angelstate

[angelstate]

a short fic about 50-year-old Price with an 18-year-old reader who he met on tinder?

yes, please!!!!!!

Imagine almost 50 year old John Price being the most perverted freak to ever step on this earth, salivating at the thought of having a young girl to use as he pleases, an object to empty his balls every night.

and young reader being in her early twenties, or even worse, freshly 18 as of last Friday.

Deciding is a fun idea to download Tinder. Not planning to go on any dates, just lead men on, make them beg for it like starving dogs standing outside of a butcher shop, not allowed in, never getting the piece of meat they want.

It's just to have a little bit of harmless fun, to spend your time as a new adult, not faking your age anymore because you're legal in all the ways that matter.

There's nothing wrong with that, right?

To have your cake and eat it too, fill your stomach full of laughter at the way men salivate at the mere thought of getting a chance with you.

In their knees, begging for it. Hoping, praying that push comes to shove and they finally get you in their bed for the most horrible night of your life.

Disgusting in full perspective. Hilarious because you're too immature to see the danger.

One night, after one to many shots of your father's vodka, you match with John Price, a man who is way too old to have his age range on the app set as low as 18.

He could very well be your father, maybe even your grandfather.

Luckily for you both, he isn't your dad...but that doesn't mean he can't be your Daddy.

You don't think about it.

His pictures, the very few he has on his profile call your name with the smoothness of Whiskey, a low growl.

Inviting you? Maybe.

Warning you? Absolutely.

His messages are full of filthiness poorly disguised by pet names that do nothing but make you feel icky.

You ignore the wetness between your thighs, that has nothing to do with the messages he sent you.

With alcohol in your system you respond, opening the door wide open for him to come inside, (to come inside you) to let him get to know you even if it's only through pictures.

Sexting felt so immature, but John convinces himself that he is doing it for you, the pretty young thing on his phone that's too young to feel confident in doing anything else.

Merely city over, an hour drive away from the wet cave between your thighs. That's where John is.

His thick and heavy cock in hand, so hard it's borderline painful as he squeezes drops of precum, coating his tip with it.

Simple pleasures, truly.

Although he wants nothing else but to completely ruin your insides, he lets his hand be enough for now.

Your young body won't rot by a days wait, so what if he has to track down your information to get there the next day?

Such an interesting little creature, haven't even gotten your Highschool diploma yet are already presenting yourself to men on Tinder.

Maybe he should teach you a lesson, show you to not get ahead of yourself, to not put things online that you can't take back.

[angelstate]

something something, Price being a 40 something year old porn director with reader who turned 18 a few months ago and decided to become a porn actress to pay for college.

Price being known in the industry for his preference of casting young actresses, the ones who are far too young and stupid to take the decision to do porn.

They are the ones that make him the most money, depraved and perverted old men watching his content religiously, waiting for the next film Price would upload.

Not that his morals were much higher than the people who would pay to watch his content, he was the one creating it after all, feeding the gross old men behind the screen their dirtiest fantasies.

Price didn't feel sorry for the girls who walked through the doors of his studio. Thinking, no, truly believing they brought this upon themselves.

He thought they surely weren't dumb enough to just choose porn as their career, even worse, that they weren't dumb enough to come to him.

The director with the reputation of making the young pornstars wish they had listened to their parents.

But then reader appears, a dumb 18 year old girl who looks so out of place it's ridiculous to the people around her.

Not Price though, he just sees the biggest amount of money walk through his door after almost 4 months of not having any actress debut.

He almost has half the mind to warn you about what will happen to you once you become one of his actresses.

What a shame that college is so expensive you don't bother reading the contract before signing it with a relieved smile on your face.

[angelstate]

Oh okay sorry i didnt realise! I mean if you WANT to do that do you but i wont Force you!

Heartbreakingly In Love

PeterParker x Reader

(here it is luv, hope u like it!!)

Peter Parker was the love of your life. accentuation on the was.

Is not that you fell out of love one morning and suddenly you didn't view him as the reason you woke up everyday. You just couldn't allow yourself to love him any longer, therefore he was the love of your life.

you wished you could think back to when you love him freely and pinpoint when things started going south for the both of you.

Maybe it was more of a sudden realization that him being who he was and you being who you were and wished to become weren't compatible at all. Peter needed someone waiting for him every night to be there unconditionally and you couldn't be it.

You weren't aunt May, you weren't Tony Stark, you weren't Ned, you were you. a woman whose identity couldn't be tied down to be his companion, you wished to succeed too but for that you had to walk away for a while.

You tried to muster the courage to talk to peter about this for a while, thinking heavily about your reasons, your future, dreams, everything that was on the line if you didn't at least discuss who you wanted to be with peter.

You debated in how to start such difficult conversation, how to put into words and explain to the man you loved how you couldn't allow yourself to love him any longer

You doubted there even existed words in the english language that could describe softly how you couldn't love someone anymore for the sake of not losing your identity.

Adding to that the fact you weren't explaining to anyone else other than your beautiful, dark haired, compassionate but not so selfless lover whose world and heart brakes at the most negative intimacy and intrusive thoughts that filled your mind.

The same man that with the same breath wouldn't doubted one second to go to space and sacrifice his life for anyone that asked him to do so.

How could you tell him, how could you come and disturb the new found peace in his life with the gruesome news that you had to walk away from him or else you would become something you didn't want, or worse, Not become anything at all.

although you were thinking about that your feet still insisted to drag you to his home, a gloomy expression decorating your face that you couldn't hide at least not tonight.

Knocking on a door had never felt more impossible, making yourself known felt so strangely dehumanizing at this moment.

You didn't want to see Peter Parker; You didn't want to deliver him such somber news, break his heart with such pressure that even his superpowers couldn't lift it out of his chest and then leave right through the same door you didn't dare to knock.

But even with your heart trying to pull you away from the door in front of you, your mind still made you knock.

Three unsteady knocks on the door, followed by a strangled sigh leaving your mouth, the cheerful and sweet tone of your lover screaming at his only family member in the inside of his home that he would open the door followed by the only thing separating you from facing each other being opened by him

Peter opened the door already knowing it was you who knocked, he had heard your heartbeat the moment you walked into the building.

So used to hear it he could detect the familiar thudding rhythm from miles away, your intoxicating perfume filling his nose since the 7 minutes you had been standing in front of his door.

The one he didn't dare to open before you knocked because he knew how much you liked when he acted surprised to see you, how he pretended he couldn't sense you from a mile away.

There he was, a big smile on his face that slowly disappeared as he smelled the lack of serotonin on your body and saw your gloomy expression, the one you only ever had when something bad had happened.

"what happened?" peter said, his tone dripping from concern as his eyes opened slightly, focused on noticing every detail of your face, trying to see the severity of the situation that had you so sad and conflicted.

you just stared at him, eyes filled with so much sorrow and guilt that it made peter think you had done something so bad you had come to him hoping he could make it better. Because he always did, he always fixed and broke and cleaned anything that you had done you alone couldn't undone

But when your bottom lip quivered, and your eyes became teary his mind raced to other options, maybe you had gotten hurt or someone did.

"are you okay? Did you get hurt?" He asked, using his heightened senses to try and see if he could pick up the scent on blood on you. He couldn't, you looked fine, at least physically.

"I'm fine", you finally mumbled out, your hands shaking slightly as you looked at peter with love and anguish. heartbreak even.

"are you sure?" he asked, concern so cristal clear in his eyes you started to regret having entered the building, gone up the stairs and knocked on the door of his home whose paint was starting to come off from the amount of time you two spend leaning against it late at night after a date.

"i just had a rough day" you answered with the most common excuse you always used when you feel too ashamed and embarrassed to be open with peter about what you felt.

Just like always, he took a hold of your hand and pulled you inside his home. his home. he didn't asked for details nor questioned the tears forming in your eyes, just lure you into his room, closed the door and made you sit down on his bed.

His bed, the one you had slept in countless times, cuddled in, made love in, fought in and now if you muster up the courage..break up in.

He knelt in front of you, your hands in his hold. his skin feeling warm and comforting and his eyes so focused on getting to know everything with just looking at you.

his soft voice being speaking, almost whispering as if anything louder would mean a death sentence, was he aware that's where this was headed?

"want to tell me what happened?" he whispered, his warm breath hitting your cold cheeks

"i just..." you tried to muster the courage to speak, but one look at his brown eyes full of concern, lips slightly parted ready to whisper sweet words in you ears till your tears stopped made it so difficult to let the truth out

"i don't know pete..." you whispered and looked down, tears leaving your eyes and falling in your intertwined hands that rested in your lap, Peter's hands receiving most of the rain from your eyes.

He didn't point it out, just held your hands more tightly, a small a gesture to let you know you could cry and entire ocean in his hands and he would swim to you without a second thought.

it only made the situation more harder to you, you were never one to confront people, always pliant and kind. it was by that nature that you had allowed yourself to stay with peter for so long. bending over backwards every time he needed you to because that was the right thing to do when he was out there saving lives out of mere selfishness.

you couldn't call it selflessness for the life of you, not when you had spent nights awake sitting by your window hoping he would show up unharmed.

[angelstate]

Part 2 of you shouldent?

hello there!!

I stopped writing for Peter Parker a little bit more than a year ago so any fic i left unfinished wont be continued (at least for a very long while)

whoever i do have other spiderman fics and cod fics that have kind of the same vibe

maybe i could post a draft i have of the Peter fics i never finished if you want

[angelstate]

"Shattering Touch"

Selfish!Soap x Victim!Reader

he was never the enemy, you know it. He was just another man who isn’t aware of the daggers he carries on his hands, too stupid to realize he is stabbing you with every gentle touch.

it doesn’t take the fault from him and it doesn’t change anything about the pain, the blood or the unfading scars on your body. You wish it did but wishing doesn’t grant anything more than hopes too ephemeral to hold onto them.

You know better than to wait around for an apology, for him to show he cares when you know he doesn’t, and it’s comical in some degree. How blissfully unaware he is of it all, how the blood on the sheets doesn’t face him as he strokes your hair while pretending the tears aren’t falling from your eyes.

If it was any other man you would’ve been out the door a long time ago, but there’s something about the way his fingers run (stab) through your hair strands, how he whispers words you don’t care to pay attention to, a sense of quietness in the unmistakable loudness his voice carries even when he is pretending like he’s revealing his secrets to you.

like he is filling the table with every possible bad thing he’s done and waiting for you to whisper back that he did it for a reason, that his good intentions behind every horrible action don’t get past you, but they do, you couldn’t see an ounce of goodness in the man lying beside you.

