Simon and (separately)Konig, please? if you do this can you tag me in the post too please? have a nice day

No I totally didn't lose this in my drafts while trying to come up with stuff. I do hope the length is ok, sorry that it took so long 😓

Y'all are wholesale today! I like it! Thank you for the request @simligul I tried to make it as long as I could so I hope you enjoy.

Female! Cook x The Tall Boys.

(Each tall boy sold separately)

Ghost:

He cannot cook to save his life. He knows how to put honey on bread and that is the extent of his knowledge.

He's gotten used to the MRE's that they're mandated to eat, but the first time you cook him a meal from scratch he falls more than he thought he ever could.

This man straight up either eats MRE's when he's at home or orders skip the dishes constantly to the point where it's kind of unhealthy.

Before you were living together he didn't know you could cook. He'd taken you out to restaurants but hadn't ever witnessed you active in a kitchen before.

So when he does...

You smile when he approached the kitchen, curious of the wonderful smells that are being produced. His nose leads him right to you in your apron with stains all over the cloth.

"What is this?" He asks, admiring the scene from the doorway and the apron you wore.

"What do you think? I'm making food."

He poked his head around and eyed the different ingredients simmering and popping in pans on the stove and his stomach cries out loudly. He looks back at you and you laugh at how he's practically begging you with his eyes. "Get out of my kitchen, I'll call you when it's done!"

He will come back every now and then to check on you (and the food).

When you finally set up the table and call him to eat he is borderline hyper. He sees all the steaming beautiful food and he will devour it all.

You are too good for him. Before he even sits down he will assure you that it looks absolutely delicious.

When he does manage to sit down and starts eating his stomach is beyond grateful. He had gotten so used to eating MRE's that he had genuine forgotten what it was like to eat a real meal. When he gets through the first three thrill bites his stomach grows three times the size. You yourself are a bit surprised by how much he ate. You barely had any leftovers to pack up.

Full of food and warm he'll hug you from behind while your washing the dishes and mutter thanks into your neck.

He'll hang around you for the rest of the evening and gratefully crash next to you in pure bliss.

From the day you first cooked for him forth Ghost longs for the days when he can return from war to your loving arms and a home cooked meal.

After going back to camp he'll occasionally mention that the food there tastes like shit compared to what you can make. This causes Soap to want to come with him on leave just to taste your food.

"I've missed you." He'll hug you close and rest against you for a while before taking off his head and stepping into the living room. Before he can even take his boots off he can smell the thick aroma of food. His stomach praises you loudly, making you giggle.

He takes off all his things and kisses you before going over to the kitchen. Again he will praise you for every bit of food on the table.

If he comes home after you've already packed up for bed, he'll check the fridge for food and there will be a little sticky note on the containers of leftovers. "Hey love. Sorry I couldn't be there to greet you. Tonight's dinner is xyz, have as much as you'd like."

He misses you when he isn't able to come back for the holidays. He loves hanging out with you around Christmas and Thanksgiving. But the food you make is so good around the holidays. He's always surprised by just how much effort you put into meals.

He tries to keep mention of you around base low. While he enjoys talking about you, he doesn't like the constant teasing from the others. But when Johnny starts to hear more about how good a cook you supposedly are, he is on his knees begging to come back to Simon's home with him for the holidays. And Simon was going to refuse, until somehow he didn't.

He thought you were going to be abrasive about all the guests when he showed up at his home with Price, Johnny, and Kyle right behind him, but you welcomed them with open arms.

Ghost smiled when you opened your arms and welcomed Price into your home. How you smiled so kindly and you were genuinely happy they were there.

There was no anger for being intruded on or barging to reach your husband, it was heartwarming to watch how you treated them.

When you'd met everyone and shaken their hands, you greeted Simon who was still taking his coat off. But that didn't matter. You pulled him into a short kiss before urging him toward the couch.

Simon and Price tried to help you with setting up the guest bedroom but you weren't having it.

"You lot must be exhausted. Sit, I'll have supper prepared in an hour." Simon smiled. "You're wonderful." You shoved him down onto the couch. "Rest, hang out with your friends." And you walked off to start preparing the guest room for the three.

You were right to assume they were exhausted. They tore their gear off and settled down on the couches. Finally getting to watch some good TV.

They didn't bother to move for the rest of the evening until you called them to dinner.

"Dinner is served boys!"

Kyle and Johnny were the first ones up and sprinting for the kitchen. Their stomachs empty of anything but the McDonald's they'd had early before their flight out.

Johnny was in heaven when he came in and saw the food. It was enough to feed a small army. He grabbed your hands and shook them roughly. "Oh Mrs. Riley you're an angel." You chuckled and handed him a plate as Simon and Price came in to inspect the food. "Take as much as you'd like, don't worry about leftovers and if I need to make more I can."

"Thank you ma'am." Price served himself.

Once they'd vacated the kitchen Simon gave you another kiss and took what the boys had left. "Do you want any?" He asked.

"Have it darling. You deserve it."

The boys were impressed with your cooking the first time. But when the 25 of December rolled around three days later it was a feast. You were happy to have Simon's friends along with your family for Christmas.

"Any friend of Simon's is a friend of mine. You are always welcome in our home."

Jokingly you get Simon a cookbook for Christmas so he can take it to the base with him. Whenever he gets the chance to go shopping (which is rarely) at least he'll be able to make something comprehendable with the foods.

Simon does eventually ask you to teach him to cook. And you'd thought he'd never ask. You started with basic recipes, something he could remember easily and come back to. A starter. And then you got out of hand. Sauce all over your apron and Simon getting his oil covered fingers all over you.

You taught him to bake as well. Because who else is going to make the 141 cookies? You couldn't keep sending them in boxes every month when mail slots opened up.

Simon enjoys baking more than cooking. He will lick all the utensils. If you're making chocolate cookies he'll lick the spoon/spatula/whisk, whatever you used he'll lick it clean. And you need to constantly supervise him when baking because will 100% eat raw cookie dough without fear of consequences.

"Simon! Don't eat that! You'll get sick!"

"fuck off!" He'll say as he playfully pushes you away and grabs another handful of dough.

If he ever comes across a dish he likes or thinks he'd like, he'll send a picture of it to you. When he goes to Mexico Rodolfo takes care of meals for the group and If Ghost likes something he'll hint you off like, "Hey Y/N, look at this really delicious looking dish... A shame I'll only be able to eat it once. Unless..."

Another thing he enjoys about it, is not just the food. But watching you cook. You have a smile on your face the whole time and you seem in utter bliss to cook for you, him, or anyone else.

And the apron.

Teasingly pulling on the strings from behind you or helping you take it off. It's small but it manages to mesmerize him every time.

If you are part of the military most of this still stands, when you first cool for him and the boys he's stunned and amazed. Maybe he's a little annoyed that you didn't start making food sooner when everyone was bitching and moaning about MRE's.

In the very, very, very rare instances where Simon is sick you're the type to not let him out of bed. Simon is either so sick he's unable to move or he can power through it, there is no difference to you. You'll lay him in bed and bring in a warm bowl of soup. And while Simon protests you'll cup his jaw and help him eat.

"I don't need help-"

"Shh, lay down Simon, let me take care of you."

"I hate how sweet you are."

"I love you too."

König:

König knows a little about cooking, but not a lot. His mother taught him him how to make basic cultural dishes including some sweets.

He enjoys cooking on the occasion but the military doesn't offer him much for culinary adventure. So he's become less fluent. Put him in a kitchen however and he could make you a warm meal from his heart.

When you first cook for him, his mouth is watering. He's absolutely starving when he gets home from base and his surprise when he came to see you and your house was swimming with the smells of culinary love.

He'll slip into the kitchen and eyeball all the stuff that's going on. In a heartbeat he's on his knees for whatever your making.

"Darling- please! I haven't eaten a proper meal in so long!"

"Get out of my Kitchen König, I will call you when it's ready. Just rest."

This man will sit by the corner of your kitchen. He will make sure he's pressed up against the wall but not entering the space. He'll crawl into a ball and whimper to make sure you remember he's sitting there.

"König, it'll only take a couple of minutes." You chuckled when he starts to slowly drag himself back into the kitchen hoping you wouldn't notice.

When you finish up he is giving you the biggest puppy eyes he can. It's as if his irises grew in size, they're practically sparkling when you motion with your finger and he jumps up. "YES! Thank you!"

He grabs a plate and doesn't hold back to shovel food onto his plate and rush to the table to consume it all. There is barely enough for you this big boy took so much.

He's scarfing it down when you take your seat and all you can do is just lovingly stare at him. His eyes are practically glazed over when he tastes it on his tongue.

"Darling, this is absolutely amazing, thank you."

"You're welcome König, you deserve it."

This man goes into a full food comma. When he's out his plate in the dishwasher he goes and passes out on the couch. You find it absolutely adorable.