Maybe if you were drunk or high, stupid or naive, bitter or evil, maybe then you would've seen things from his demented perspective, maybe then everything bad he's done would seem good, like an angel mistaken for a demon. 

maybe his bruising grip would seem to be a favor rather than a punishment, but God, you are nothing but undeniably aware of his true colors, of the dark pigment his heart is made out of, what really goes through his head as he has you close to him, drawing stars with his fingers as if he hadn’t caused the wounds himself.

Part of you tries to force you to remember you entered his apartment willingly, that the discomfort only began once you realized you weren’t prepared, but if he was far too gone then what would you be able to do? Are you that strong to push him off of you?

Clearly you weren’t, and the word No never surfaced to your mouth, it didn’t spill from your lips, so who is really at fault, him for pleasuring you? or you for never telling him you didn’t want it?

Communication was never your strong point, always backtracking, stuttering over your words or never speaking at all, swallowing the discomfort until you choked on it, unable to keep to yourself because otherwise you would die.

“What’s on your mind, bonnie?” Johnny speaks after what seems an eternity of silence, breaking the little piece in your surroundings with a question you do not want to answer, he wasn’t at fault after all, still a bit of anger saturated your brain, tears falling from your eyes and wetting the pillow but no sobs fall from your lips, they are sealed shut as the two of you make eye contact.

He doesn’t speak another word, doesn’t make questions about your tears and the lack of any emotion on your face, expressionless as you study his features, remembering the scars, the dimples, the small freckles littered on his nose.

And he’s beautiful, undeniably so, but a lack of ugliness on the outside does nothing to get rid of the ugliness on the inside, you know that very well, if only you could make your way into his mind, read every little thought, see what he thinks of you. Get to know if you're just another woman on the long list of women he’s been with.

Just a vessel to get rid of his stress and then discard without a second thought, not caring to see if he broke something. You don’t know if he’s that type of man, if he can fall that low into the worst category of men roaming the earth but you don’t take your chances, trying to look into his soul even if he doesn’t give you access to it.

“Nothing” you whisper, voice strained and almost inaudible for him to understand the one word answer you so graciously gave him after what seemed to be years of silence spent in a matter of only two minutes.

Johnny doesn’t respond with words, just humming softly, as if studying your words the same way you’re studying everything about him, and it’s an intimate moment, though you can’t decide if that makes the situation better or worse. maybe it’s both, it doesn’t really matter, you can’t escape either way.

He isn’t one to keep silent, to let the awkwardness drag you two around for too long before he begins another topic of conversation even when he notices your lack of response, eager to spend time, eager to share and fascinate you with the knowledge he has, you guess that this time he wasn’t his usual self because he could sense something out of place.

A functioning clock with a sudden delay, not a drastic difference but noticeable if it’s been a regular company that only tonight seems to be out of order, and Johnny isn’t one to dwell into small changes and fuss over them, adjusting and continuing living as years in the military have taught him.

But tonight is you who seemed to have changed, and if it had been someone he didn't love then he would’ve let it pass, but is you, pretty soft spoken you, who is too afraid to use her voice to speak out about what bothers you. And because it’s you he can’t help but bring himself to care about your state, not knowing how to approach you to help you.

Like trying to aid a wounded wild animal, dangerous and unpredictable but he is wholeheartedly dedicated to be the rescue he knows you need, unaware that he is one who harmed you in the first place.

“Does it hurt?” He asks yet another question, voice a little bit more warm and gentle, one he doesn’t necessarily use, but you are always deserving of the most gentle touch, even if the most gentle he can be still causes bruises that you can’t seem to heal.

And of course it hurts, and aches deep into your bones that makes every limb feel like it’s shattered and beyond repair, but so hurts your mind, and there is no remedy for that either. you don’t blame him right now, can’t bring yourself to, maybe in the morning you will, but the sun is gone and therefore any sort of rage is gone too.

“A bit, yeah” you respond, body curling on itself till your almost in a fetal position, burying your face in the pillow as more tears fall from your eyes, and you don't feel used nor dirty, just stupid and submerged in a type of pain that aches but isn’t big enough to manifest in bruises, so you can only guess that is all in your mind.

that your brain is making you feel the pain in your limbs so as to not drive your mind into madness, but if it’s a means to survive then you’re doing it very poorly as you always do. 

Johnny places a hand on your cheek ,the warmth of his palm seeping into your cold skin, a shuttered breath passing through your lips, your eyes closing tightly as if that would stop the tears from flowing so desperately out of them, like everything is trying to escape from inside, if only you could escape from yourself too.

“Mind telling me how to help you Bonnie? i don’ like seeing you like this” is stupidly sweet of him, so out of character yet a perfect demonstration of who he is behind closed doors, and you would follow him everywhere if he spoke this softly to you always, if he was this gentle and caring.

You shouldn’t make the sweet moment bitter with past memories of when he forgets kindness exists and harms you out of selfishness, but it is as if your brain can help but bring everything out all at once, trying to create a disorientated perception as to how everything is developing right now. You hate yourself at times because of this.

“i don’t want help” you say, voice so infuriatingly soft and gentle at this moment even though you’re dying on the inside, because even when you refuse to be helped by him you can’t stop but be apologetic when you deny him of something as simple as coddling you, when it’s rare the instances he actually brings himself to think of you in a way that isn’t centered around himself.

“I didn't ask that, did i? asked yae how can i help yae, not if yae wanted help bonnie” he replies to your words with an almost mocking tone, and if it wasn’t for the gentleness his eyes held you could have sworn he was angry at you for not relying on him to calm down.

and you didn’t need his help nor did you want it, your only wish to be out the door, wanting to run away from him, to never face your problems and to be left alone forever. But with him it is not possible, holding you hostage as he wants to do something good against your will.

and at some point you feel witless in his hands as he begins to mold you into what he wants you to be, to make you take and give everything he demands, if it had been in another instance you would've bent over backwards to accommodate him, but not tonight.

because you're naked in a bed that isn’t yours, covering your body with blankets that do nothing to keep you warm and it’s humiliating to be in this position with someone who claims to love you more than he loves himself, you would call bullshit if you had the energy to do so.

The truth is that this always ends with you admitting that even with every bad thing he does, you forgive him regardless.

He’s Johnny, the man who does things wrong before getting them right, who is apologetic in the end even if it takes time for him to get there. He is a good man when he wants to be. You force yourself to remember that.

He doesn’t want to fight you or see you leave tonight, there’s a loneliness that comes with not having you by his side that leaves him empty and breathless in ways that doesn’t let him sleep at night, you’re a sort of drug that he needs to consume often as to not lose his sanity.

“there’s no way for you to help me” It’s a dry response, you know it is, but you’ve never been good with delivering the truth to someone who would rather not hear it even if they need to. Johnny is the type of person who prefers to live in his delusions than to see the bigger picture. Especially when it comes to you.

If he means any good right now he makes sure to not make it noticeable, a frown on his eyebrows as he looks at you like you had denied him water after spending hours under the sun on a hot summer day.

Tonight is cold and humid thankfully, you’re not depriving him of nothing he needs, just of his wants. 

You don't resent him from demanding, knowing he means well in his own selfish way, but this isn’t about him and that is reason enough to shut him off, to try and fix something he didn’t even realize he broke. It is too late to make him care either way.

For the rest of the week he doesn’t know anything about you, you vanished like a cloud of smoke does with the wind, almost like your sole existence had been a fidget of his imagination, a delusion that got too real.

He's determined to find you again, to make something out of the lack of your presence while he collects the broken pieces he finds along the way of meeting you again, and he knows he’s done something wrong to cause you this much recoil after being by his side.

There must be a reason as to why you left and refuse to let him in again despite his words of worry, you must have a particular motive to shut him down so harshly because he is beginning to doubt you ever existed in his life in the first place, like an imaginary friend his mind suddenly vanished.

“Cap, do you know anything about the lass?” Johnny finally brings himself to ask about you to other people, swallowing his pride and accepting that if he wanted to recover the contact he didn’t know why he lost with you then he must ask the right people, like Captain Price.

“Why the question?” Price doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a straight answer, and Johnny knows he doesn’t exactly deserve it, you're not one to desert people without a reason but still, being denied an explanation makes him bitter.

Soap doesn’t and bring himself to answer him because truth to be told, he doesn’t want to speak about being ignored by the only person that brought any sense of innocence into his life, he doesn’’t want to say out loud he had been the reason of your sudden dissappearance although he doesn’t know which exact part of him fuck everything up.

he swallows the bitterness that threatens to spill from his mouth, he is a bad man but he isn’t a bad soldier or so he tries to remember that at this moment, he knows to be a behaved dog, that it won't do any good to bite, bark will have to do.

In his mind it isn’t fair how you get to hide and pretend he doesn’t exist like nothing has ever happened, and maybe he’s being selfish, maybe he’s surrounded himself too much with Ghost that now morals seem to strip off of him no matter how much a small part of him whispers he’s done something wrong.

“Lass hadn’t been doing alright the last I saw her, that’s why” Soap lies through his teeth, making a point in being vague and cleaning himself off of any fault, if you hadn’t told Price about whatever made you run away then Soap wasn’t going to be giving off any signal he had something to do with it. Evil or not, he cared for what his Captain thought of him.

Price seems to be deep in thought for a moment, taking a puff from his cigar and holding the smoke into his lungs before exhaling, a cloud forming around him and dispersing, the smell of tobacco lingering all around the room.

“I haven't seen her” the captain finally speaks, his voice gruff and with a glint of something else, something Soap can’t identify but makes his back feel like it’s on fire. furthermore, he feels as if he's being lied to, price must know where you are, after all you don't just lose your pet and not go looking for it, right?

“Is there a reason she could've come into my office, Sargent?” Price presses into the matter and although he's a straightforward man, there's something deep into his chest that makes him act differently this time, taking precaution around the ticking bomb that Johnny was.

Soap exhales through his nose and his hands form into tight fists and then releases his grasp, breathing in all the oxygen he can steal from between the clouds of smoke and nicotine in the room.

“Lass has been acting skittish, s’all. wouldn't want her…hurt” He replies tilting his head a little too much to the side to be seen as a natural movement and even less so a comfortable position for his neck to uphold, all the blood pooling to one side of his brain, concerning because of how much sanity he already seems to lack.

He returns to his normal stance of confidence, arrogance. It seems he slipped the mask back on after a moment of weakness, hiding the ugliness he knows nobody should see.

The words Captain Price thought of speaking get lost in the smoke filling the room the more he listens to Soap talk, he'd never been one to judge but is his job to notice change, to pinpoint the rotten apple among the other fruit.

It worries him that Soap, no, Johnny appears to be rotting, decaying like an aching tooth from too much sugar. It makes Price wonder about you and if by any chance your sweetness is the one rotting away his Sargent.

(hiii~ im thinking about turning this into a small series so i force myself to write again)

[angelstate]

[angelstate]

“Understood and Seen”

Miserable!Ghost x Miserable!Reader

Loneliness was something he was used to, the weight of years of social isolation had managed to tame him enough that seeking a lover seemed to be an action he rather not do, he appreciated too much the quietness at night, the ability to walk away from somewhere and not be missed, not having to worry about leaving someone behind if he were to die in the battlefield.

it brought a sense of peace in a way, a sadistic and destructive one in the long run, destined to forever be desolated, to perish with no one holding his hand as he takes his last breath. It was a miserable ending, as Johnny made him see.

Then you came along, pretty smile and the touch of a pristine and unblemished angel, unaware of the torture that could be being a human, like you were created for the sole purpose of bringing peace to the disturbed people roaming the earth like himself.

it would’ve been stupid to let you go, to not let his claws sink into your skin, no matter how much he wanted to leave you untouched and well like when he first met you. What’s another sin under his name? if he is destined to burn in hell for having touch you, then he would endure infinite torture just for the opportunity to hold your hand.

It was cruel truly, the way you could never seem to stop gifting feathers from your wings till you couldn’t fly away from the greedy hands of miserable people, trying to snatch your bones and limbs to suffice themselves.

he felt bad at times, your struggle was visible even when you tried to hide it behind kind smiles, gentle touches and soft hearted worry. giving and being stolen from while thanking those who took, comforting them if they felt awful about grabbing more than they needed.

Sometimes kindness took opportunities away from you more than it gave them, you were a clear example that sometimes being a good person gets you nowhere, he should know, his family was killed when he chose to be good.

quietness didn’t suit you, that’s what simon believed after knowing you for almost two years. The beaming energy is always present even when you are just sitting on a chair with a book in your hands. A sort of joy was always there, a faint hum always leaving your lips, like you couldn’t stand the quietness in any way.

therefore, the sight in front of him is weird to say the least, you were sitting in your usual chair, no book in hand, eyes opened as you stared out the window, there was no one outside, the heavy rain had stopped the ability of trainees and other soldiers to go outside and do their normal schedules.

so what were you looking at? he couldn’t exactly tell, maybe the rain? but then again, you weren’t one to get hung up on sad aspects of life, the way rains interrupts the flow of your life, takes away opportunities of doing things out in nature because risking your health is something you rather not do, knowing you were too needed to compromise something so important for your own enjoyment, you can “fill your enrichment time doing other things after all” or that’s what you always told him.

you closed the doors that opened for you every time you could, not taking opportunities if it meant you couldn’t give one to another person, being selfless is a step away from being self destructive, Simon believed you had already walked past the distance though.

far too gone for your own good, but what can he do, when he is the type to walk away every time life asks for more than he’s willing to give, and you are only able to walk impossibly closer to give more than life asks you to hand over.

He's too different to understand you, it’s futile to try and adopt your perspective. He doesn’t spend time doing rotten work, not even for himself, although he allows himself to sympathize with you.

“enjoying the rain?” he asks suddenly, breaking you out of your chain of thoughts.with a harsh soop, sometimes you wished he wasn’t so good at gathering your attention.

you hummed in confirmation at his words, eyes briefly looking towards him, gaze with a dimmed glee in it. something was missing, he could sense it in his every bone, every fiber of his being buzzed as a signal there was a thing out of place, interrupting the usual peace and joy that circulated all around you.

“reminds me of home” you muttered softly, and if it wasn’t for the otherwise quiet and empty room he wouldn’t have been able to hear you. your words ring loudly on his ears and he doesn’t know what to do, for what feels like an eternity of desolation.

home is a word that he doesn’t hear often, people tend to avoid the word like it’s a curse when he’s around, pretending that the existence of a place to go after work is nonexistent. He is grateful sometimes for the quietness in regards to the topic of belonging somewhere but it’s also disheartening.

your answer doesn’t taste bitter in his mouth, it is rather sour and sweet. a complex mix of feelings he is used to experience but still finds overwhelming all the same as the first time he felt them. even without meaning to, you’re able to carve a way into his heart.

it’s like you’re threatening to prove to him that there’s more to life than what he has experienced so far, it terrifies him in a way he would never indulge or admit out loud.

“homesick?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, it wasn’t something unusual for soldiers to experience, even he, with nowhere to go back to, sometimes also felt homesick, the idea of a home most of all but it still counted in his book.

“something like that…rain just made it a bit more painful” you responded to his question, tone so somber that he could feel some of the sadness seep into his skin. today you didn’t feel like being chirpy and he couldn’t really blame you.

you took a deep breath, eyes looking towards him and away from the window, like your mind had finally processed you were talking to someone and not solely focused on pleasing them. Simon watched as you twisted in your seat to face him, a smile on your lips he knew was just part of your routine rather than a sign of your actual feelings.

Everyone gets through life in a different way, he could only imagine how exhausting it must be to try and make everything positive when you’re clearly struggling to float in an ocean of emotions that most people chose to just sink to the bottom and drown.

“sorry..i shouldn’t be gloomy, rain is amazing for the plants” you said apologetically, a red tint in your cheeks he knew was because of embarrassment.

you felt stupid being upset about something so simple, the rain and a home was something a lot of people didn’t have in their lives and yet you believed you had the right to be sad about something that should be appreciated.

even without meaning to, you were selfish. selfish…God, what would your mother think about the way you were behaving if she was here right now?

your mind taunts you with whispers, as if the smallest of memories carried the weight of years of pain “don’t be a disappointment, make her proud…for the love of God make her at least not regret having you.”

It feels ridiculous and you question yourself a second too long, maybe you should go to therapy like captain price had suggested all those months ago, no shame in asking for help, you cannot always survive on your own, one way or another you will find yourself also needing things from people to be happy.

“I hate the bloody rain…disturbs combat sessions” Simon said, trying to somehow make you feel less conscious about hating some aspects of life. Everyone is entitled to feel a certain way about things and it's time you understand that.

He wished he could bring himself to say more, a thought in the back of his head that told him you deserved to be one of the people he let into his life after seeing you consistently be present and helpful in every way you can. Maybe he was taking advantage of the situation.

But how could he not do so, you dedicated every ounce of energy running through your veins to comfort the disturbed, like it would fix the people who were born broken, shattered from the womb, welcomed into the world with death and violence.

“that’s a valid reason…yeah” you answered more to yourself than to him, his words replaying in your mind like a broken record, what wouldn’t you give to allow yourself to hate something so openly, to say you hated something and not hear your mother on the back of your head telling you to be grateful, that you were too selfish for hating things people liked and needed.

Simon shrugged, he didn’t need a valid reason to hate the rain, he guessed you were just talking through him, the need to have a valid point to dislike something seemed to be very important to you, almost anguishly so.

“It doesn't need to be valid love…you can have an opinion about the bloody rain without having a reason” he commented, breaking the silence that seemed to stretch for a longer period of time as the conversation went on with great difficulty, the both of you communicating because you thought the other needed it.

two helpless souls who cope in different ways, you were like the embodiment of trying to save people from drowning while not knowing how to swim yourself, and he was the water, taking down every living thing that he let into his space, killing without meaning to, almost unaware of the danger that lie within himself, a graveyard with not memory of the people he buried in it.

you understand his point of view, why he speaks what he does, but it doesn’t help you to accept that having a lack of reasoning isn’t in itself a death sentence to your worth. that you’re allowed to live happily hating something as insignificant as the rain and not be a bad person for it.

this goes beyond the simple rain though, you know it, he knows it but neither of you is ready to recognize it, cowardly so, but you’re not even worthy to criticize even your own behavior so you keep your mouth shut as time continues to pass.

some things are meant to change, the universe cannot continue its flow if they don’t. you should know that, it isn’t healthy to stay behind while pushing everyone to move forwards, wanting the past for yourself, to drown in memories of people who will not return, trying to change situations that already happened, there is no saving them, there is no saving yourself from experience it.

Moving on is a type of love, a love you have been neglecting yourself from.

Simon believes in a lot of things, God isn’t one of them, but he finds himself speaking to God more often than he cared to admit, suggesting him to give you some type of mercy, to give your mind the ability of forgiving and forgetting.

He knows it’s forlorn, that if God exists he isn't the person who God would choose to answer their prayers to, but the effort, as futile as it is, doesn't get lost on him. for once in his life he finds himself trying to seek help, not for his well being directly, but if you're fine, he will be too.

This time he doesn’t mind doing rotten work, not if it is for you.

You knew sooner or later life would catch up to you, that moving fastly wasn’t the right measure, especially when you struggled so greatly moving on from the past. It is conflicting and torturous to be pulled back and forwards constantly, your limbs cannot stand the tugging.

You're not made of rubber, the resistance will not last forever, one day you'll fall and not be able to get up. Caring for yourself is a decision you have to make, there’s no other choice but to tend after your wounds. Bleeding out is not an option.

“this is nice…” you mumbled, tracing your fingers on the hardcover of a book you had bought recently. It wasn’t often you allowed yourself to spend money on things you enjoyed, always buying things for others, the ones you believed deserved nice things more than you did.

It was a small action, one that set a mindset that you too, had the right to be a priority on your list of important things. your mother would be furious if she were by your side right now. Thankfully, sometimes death is kind, not to the people who pass, but to the people who get to live after the loss of someone who harmed them more than they took care of them.

“good to see you taking care of yourself” a voice said from behind you, spanning you out of your thoughts and bringing you back down to earth. It would have been nice to stay in your bubble for a bit longer but you're given the time you're given for now and hope to gain more in the future.

you hum, turning around and the figure of simon coming into view, your grip in the book tightens for a second before loosening in a relaxed manner, no need to bear the claws that you keep hidden to someone who is not set to harm you. not that you would hurt people that do.

you're a dog that doesn’t bark or bite, too domesticated to let instinct take over. wanting to please people more than the want to survive, dying in a pool of your own blood, proud of not bearing your teeth to someone who deserved even the slightest growl.

“is just a book” you replied as humbly as you can bring yourself to be at the moment, part of you believed you owed the biggest cordiality and humbleness to Simon, he was the one who had brought you to the point of being able to buy a book and feel half the guilt you would have experienced otherwise.

and this, in a world full of misfortune, pain and misery can only be described as an overdramatic motion to something as simple as shame to claim written pieces of paper as your own, but is difficult to not see it as the end of the world when you have never been able to even think that your suicide note is of your ownership.