He's just passed out. Usually when König comes back home it takes him at least a day or two to take the hood off and another couple to full relax. But tired and full it's the first time you've seen him throw his hood on the coffee table and just pass out without a worry.

You're not even complaining.

König and you exchange recipes. While you teach him some of the dishes he doesn't know how to make, he'll show you how to make dishes from his home.

When he gets back he will not shut up about you. He won't tell new recruits or other members unless their already friends, subject of his anxiety. But he loves to talk about you with his small group of friends and his operatives team. You're his shining light.

When he starts digging into military food again his head is just filling with all the ways you could cook this so much better and slop in a tube was just as bad as it was when he first signed up.

He finds himself getting particularly homesick now whenever he eats food that is not cooked by you. He always thinks about the dish and it will relate back to you in some way.

After König teaches you to make his favorite sweets, you make sure to send him a tightly sealed box of them every month for him. (If they can survive over time ofc)

He shares with his team because he wants them to also taste your baking and cooking. He will proudly tell them how wonderful you are and after tasting the sweets they all agree.

König is a little more lenient with his leave time, so he gets to see you somewhat more often then others. When he returns again around Thanksgiving he isn't expecting utterly extravagant meal he finds.

He slouched against the door, tired and gross. He looks up when you come over. Your apron on and your hair up. You gasp when you see him. "I thought you were coming back tomorrow?"

König tiredly shakes his hand and opens his arms for you to rush into. He's sore but he hugs you tightly. You smell of freshly baked goods and spices. He breathes you in deeply and he knows he's home. He sighs and nuzzles his forehead against yours.

"I've got food on the table love, come join whenever you're ready."

"Thank you meine liebe."

When he does join you he takes in all the smells of home. His mind and his body starting to relax just at the hand of the fruits of your labor.

You guide him to the table and get him a plate. The area is well lit when he returns to make him feel comfortable.

The two of you will talk as he eats. And it's not unusual for him to go back for seconds or thirds. Sometimes if he's extra hungry he'll raid the pantry for food.

Crashing in bed after a warm meal is the best feeling. His stomach sated, he wraps his arms around you and feels his worries slip away.

You crawl in bed next to him and snuggle up against him. "Goodnight" and despite his food coma, König pulls you to his chest, content to stay here forever.

When he's on leave he offers to bring Horangi back to stay with you both, just so you can taste the food. He has no plans for his leave except sitting in the kitchen and enjoying whatever warm meal you've set up for him.

Bringing Horangi back then were both incredibly excited about your cooking. König could almost taste it and Horangi had heard many good things.

You were overjoyed to have Horangi over and cooked a feast for the two. Horangi's mouth was watering and all König could say was "Seeeee!"

Both König and Horangi sit by the kitchen entrance, watching you like cats going back and forth, back and forth.

The smell of the food is not lost on them when you bring them into the kitchen finally. Seeing everything you've prepared.

"This looks stunning ma'am, thank you a thousand times for having me." Horangi took your hands and squeezed them, unable to contain his excitement. Or his hunger. His stomach started to snarl before he could finish his expression of gratitude.

You once again stand back and let the men eat what the want. You weren't at all surprised when Horangi had just the appetite that König did.

It was funny watching them talk while they feasted, occasionally melting and having a brain aneurysm over how good it was.

Compared to the food on base, Horangi will now get on his knees and kiss the ground you walk on. You are a fucking angel for taking care of him when he comes over.

He will not stop talking about "König's wife can cook!! And you don't get any of it, because you're not invited! 😏"

König is just glad you're there for his friends, willing to provide hospitality and food. You can't turn down anyone it seems.

But he wouldn't change that about you.

He loves to dance in the kitchen with you. If you're cooking something and you have music in the background, König will come over, hands cupping your waist and drawing you toward him.

"And what are you doing??" You hold a spatula covered in sauce up to him and he licks it happily. "What does it look like??" You pulls you in and twirls you around the kitchen.

"König, watch out for the stove." You giggle.

He keeps turning and spinning you, pressing kisses to your throat and cheeks.

"I love you so much."

"I love you too you big goof."

He smiles, nuzzling against your neck, the smell of the spices imprinting on your skin. They must have. After you've cooked an apple pie you still smell of cinnamon. And it drives him crazy.

König loves you so much, he wouldn't dream his life any other way. And certainly not without you in it. He gives you another kiss and you shove him out of your kitchen.

"Food isn't really yet."

"But looooove-!" He whines.

"No, you'll have to wait. Like a good boy." You smirk.

He huffs, but he can't say no to that. So he plops down and sits longingly at the entrance of the kitchen, watching you as you cook.