Simon doesn't know the context of your so-called humbleness but he can shoot a guess in the dark and find the target quickly as everyone who cared to give you the slightest bit of attention did.

that was humiliating of course, and he knew better than to bring it up and throw you into a pool of more shame than you could survive in, drowning by the minute, unaware there was no bottom to sink to, just an eternity of feeling unwelcome into your own body and life.

“I have books too” he tries to approach the subject in a way you would,with carefulness and gentleness palpable but he is the furthest thing away from a cautious person when it came to feelings, not indulging in them the same way other people did, barely able to feel any at all most of the time.

So he ends up sounding as stupid as you often feel when speaking to people in the same tone, he cringes at his lack of ability to show he cares in a loving and indirect way, the gentleness of showing you care with more than overused words and phrases.

“What type of books do you read?” you ask, trying to find a crevice to slip through in his life as you always did, but every corner seemed to be sealed shut.

oh how much he wished you would just notice the door he opened just for you to walk in and never leave again.

This is stupid, that much is clear on his mind and yet at the same time the intimate tone of the conversation leaves him starving for more of you, a connection more profound than the care and worry you feel towards him who you think is forced to stand by your side.

“Philosophy” he responds, muttering gruffly his answer like the word feels heavy on his tongue, letting himself be known and seen by someone he feels may just be as rogue as him.

“Lovely…philosophy feeds the soul and kills it in the same motion” you comment, head tilted and eyes focused on the twitch his eyebrows do every few seconds, like it is the only way his emotions can manifest without being shut down by him.

“or my uncle used to say that, it can be false…i don't really read philosophy” yet again you find yourself explaining your words, fumbling over everything that could be said to give a reason to what leaves your mouth.

Do you give meaning to your words, or does the person who hears them?

Is tragic really, it is as if you can't help but run in circles around the idea that Simon would misunderstand you and walk away.

but you guess that the fear is to some degree acceptable, when all your life you've focused on understanding others, at the mere sight of someone trying to understand you you panic, worrying that what you are isn't pretty, worrying they won't understand the ugliness they might find.

All that is left is to let go, Can you let go?

The willingness to live and not just survive is something you have to find within yourself, and walking that path alone is not something you have to do.

Simons stands by your side, an understanding that whatever it is that weighs you down and attached you to your past is worth loving if it means to bring peace to a restless soul.

He wasn't wrong when he first met you, you are an angel who brings peace to the disturbed people roaming the earth, he just wishes the disturbance wasn't a disease.

he wished he had kept you pristine and unaware, no angelical being deserves to experience being a human, you did not deserve the torture that it is to be mortal, to lose and to be hurt.

[angelstate]

“Millionaire's Shortbread And a Grieving Heart”

Conflicted!Soap x InLove!Reader

Like a dog without an owner, Soap can’t help but linger around you, seeking the comfort of a home he lost a long time ago, and he knows you shouldn’t be used as an outlet for his solitude and hidden misery.

But if there is something you do spectacularly well is remind him of the warmth of the sun on his skin on a summer afternoon, standing in front of his mother as she wraps a towel around him, drying his wet body from being on the pool for too long, quivering from the cold wind hitting his skin, it’s a very specific feeling.

You’re nothing short of special so it only makes sense for you to be the embodiment of the feeling a memory he didn’t know he missed caused on him, you are comforting in a way he can’t seem to fully understand.

You don’t hold it against him either, welcoming him with open arms and a smile every time he comes around, seeking that same feeling over and over again, never being able to be apart from it for too long, or otherwise he would go mad.

He trusts you with his heart, he knows it’s the only place secure enough where there will be no harm made to the most fragile part of him, you are stability, you are comfort, you are love. and isn’t that one of the only things most humans can’t seem to get right? there must be something about you that is so remarkable to be forged into the angel you are.

“I read about Scottish pastries the other day” you commented suddenly, breaking the silence that had formed between the last 30 minutes, moving your eyes from the TV to him, a smile on your lips he could only compare to catching a glimpse of what heaven looked like, pure and so undeniably beautiful.

“yeah?” He can only bring himself to mutter that, too mesmerized at the way your face reveals every emotion crossing your heart, a laid-out map for him to know every piece of you with one simple look if he wasn’t dazzled by the pristine state of it all of course.

you hum in confirmation, turning to look away from him for a moment, searching for something on your phone, looking a bit desperate, like the information you were trying to find would disappear if you took another second “Do you like millionaires’ shortbread?” you ask, a recipe of said dessert on your phone screen as you showed him.

There were a lot of emotions linked to said pastry, he remembers his grandmother serving it during breakfast, sneaking into the kitchen, and stealing a piece when he was supposed to be asleep. He remembers his mother, sweet as she was, packing his father a big piece for him to eat his lunch with before he went to work.

He never really ate it after his Grandmother passed away though, no matter where he went the pastry never tasted as sweet, as rich, and as delicious as the way that sweet older woman who raised him made it, it was a shame really, he wished at times the taste could’ve been generic but still nostalgic, to be able to find the memory of his grandmother in every bakery but he never did, he guessed he was bound to slowly forget the taste of motherly love he was granted when he was a kid.

“It’s alright..” he responds simply like there’s nothing attached to such pastry, he doesn’t find the importance of telling you about him, you know enough about him to know that regardless of the emotional connections he had with certain things, he was never one to share those which had turned from happy to sad.

you hummed once more, moving your phone to be close to you once more, scrolling through the website you were in, you didn’t seem to mind the undertone of coldness in his voice, used to understanding when he wanted to drop the subject or not go into debt.

He knew you had questions forming in your head, a sense of curiosity, wanting to peak being the curtains that hid his reasons, memories, and pains of his theatrical personality, you were as discreet as an elephant at that sort of thing, but he was aware you held no malice behind the interest you tried to hide out of respect for his privacy.

“I was thinking about baking it” You only speak after two minutes of silence, and for a moment he wished the silence had extended for long enough that he forgot entirely the context of the conversation, to not have a clue and therefore not get his feelings twisting inside his heart they way they were now, a mix of nostalgia and sadness washing over him, but swallowed the feelings as soon as they came.

“you should, Bonnie..is a pretty good pastry” he decided to not interfere or shut down the obvious desire you had for baking something from Scotland, he guessed it was to get closer to him, and who was he to deny you of such thing when you’ve been nothing short of lovely to him no matter the circumstances.

You had caught him in a vulnerable place, he wasn’t going to deny that much. you didn’t know the important dates in his life besides his birthday and the anniversary of when he became part of the 141, you were clueless as to why today out of all days, the pastry on your hands wasn’t appreciated in the slightest.

Why he couldn’t look at you with appreciation was unknown to you, but that didn’t stop you from approaching, a neatly cut and expensive-looking pastry you had talked about baking 3 days ago, he knew you enjoyed baking, the act of cooking something for the people you love. and he knew you had pure intentions, you always did, but this wasn’t the moment to be pure, today wasn’t the time to let you into his heart no matter how much he would've enjoyed the company.

“I brought you-” your words get cut off rather quickly by him, the softness of your voice dying in your throat as he avoids looking at you, focusing on whatever weapon he had in his hand, cleaning it with a dirty rag you doubted was doing any actual cleaning to the object.

“Not right now Bonnie” he spoke, his voice holding no energy or joy as it usually did, he never seemed to be so against being by your side, always being the one following you around, the mere fact you had to be the one to find him today had already made you worried.

and you stand frozen in your place, his room was always messy but cozy, but today that feeling was nowhere to be seen anywhere, the fourth walls felt claustrophobic and eerie, like an itch on a place you can’t scratch, uncomfortable enough to feel like crying you hummed taking two steps towards his desk and setting the plate with the pastry softly on the surface, a fork next to it so he could eat when he wished, now not being the best moment to linger and press for him to try the dessert you made.

Johnny was difficult to read much to your dismay, like the universe full of things that no one had ever discovered, you doubted you'd get to be one of the lucky people who would ever discover something about him because despite knowing each other for years there was still a feeling of not knowing one another in ways comrades should have.

You were close and constantly around one another but there was a sort of distance neither of you ever cared to walk to be fully friends, it’s a weird situation to be constantly chased by Johnny and at the same time never being fully the thing he’s chasing at all.

like a dog who loses his focus on his toy and decides he would rather chase the butterflies around him before returning to the only thing that can never go away from him, bound to stay whether she likes it or not.

“See you later” she muttered so softly she doubted he heard her at all, although she would rather go unnoticed by the man who wanted her to be gone the moment she stepped into his room. God, love makes people weird.

You must have done something horrible to him, truly horrible because the next time he saw you he had no words or attention to give you even though you had been patient and understanding of his weird mood the other day.

and you thought very deeply about what you had done, said or even wrote about in your diary, anything to understand why he was behaving like you were nothing but a room he could walk in and out of without ever caring what he abandoned time and time again.

“did you not like the pastry?” you asked with bravery and a bit of anxiousness in your chest, after being ignored for 3 days, craving a closeness you weren’t owed by him, you had finally decided that it was too much for your heart to be away from him any longer, wanting at the very least a clarification as to what you had done wrong in the first place, a reassurance than maybe he just realized he wasn’t keen in being your friend, any sort of closure, even if it was fake and forced to not harm your soul and heart more than it already was.

“You didn’t disgrace a Scottish God so all is well lass” he joked, of course, he did. chuckling at his own words while you could only look at him, waiting and waiting for him to expand, say another thing that wasn’t borderline mocking towards your worry and anguish.

“did you like it then?” you press, wording your thoughts in another way, still indirect. God, maybe the bravery you claim to have was fake, but you wished nothing but to go back to normal, and if faking being a confident woman was the path to take then you would do it gladly.

“it was good” he replied, looking away from you like you had stopped existing in the room, an invisible being being ignored, how fucking stupid and true that statement was to the situation you were in. it was more than good, though. To him, it tasted like home, like hearing a soft and playful scolding from his grandmother when he stole a spoonful of cold caramel from the pot, like the sun filtering through the curtains of his childhood home in the countryside, warmth and inviting, nostalgic and heartbreaking.

how were you able to recreate yet another unique and familiar feeling of home went past him, the way you recreated the taste of his grandmother’s pastry was something as amusing as magic to him, completely clueless as to how you had done it yet refusing to ask questions, knowing some things weren’t meant to be known no matter how much you craved the knowledge.

He hated how much he loved you and the warmth you emitted without even realizing the importance it held to him to be bathed in it every chance he had, how sometimes it overwhelmed him on the anniversary of his grandmother’s death, and how it brightened his mood on his birthday, you had the ability to manipulate his emotions and yet were so blissfully unaware of it.

It seemed to be a curse and a blessing knowing you and having you close all the time, lingering around him as much as he did you, a magnetic pull neither of you could escape even if your sanity depended on it.

“I’m glad, I uhm…I’m sorry if I did something bad to upset you the other day…I honestly didn’t mean to do anything” and you speak after what seemed to be an eternity of silence, like being placed on the purgatory and then pulled out of it only to land in heaven.

you sound sorry, as you often do when you are not able to bend over backward for people who often don’t deserve it, but you’ve always believed that Johnny was one of the few men who was deserving of your best efforts, of the apologies you muttered more often than not, the softness and gentleness in which you carried yourself to never make people feel threatened but welcomed in your presence.

he felt sorry for making you feel this way, and he wasn’t a complicated man, one who held grudges the way Ghost did at least, he still held anguish and anger a lot and you’ve never been the source of it, or the place he discarded those emotions, knowing it wasn’t fair to make you a victim of his pain no matter how much he would’ve love to pure the good and the ugly onto you so you knew him fully.

“you did nothing wrong lass, just caught me on a bad day, s’all” and he explains simply something that wasn’t simple at all, how can you put grief and love into words, separating the two nouns and give them different meanings when they were the same thing at the end of the day, he loved the mourning and he loved the life on your face.

you understand as much as you can, as much as your mind will let you while your heart breaks because it wasn’t lost on you the clear way he was trying to evade you but not the topic, you were the problem and you hadn’t even meant to be it.

You wished he didn't have bad days, that every morning he woke up on the right side of the bed, that his coffee always stayed warm, that his pillows remained cold and soft, that every meal he ever eats is flavorful and hot, that his winter nights are spent in the warmth of his bed and that his summer days were spent sitting under a tree, the shade salvaging his skin from the harsh sun rays shining towards everything unable to escape them.

You have so much good in your heart, so much to give and never thinking of receiving something in return, finding pleasure and solace in simply helping others, dedicating your time and effort to people while you rot in unsolved problems that are long overdue and dragging you backwards while you try to move forward.

“I think I did disgrace a Scottish God” you say after a minute of silence and palpable tension, Johnny hums, sounding confused and he turns to look at you for a second, eyebrows furrowed as he studies the expression on your face, you look distraught to say the least, like you had tried to pet a stray cat and it ran away from you.

“did you?” he asks, humoring your words even though you had no joking tone, sounding more so sad and guilty at whatever it is that now sat heavily on your shoulders, shrinking you into a small animal with nowhere to escape its predator, he prayed not to be the source of your sorrow.

“I changed the recipe..so if it tasted bad you can just say so..should’ve just stuck to the instructions on the website” you explained, sounding apologetic, sorrowful, and unmistakenly guilty of something that wasn’t even a problem to him, maybe you had a different look on it, maybe you hadn’t liked the taste and felt guilty thinking that he hadn’t too.

“I liked it lass” he replies with a chuckle, shaking his head like he can’t believe you could ever think or even be able to create something he didn’t like, you weren’t capable of such a thing, everything you did flourish richly, like an angel healing every broken thing into the world with only a small touch.

“tasted like the one my granny made when I was a wee lad” he confessed what, to any normal people would just be a small piece of information that they would never think about again, but you weren’t just any person, no. you were an angel so therefore any memory who held love you cherished just as equally, even if it wasn’t yours.

and you think what he revealed to you to be a sort of call from heaven, a piece of him being gifted to you and only you for the moment, of course, you know better than to think you’re the only one aware of this information but it’s nice to dream, to fantasize that out of all people, he decided you were the best one to confide in.

“Is that a good thing?” you ask, so unaware of what it meant yet also knowing that it must be special enough for him to feel the need to somehow have you around and yet wanting you far away from him.

in that way you are the same as him, grief is a heaviness that one carries so strongly that it becomes suffocating when someone comes into your life and resembles something you missed so much, like memories are brought back to life and you can’t decide whether you wanted them to stay that way or bury them all again, fearing that they would be ripped away from you a second time. Life isn’t kind. “I would say so, yes” he replies and you nod, like a stray dog with nothing left but to accept whatever it can receive from the people who continuously lose and gain attention towards her. You won’t mistake him for someone as low as that, but it’s the feeling that it gives when he looks at you like you had been one of the reasons his grandmother was no longer by his side.

“That's nice…” you hum after your words, trying to find a distraction somewhere in the room, but like the earth to the sun, your focus always gravitates around him, catching glimpses and warmth from every piece of his you can get, even if it brings you to a boiling point.

Johnny is not one to admit his faults, not directly at least, he isn’t the best with words when it comes time to bear his heart to people who clearly deserve to be let into that place of him. but it’s hard at times, people around him die, and you aren’t one who is directly at risk, which makes him think he has more time to waste, but if isn’t death that will pull you away from him then it probably will end up being him who unknowingly does, the process had started along time ago.

he had to be thankful for your resilience to abandon people even if it isn’t healthy for you to stick around for so long, he should be thankful for a lot of things, that’s what he believes, but if saying sorry was hard, then it became an impossible mission to confess how much it meant to him your desire to stay by his side even when everything screams at you not to.

so he decides to stay silent, something he really shouldn’t do in this type of situation, with a person like you, who he had become aware hated the loudness of miscommunication and he, who hated the serious words that he often was forced to spill from his lips, always willing at the end, but deep down he felt tired of being professional in mundane situations.

“Let’s forget anything happened, yeah?” you suggest like the angel you are, embarrassed enough to not want to poke whatever it was that now distanced you from him, and it’s not unusual the weird look on his eyes and the chuckle leaving his lips, acting nonchalant and like nothing is serious with you, but still feels out of place, like this time it shouldn’t be there.

“good idea lass” he replies to your suggestion with a disguised open heart, he feels at ease knowing that at the very least, even if you don't understand him still decided to set your heart into accepting the lack of context and choosing to rather hold onto the peaceful feeling that was at the very least, not be ignored by the man in front of you.

One step at a time as your mother said, there is no rush in meeting people and falling in love, it takes time and dedication to enter someone’s life and be allowed to stay, and you're a patient woman, a kind-hearted person who would stop the world if it meant to give mere seconds to save the life of another alive being.

Johnny appreciates it more than he lets on, and he isn’t like Simon, he doesn’t pretend the effort isn’t there or doesn’t acknowledge it, he does, being attentive and caring, returning to his roots of following you around like it’s his life mission to be your companion.

It’s not an easy life the one the two of you have, but he can make time, he can drop the energized need to fight and make everything better in the world to take his time and fall into your arms, thinking of you more often than not, carrying you in his chest, seated next to his grandmother.

who he believes, would’ve loved you as much as he loves the taste of the pastry that connects you with his childhood memories, an ever-lasting emotion that sticks into the roof of his mouth like the caramel from the millionaire's shortbread.

[angelstate]

OMG!!!! i love your reaction to the story girl 😭😭😭

you literally had the same reaction i had as i was writing it and i love you for that!!

it really is the little details that start to pile up and hurt the most

your analogy of the glitter box is spot on btw 💔💔

anyway thank you so much for your reaction, had me crying as i read my little fic and your opinion on it. love u xx 💕💕

“Unprioritized Love”

Husband!Price x Wife!Reader

Price is a loyal person, he thinks about everyone else before himself and doesn’t hesitate to do something he normally would be against if it means saving the people he cares for, it truly is a blessing at times, the way his priorities don’t falter…until they do.

because he is a loyal person but does not know or pretends not to know in which situations he should stand by one person instead of the other, it’s conflicting for him to choose someone when another person is also expecting his support.

it hurts a lot when you’re caught in that sort of situation with him, you’re his lover, his companion in life, and the person he returns home to, but you’re also the person he leaves behind for his team, you’re the one who waits around for him while the team gets him almost all the time.

and you know jealousy isn’t healthy, that you shouldn’t resent anyone because it's his job, he has to leave to provide for you, you cannot bite the hand that feeds you, it would be wrong, it wouldn’t be pretty, it wouldn’t be fair for him.

so you bite your tongue and nod like a child when he tells you about his job, about him going away once more, for longer this time. and the tears in your eyes are hard to be held back, because God, it hurts a lot to be left behind, all by yourself. away from your family and your lover, only an empty home to satisfy your basic needs.

He doesn’t mean to be an absent presence, the lack of a lover in your life. He truly doesn’t mean to give so little to you, to not hold you every night. but between his job and you…he knows which one he isn’t choosing even if he doesn’t say it out loud. 

“I'll be back when I can, alright?” he speaks, voice gruff as he looks around the room, his hands on his hips, you stay seated on the couch, knees close to your chest and your eyes glued to the TV for a distraction, is better to pretend you don’t care than to show him how much you are beginning to hate the dynamic he created in your life.

“mhm” you hum in agreement, taking a big breath and holding it in before exhaling through your nose, not trusting that if you open your mouth, a sob wouldn’t escape, Price notices the lack of words from your part, you always have something to say, a small joke to make about him better bringing you a souvenir or something from his “trip” but when this time you don’t speak or even dare to look at him makes him anxious.

“Want me to bring you something?” he asks, taking a few steps towards you, looking towards the TV, a baking program playing, and your focus on the show makes him raise an eyebrow, you aren’t one to enjoy cooking so he doesn't understand why you’re watching it. 

“no thanks” you respond, and the answer makes him feel like he’s done something wrong that made you upset, the last 4 days he’s been home replaying in his mind, trying to remember what could’ve made you get angry with him, nothing comes to mind sadly, and he feels clueless about everything surrounding you. 

“I thought you don’t like cooking” He decides to comment, shifting the conversation to something more banal and easy to speak about. “I started baking almost 8 months ago” you answer him back, voice flat and your eyes strained on the TV, the recipe to make pavlova having your main focus, it makes Price frustrated, how you won’t look at him, won’t give him the time of day when he’s leaving tomorrow.

you don’t expect him to know how your life develops and the things that change when he's away most of the time, it wouldn’t be fair to expect him to pay you attention when he already has a tough and complicated job to do, his salary pays for the kitchen supplies and food after all. it wouldn’t be fair to expect him to know you... god, how stupid is that?

“You didn’t tell me” Price states, his voice carrying a heaviness that reveals he is irritated about not being told something he should’ve known if he paid attention to the new things in the kitchen like the stand mixer next to the electric oven. 

“I thought I mentioned it when I gave you to try the brownies I made yesterday” you retort, your eyes landing on him for a second before returning to the TV, your gaze isn’t welcoming or warm and it creates a pit on his stomach to see you so detached and unresponsive to something he knew should make you upset.

It brings a sort of heaviness to his chest as he notices he doesn’t have the right to feel offended about not being told something when you should be upset about him not noticing in the first place something that occurred in his own home. It is hypocritical and he knows it.

Price stays silent for a long time, the sound of the TV filling in the silence that was created between the two of you, he feels out of place, not knowing how to answer you, what to do, what is the problem he feels he should be fixing right now.

“you should start packing” you comment after almost five minutes, and that phrase is said with a monotone tone, not one of sadness or a little bit of frustration that he’s leaving again, it's a tone that just states the obvious, you declare that he should pack his bag once more because otherwise he would leave with nothing for his mission and that wouldn’t be optimal.

“Can you help me pack?” He asks for a favor you often offer without him mentioning wanting your help. tonight you don’t offer assistance, almost like you aren’t faced by his departure, used to his absence, used to his side of the bed being empty.

“I’m watching TV” you speak and his heart breaks a little bit, you don’t sound apologetic as you often do when you’re not able to help him, and he’s leaving but he feels you left instead, that the girl he married is no longer in the house even though he has you in front of him, too focused on looking at the tv to help him.

he nods at your answer and doesn’t try to persuade you into doing something you don’t want to, it wouldn’t be fair to force you to help him just because he wants you to, it isn’t fair for you to give a hand and for him to take your arm. Loving someone isn’t really fair.

Only when he leaves the living room to go pack do your tears make their way out of your eyes, running down your cheeks as you cry silently, vision too blurry to even distinguish the images on the TV, it feels almost pathetic to be crying alone, your lover packing to leave and not be able to bring yourself to help him abandon you once again.

If you were his pet it would be abuse for him to just leave, but you're a woman and therefore being alone and left behind isn’t unexpected, being the one to stay home is almost an obligation when your lover leaves to provide for you even if you wish they stayed.

you’re not sure how it begins to be fair to be put in this situation, when the missions of 4 weeks turned into 4 months. When knowing everything about each other turned into barely remembering anniversaries and birthdays.

You don’t want to say the relationship fell apart because you doubt there’s anything at all to be destroyed anymore, you love him though, the pain in your chest and the tears falling from your eyes are proof of that, but you are not sure John loves you.

It’s uncertain how he views you after not spending time together for almost two years, you doubt there is nothing more than just an acknowledgment of your existence in his life, a statement that he knows you're his partner but not enough love to call you his lover.

“Why are you crying darling?” the sudden voice of Price pulls you out of your thoughts, the place next to you on the couch sinking as he takes a sit beside you, resting his elbows on his knees while his eyes examine your expression, you look utterly distraught about something, your breathing uneven and shaky as you begin to sob loudly, unable to talk as all your emotions came crashing down.

and the sight of you crying, digging your nails into your thighs, and being desperate for a peace that will not come, makes a heavy feeling of guilt and worry sit on his shoulders, wrapping an arm around your waist and another under your knees, bringing you into his lap and putting your face on the crook of his neck while you cried, sobs muffled against his skin, your tears wetting his shirt.

“take a deep breath love” Price says in your ear, your breathing so erratic that it makes him worried you will suffocate at some point because of the lack of oxygen in your body, he feels your chest against him as you do as he told you, taking deep breaths the best you can, trying to calm down for your and his sake.

you’ve never been one to cry with so much despair, to need his comfort in times of need because you managed well on your own, he was never around to solve your sorrow either so why bother? But today, he is the reason you're crying and it seems fair that he is the one to comfort you, that your only chore is to cry and keep your breathing somewhat stable while he does everything else to fix what he broke.

He doesn't know where to begin though, unaware of where he stands or what he should do to bring peace into your mind, what words will fix his mistake, and what words will tear you apart even more, he doesn’t want to cause you harm, not consciously, not right now. it wouldn’t be fair to you, it wouldn’t be fair to your heart, it would be cruel. and he doesn’t want to be cruel to you, not anymore.

“I’m sorry love…I should’ve been good to you” he whispers, kissing the top of your head, rocking you back and forth on his lap, soothing you like he would to a child, his voice low and soft, his hand caressing your thighs in a comforting manner. 

“I don’t know why I didn’t notice that you started baking, it was wrong, I didn’t notice you when I should’ve noticed every change you’ve had over the last two years” he continuous, speaking out the guilt he carried in his chest the moment he saw you and heard you break down into tears, your sobs engraved in his mind.

“I’m really sorry for missing out on all of this when I was gone, I shouldn’t have been such a bad husband, you don’t deserve that” he sighs, his eyes stinting a little bit from the tears beginning to form, and your calmer now, sniffling and whimpering, the tears slowly stopping, but it seems that your distraught was transferred to him because he doesn’t feel at ease, he feels the guilt eat him alive while he soothes you.

“I don't want you to leave…” you mumble, adjusting on his lap, your head resting against his chest, you have never wanted him to leave home, to go on missions for months on end with little to no contact with your lover, it feels like you're mourning him every time he goes away and doesn’t give you a small message to let you know he wasn’t killed.

“I know sweet girl” he replies, he doesn’t want to leave either, he never wants to, even though he continues to do so. It's a complicated situation, one he doesn’t dare to think about too much because he’ll end up ripping his heart out, his loyalty not being able to distribute equally for you and his team, always the latter winning even if he doesn’t dare to admit it.

he wants to promise you he’ll return quickly this time and will take a leave just to spend time with you, to dedicate more time to what's left of your relationship, he doesn’t want your marriage to fail, you’re the only woman he wants, the only one he had ever seen himself grow old together, he doesn’t want to let that go because of his own stupid and selfish mistakes.

He has to leave tomorrow, but when he’s back he’ll fix everything.

“I'll be back soon” he mumbles against your hair, face buried in it as breathes in your smell, trying to engrave it in his mind, to not forget this time details about you he has always loved. 

Thankfully, his promise becomes reality, and after two weeks of loneliness that have never felt heavier on your chest, he returns, a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a smile on his lips, happy to see you, to see the warmth and loving gaze you always give him back in your eyes after all this time.

He steps through the door, your face pressed against his chest, refusing to let go of him, fearing he would leave even if it wasn’t unreasonable, he had returned early for you, he had seen his mistakes and was fixing what never should’ve been broken

Peace is restored in your home, love is flourishing once again in your marriage, and whatever plans you had made to start over get discarded, you’re already having a fresh start, one that doesn’t involve leaving your lover. this time is a start with a more conscious man who is ready to do everything right by you, to never let his job affect the way he loves you. He's learning that his wife comes first, that his life outside of the military also has the same and more importance than his job.

(little reminder: I'm taking requests if you want me to write something specific xx)

[angelstate]

“Broken People, Broken Things”

Broken!Simon x Kind!Reader

In times of need it's difficult for him to speak up, a nagging feeling on his chest, a sinful voice in his mind that tells him he doesn’t deserve the help he needs, that after going through so much in life he should've learned to not ask for help.

an alack sentiment filling his head, a loss of hope so profound that makes him feel hollow, no amount of soil can fill the hole in his chest. is terrifying, the absence of himself on his body, as if he can only be the shell of what he once was.

a stray dog who bites the hand that tries to feed him used to be hurt rather than helped. He knows it’s not all his fault, that life wasn’t kind to him from the very start but guilt still manages to spill through crevices, straining his sanity.

it doesn’t matter how much you try to pull him out of his self-depreciation state, his already too far gone into his own head, thoughts of self-hatred already engraved for him to be eaten alive in the middle of the night.

it’s a cannibalistic situation, being the consumer and the consumed, harming himself until he’s bleeding then wincing at the pain, licking the blood of his wound like a harmed animal, self-sufficient and self-destructive, infecting himself with more pain than he already was in, a cycle of torture with no easy ending to relieve him from the pressure in his chest.

in a world where people's opinion of you controls the way your life plays out, he understands clearly why he didn’t amount to anything worth praising, he can recognize that his life was meant to start and end in one painful motion, surrounded by nothing but despair.

He finds it comical, how life pulls his strings and leads him to suffering when he hasn’t recovered from past wounds, like the universe wants to see how clever he can get to salvage his worthless life, how badly he wants to survive despite having no motive to live.

“Are you listening to me?” you speak, voice soft and kind, pulling him out of his thoughts, like being pulled out of the ocean by a kind stranger who saw him struggle to swim, being helped to fill his lungs with air and not water. he looks down to meet your gaze, your doe eyes always holding a warmth to them, your smile of understanding and patience he doesn’t think he deserves.

“Sorry, I got distracted for a second” he answers, voice low and gruff, tongue rolling with a heaviness created by his thoughts, he should’ve listened to you speak rather than lose himself in his mind, you are the only normality his life still has, the only thing he doesn’t associate to a bad memory.

“s’okay..it’s late either way, I should let you go to sleep” you reply, sounding apologetic as you always do, looking down with what he can only guess to be embarrassment, you shouldn’t feel that way, you should never feel ashamed, he knows you never mean any harm, only acting on love and friendliness.

“I’m not tired yet” he lies, he is tired, his body is aching and begging to rest but his mind feels more active than ever, two entities disconnected and acting on their own accord, he wants to lay down and rest but he doesn’t want to leave, not yet…please, not right now.

He remembers when he was a kid, not older than 4 years old, and terrified of the night, fearing something was hiding in it, waiting for the perfect moment to attack, to kill him. His father's screams in the other room and objects crashing against the walls only fueled his fear, that when the sun goes down, the world knows no peace, that monsters come out and are searching to kill him, to kill his mother.

He never grew out of that, he knew monsters as he believed before weren’t real, but that doesn’t mean that a similar evilness isn’t around, a sort of plague, a parasite that spreads every time he blinks. nights for him didn’t get much better either, something about the quietness didn’t feel right, a wave of doom he couldn’t escape on his chest, he could only stare at the door of his room while waiting for the sun to rise, only then being able to sleep.

“I thought you would be tired, you worked so hard today” you comment, it had been mere seconds that passed until you spoke but it felt like ages, like the time slowed down, once again the universe toying with his sanity. 

you always acknowledge his efforts, his actions, and his reasoning even if you are far off of what he intended, you’re always so nice to him, pretending the rumors and whispers about his past and intentions don’t reach your ears, that you aren’t aware of them when he can’t begin to remember the amount of times he heard about them, too many to count, that’s for sure.

“it was nothing…don’t worry” he answers, but oh how much you worry, concern filling your mind every time your eyes land on him, the tiredness in his eyes evident, his heavy steps a clear sign of his body tired of carrying his weight around. you wish you could lure him into his room, put him to sleep, be able to grant him a good night's rest.

Does he want to rest? Does he deserve to rest?

he feels numb at times, something lacking in his brain, stopping him from fully connecting and experiencing his feelings. It doesn't get any easier with every passing day, hours blend together and before he knows it he’s back by your side, your praises for working so hard and doing things he doesn’t find enjoyable for the sake of everyone else around him.

“Want a cup of tea?” you offer, tilting your head to the side, voice softer and sweeter, like one that people use to lure an animal close, trying to capture him and give him a home. It’s unsettling to him how good you make the idea of being welcomed in a home and not being terrified by the people living in it, like that’s a possibility, like if he lets you put him in that cage he won’t regret it.

“would appreciate it if you made me one” he replies, hesitant and doubtful even if you have never shown a sign of evilness, but anyone who offers him something must want something back, he knows it, he was taught that was how it worked. he doesn’t know what you want, what he can give you, and that terrifies him more, he doesn’t want to owe you anything.

“Okay” you say and leave the room with quiet steps, he doesn’t dare to move from his place, eyes focused on the place you were standing a few seconds ago, he’s alone in the room, being able to hear you open the kitchen door and move things around.

he knows you’re only a few feet away, in another room, the door open and your movements are skilled and soft, but you’re still a person in another room, and he is standing alone, in the darkness remaining because the lamp on the corner table does nothing but illuminate the objects that resting on the surface, everything else is dark.

everything else makes him remember when he was a kid and he was scared, he doesn’t want to be scared anymore.

He stumbles for a second, his foot taking a step back before he can realize he is moving, losing his balance and regaining it quickly. It feels like he’s falling apart from the inside out, a pillar inside of him deteriorating to the point he isn’t able to stand the weight of his past.

He doesn't know what to do, why it affects him so much your kindness and why now out of any other time he feels like he can’t stand the fact you’re in another room, you’re not his father, you're not dangerous, you’re not his mother, you’re not in danger. So why is he so worried he feels like suffocating? 

you affect him in ways he doesn’t like, it makes him feel self-conscious about everything he's gone through in his life, he doesn't understand why you bring that out of him, you are not linked to his past, you’re part of the fresh start he created for himself because of guilt.

maybe you remind him of the kindness he was denied, you remind him of what he could've had if life had been any kinder to him when he needed it when he was just a kid, when he feared his father would kill his mother and him one night, in the middle of the dark with no one to save him.

God, you shouldn’t be kind to people like him, who know nothing but to tarnish everything and everyone around him, he is poison and you’re too pure to even associate with him, your kindness shouldn’t be wasted on him he doesn’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve you.

He hears something shattering and follows not even a second later a scream of pain that could only come from you, his eyes dart towards the door, the hallway dark and the winces of pain continue.

For a second, a small fraction of a second he doubts the legitimacy of your injury, thinking his memories are getting to him, making him imagine something that isn’t at all happening, then he hears you fall to the ground, sobs ripping through your mouth and he knows it’s real.

He leaves the room with heavy steps, he’s adjusted to the darkness of the place but moves around, turning lights on with a freakish fear, wanting to have a clear vision even though he’s going straight towards his fear.

He reaches the kitchen and enters, his eyes moving around until he spots you on the floor, curled into yourself, hand bloody and burned, the broken cup and hot tea not even a meter away from you as you sob, holding your injured hand out as to not further damage the wound.

the image brings back memories he doesn’t allow himself to indulge in, moving around till he reaches you, grabbing the wrist from your injured hand with a sudden move, making you scream for a second before realizing is him who grabbed you, his eyes are strained on the wound, your skin looks irritated and half of your hand is soaked in blood.

“What happened?” he asks, tugging at your wrist as if the pain will make you speak any faster, he isn’t the kindest but he doesn’t mean to be harsh either, the panic is just too much on his bones to not let it out somehow, you’re the only person he knows is able to stab yourself with his sharp edges and survive to forgive him.

“I slipped and the cup fell on my hand…tried cleaning it but I cut myself” you explain through sobs and whimpers, trying to get your hand out of his grasp but every movement makes the pain of your wound stronger.

It’s stupid, how you managed to get yourself to fuck up something as simple as a cup of tea, it wasn’t a hard task, the floor hadn’t been mopped since hours ago and yet you still slipped and injured yourself like a baby deer with unstable limbs.

you shake your head, embarrassment once again plaguing your mind, he doesn’t differ with you, he doesn’t think you shouldn’t be ashamed of your mistake, you should be, you are ashamed and he agrees with you but for different reasons.

He thinks you should be ashamed of not calling out his name for help, for sitting on the ground and crying instead of asking for his assistance, you deserve to be helped when injured, and you deserve to be taken care of despite having made this mistake before.

you can make the same error again and still deserve to be forgiven and aided.

Because you’re human, and most importantly you are you, the woman who rescues everyone from their troubles like they are trapped in a burning building, you do everything and anything to make sure the people you love are safe and happy.

He can begin to understand why you think he’s worth the effort, maybe it’s pity, maybe with just one look at him and his reputation you can make out everything there is to know about him, every past trauma, every scar, every emotional issue he can’t let go of.

“It's fine…we’re going to be fine” He says, looking into your eyes, a silent promise you can’t decipher, you nod, pretending that you didn’t notice he aligned himself with your struggle, making himself a part of the situation so you wouldn’t be alone.

he doesn’t want that sort of faith for you.

He softly guides you to stand up from the ground, moving you towards the sink, standing behind you as he turns on the faucet, holding your injured hand and letting the cold water wash away the blood and cool off your irritated skin.

his breathing brushes on your neck, and the warmth of his chest spreads across your entire body as traps you between the counter and himself, it doesn’t have any malice in his touch nor does he mean anything sexual by it.

It’s the worry that has his body glued to yours, the need to surround you so you won’t get injured again, as one hides with their siblings somewhere in the house when your parents begin fighting again, it’s something natural that comes to him, used to protect and preserve the people he didn’t want getting hurt.

“I'm sorry for screwing up your tea” you apologize with a soft whisper, eyes focused on the blood washing away, it doesn’t hurt a lot anymore, just a small sting that lingers a bit uncomfortably, tolerable but not ideal.

you’re truly apologetic, you knew he didn’t get much sleep, that resting wasn’t something he usually did so you had tried to help him but in the end, it seemed you only caused more panic in his soul, his pupils still blown out as he assisted you with cleaning the wound, as if he was doing it for more reasons than just kindness.

maybe he was, you don’t know his full story after all, maybe you remind him of someone, of something he had buried a long time ago that you brought to the surface again and left him with anxiousness on his chest and worry in his mind.

“s’alright… it’s too late for tea either way” he comforts you the best he can, the best his words and feelings will let him right now, he isn’t upset about the mistake you made, anyone can fall, anyone can break a cup, he didn’t care about that, messes get cleaned up, a cup of tea isn’t as valuable as your health, you should know that.

It's too late for tea, and it’s too late for the amount of tears that continue to pour out of your eyes even though the pain isn’t overwhelming anymore, this time is your feelings, your physical state has nothing to do with the tears falling out and you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“I wanted to help you…I'm sorry Si” you speak again, a small hiccup interrupting your words but you don’t let that stop you from telling him how sorry you are that you managed to mess up one of the only things you knew he liked, tea.

“wanna make another one then?” he asks you, offering to let you try again, a second opportunity he knew you deserved and wanted, and even though he wasn’t in the mood for tea or anything at all, he was going to drink what you want to make him, even if it’s the last thing he does.

you shake your head, sniffling as you close the faucet softly with your noninjured hand, looking down as neither of you moves away from each other or makes the attempt to gain some distance. You didn’t want to make it again, didn’t want to risk embarrassing yourself and making the same mistake, this time in front of him.

“don’t want to screw up again” you answer him, voice low and full of shame. He understands you, maybe second chances aren’t always appreciated and he accepts that you don’t want to try again tonight.

He sees himself in you more than he wants to right now, more than he thought he ever would actually. He guessed that even someone like you could come from a not-so-pretty background, one where making mistakes is a sin that cannot be let go of without punishment.

different houses, different torture, same ending.

because of that, some part of him has to care for you, you deserve that, he cannot believe it enough even though he won’t say it out loud, don’t want to be caught by other people and have you end up being a outcast like him, you don’t deserve that, you don’t deserve that ending.

He makes you turn around softly so you’re facing him, his hands wiping away your tears with a gentle touch, he wished he could do more, turn back time and help you make the cup of tea, or go even further and stop whatever made you believe making a small mistake was such a high offense.

“Are you alright?” he asks, aware you aren’t but it feels cordial to make the question either way, giving you an opportunity to express more than you normally would, he knows you don’t talk enough about your feelings and it’s time you do.

“It’s not fair that you suffer so much and I can't even do something to help you” you reply and his heart stops for a second, the blood on his vein also coming to a halt as he feels himself being delirious of your words.

you did not hold such sentiment for him, nobody did, nobody has and nobody will. That was his life, a never-ending cycle of being looked down upon and having to do everything by himself because why would anyone want to help him or even try to? it’s stupid, you’re being stupid.

“Don’t say that darling..” he shushes you softly, his hands moving to caress your hair, he shakes his head, not wanting to believe you actually care, not wanting to get hope out of lies, it wouldn’t be pretty if he did and you broke his heart in the end.

“years of pain always lead up to isolation, you don’t deserve that” Captain Price once told him after a tough mission, and the words replay in his mind as he has you in his arms, the water mixed with droplets of blood on your hand staining the kitchen floor as he holds you gently.

He's living like his dead, and he doesn’t like it, doesn’t like he drags you to that same misery every time you’re around him but he doesn't want to let go of.

what is not devotion but to become a better person for the one you love?

“I appreciate your intention sweetheart…” he says as the silence from you eats him alive, wanting to make the ache on your chest disappear, he had never wanted to make you suffer, even unintentionally.

he is ready to repair everything broken so you won’t get harmed ever again, he’s ready to repair himself for you.

He had never wanted to become what he hates, a lover, a sentimental person, and yet as he finds himself becoming all of that and more, he can’t help but enjoy it, especially if it means never letting go of you.

Love wasn’t something he knew much of, never got the chance to learn when he was a kid and for a very long time he thought it wasn’t real, a mythical feeling everyone lied about existing so they wouldn’t be alone for the rest of their lives.

Your existence and kindness prove him wrong, your persistence in trying to make life easier for him, the way you laughed, the way you acted, your personality, your likes, and dislikes, everything about you showed him that love was real and he was experiencing it with you.

even if it took a lot of time for him to realize it he did now, and he loved you a lot, more than he would ever let on, more than any piece of literature could ever describe.

Tomorrow is a new day, and another cup of tea can be made, you cannot cry for what was never lost, and his gaze never falters from you so you don’t have to worry, he will always help you, you’re his air and he is yours.

Love cannot easily be tarnished and he swears he will never let anything happen to the one the two of you share, even if that is the only thing he does with his final breath.

(little reminder: I'm taking requests if you guys want me to write about something specific xx)

[angelstate]

“Unprioritized Love”

Husband!Price x Wife!Reader

Price is a loyal person, he thinks about everyone else before himself and doesn’t hesitate to do something he normally would be against if it means saving the people he cares for, it truly is a blessing at times, the way his priorities don’t falter…until they do.

because he is a loyal person but does not know or pretends not to know in which situations he should stand by one person instead of the other, it’s conflicting for him to choose someone when another person is also expecting his support.

it hurts a lot when you’re caught in that sort of situation with him, you’re his lover, his companion in life, and the person he returns home to, but you’re also the person he leaves behind for his team, you’re the one who waits around for him while the team gets him almost all the time.

and you know jealousy isn’t healthy, that you shouldn’t resent anyone because it's his job, he has to leave to provide for you, you cannot bite the hand that feeds you, it would be wrong, it wouldn’t be pretty, it wouldn’t be fair for him.

so you bite your tongue and nod like a child when he tells you about his job, about him going away once more, for longer this time. and the tears in your eyes are hard to be held back, because God, it hurts a lot to be left behind, all by yourself. away from your family and your lover, only an empty home to satisfy your basic needs.

He doesn’t mean to be an absent presence, the lack of a lover in your life. He truly doesn’t mean to give so little to you, to not hold you every night. but between his job and you…he knows which one he isn’t choosing even if he doesn’t say it out loud. 

“I'll be back when I can, alright?” he speaks, voice gruff as he looks around the room, his hands on his hips, you stay seated on the couch, knees close to your chest and your eyes glued to the TV for a distraction, is better to pretend you don’t care than to show him how much you are beginning to hate the dynamic he created in your life.

“mhm” you hum in agreement, taking a big breath and holding it in before exhaling through your nose, not trusting that if you open your mouth, a sob wouldn’t escape, Price notices the lack of words from your part, you always have something to say, a small joke to make about him better bringing you a souvenir or something from his “trip” but when this time you don’t speak or even dare to look at him makes him anxious.

“Want me to bring you something?” he asks, taking a few steps towards you, looking towards the TV, a baking program playing, and your focus on the show makes him raise an eyebrow, you aren’t one to enjoy cooking so he doesn't understand why you’re watching it. 

“no thanks” you respond, and the answer makes him feel like he’s done something wrong that made you upset, the last 4 days he’s been home replaying in his mind, trying to remember what could’ve made you get angry with him, nothing comes to mind sadly, and he feels clueless about everything surrounding you. 

“I thought you don’t like cooking” He decides to comment, shifting the conversation to something more banal and easy to speak about. “I started baking almost 8 months ago” you answer him back, voice flat and your eyes strained on the TV, the recipe to make pavlova having your main focus, it makes Price frustrated, how you won’t look at him, won’t give him the time of day when he’s leaving tomorrow.

you don’t expect him to know how your life develops and the things that change when he's away most of the time, it wouldn’t be fair to expect him to pay you attention when he already has a tough and complicated job to do, his salary pays for the kitchen supplies and food after all. it wouldn’t be fair to expect him to know you... god, how stupid is that?

“You didn’t tell me” Price states, his voice carrying a heaviness that reveals he is irritated about not being told something he should’ve known if he paid attention to the new things in the kitchen like the stand mixer next to the electric oven. 

“I thought I mentioned it when I gave you to try the brownies I made yesterday” you retort, your eyes landing on him for a second before returning to the TV, your gaze isn’t welcoming or warm and it creates a pit on his stomach to see you so detached and unresponsive to something he knew should make you upset.

It brings a sort of heaviness to his chest as he notices he doesn’t have the right to feel offended about not being told something when you should be upset about him not noticing in the first place something that occurred in his own home. It is hypocritical and he knows it.

Price stays silent for a long time, the sound of the TV filling in the silence that was created between the two of you, he feels out of place, not knowing how to answer you, what to do, what is the problem he feels he should be fixing right now.

“you should start packing” you comment after almost five minutes, and that phrase is said with a monotone tone, not one of sadness or a little bit of frustration that he’s leaving again, it's a tone that just states the obvious, you declare that he should pack his bag once more because otherwise he would leave with nothing for his mission and that wouldn’t be optimal.

“Can you help me pack?” He asks for a favor you often offer without him mentioning wanting your help. tonight you don’t offer assistance, almost like you aren’t faced by his departure, used to his absence, used to his side of the bed being empty.

“I’m watching TV” you speak and his heart breaks a little bit, you don’t sound apologetic as you often do when you’re not able to help him, and he’s leaving but he feels you left instead, that the girl he married is no longer in the house even though he has you in front of him, too focused on looking at the tv to help him.

he nods at your answer and doesn’t try to persuade you into doing something you don’t want to, it wouldn’t be fair to force you to help him just because he wants you to, it isn’t fair for you to give a hand and for him to take your arm. Loving someone isn’t really fair.

Only when he leaves the living room to go pack do your tears make their way out of your eyes, running down your cheeks as you cry silently, vision too blurry to even distinguish the images on the TV, it feels almost pathetic to be crying alone, your lover packing to leave and not be able to bring yourself to help him abandon you once again.

If you were his pet it would be abuse for him to just leave, but you're a woman and therefore being alone and left behind isn’t unexpected, being the one to stay home is almost an obligation when your lover leaves to provide for you even if you wish they stayed.

you’re not sure how it begins to be fair to be put in this situation, when the missions of 4 weeks turned into 4 months. When knowing everything about each other turned into barely remembering anniversaries and birthdays.

You don’t want to say the relationship fell apart because you doubt there’s anything at all to be destroyed anymore, you love him though, the pain in your chest and the tears falling from your eyes are proof of that, but you are not sure John loves you.

It’s uncertain how he views you after not spending time together for almost two years, you doubt there is nothing more than just an acknowledgment of your existence in his life, a statement that he knows you're his partner but not enough love to call you his lover.

“Why are you crying darling?” the sudden voice of Price pulls you out of your thoughts, the place next to you on the couch sinking as he takes a sit beside you, resting his elbows on his knees while his eyes examine your expression, you look utterly distraught about something, your breathing uneven and shaky as you begin to sob loudly, unable to talk as all your emotions came crashing down.

and the sight of you crying, digging your nails into your thighs, and being desperate for a peace that will not come, makes a heavy feeling of guilt and worry sit on his shoulders, wrapping an arm around your waist and another under your knees, bringing you into his lap and putting your face on the crook of his neck while you cried, sobs muffled against his skin, your tears wetting his shirt.

“take a deep breath love” Price says in your ear, your breathing so erratic that it makes him worried you will suffocate at some point because of the lack of oxygen in your body, he feels your chest against him as you do as he told you, taking deep breaths the best you can, trying to calm down for your and his sake.

you’ve never been one to cry with so much despair, to need his comfort in times of need because you managed well on your own, he was never around to solve your sorrow either so why bother? But today, he is the reason you're crying and it seems fair that he is the one to comfort you, that your only chore is to cry and keep your breathing somewhat stable while he does everything else to fix what he broke.

He doesn't know where to begin though, unaware of where he stands or what he should do to bring peace into your mind, what words will fix his mistake, and what words will tear you apart even more, he doesn’t want to cause you harm, not consciously, not right now. it wouldn’t be fair to you, it wouldn’t be fair to your heart, it would be cruel. and he doesn’t want to be cruel to you, not anymore.

“I’m sorry love…I should’ve been good to you” he whispers, kissing the top of your head, rocking you back and forth on his lap, soothing you like he would to a child, his voice low and soft, his hand caressing your thighs in a comforting manner. 

“I don’t know why I didn’t notice that you started baking, it was wrong, I didn’t notice you when I should’ve noticed every change you’ve had over the last two years” he continuous, speaking out the guilt he carried in his chest the moment he saw you and heard you break down into tears, your sobs engraved in his mind.

“I’m really sorry for missing out on all of this when I was gone, I shouldn’t have been such a bad husband, you don’t deserve that” he sighs, his eyes stinting a little bit from the tears beginning to form, and your calmer now, sniffling and whimpering, the tears slowly stopping, but it seems that your distraught was transferred to him because he doesn’t feel at ease, he feels the guilt eat him alive while he soothes you.

“I don't want you to leave…” you mumble, adjusting on his lap, your head resting against his chest, you have never wanted him to leave home, to go on missions for months on end with little to no contact with your lover, it feels like you're mourning him every time he goes away and doesn’t give you a small message to let you know he wasn’t killed.

“I know sweet girl” he replies, he doesn’t want to leave either, he never wants to, even though he continues to do so. It's a complicated situation, one he doesn’t dare to think about too much because he’ll end up ripping his heart out, his loyalty not being able to distribute equally for you and his team, always the latter winning even if he doesn’t dare to admit it.

he wants to promise you he’ll return quickly this time and will take a leave just to spend time with you, to dedicate more time to what's left of your relationship, he doesn’t want your marriage to fail, you’re the only woman he wants, the only one he had ever seen himself grow old together, he doesn’t want to let that go because of his own stupid and selfish mistakes.

He has to leave tomorrow, but when he’s back he’ll fix everything.

“I'll be back soon” he mumbles against your hair, face buried in it as breathes in your smell, trying to engrave it in his mind, to not forget this time details about you he has always loved. 

Thankfully, his promise becomes reality, and after two weeks of loneliness that have never felt heavier on your chest, he returns, a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a smile on his lips, happy to see you, to see the warmth and loving gaze you always give him back in your eyes after all this time.

He steps through the door, your face pressed against his chest, refusing to let go of him, fearing he would leave even if it wasn’t unreasonable, he had returned early for you, he had seen his mistakes and was fixing what never should’ve been broken

Peace is restored in your home, love is flourishing once again in your marriage, and whatever plans you had made to start over get discarded, you’re already having a fresh start, one that doesn’t involve leaving your lover. this time is a start with a more conscious man who is ready to do everything right by you, to never let his job affect the way he loves you. He's learning that his wife comes first, that his life outside of the military also has the same and more importance than his job.

(little reminder: I'm taking requests if you want me to write something specific xx)

[angelstate]

Husband!Konig x Wife!Reader.

Husband!Konig is a good lover, one who treats every situation with gentleness, he approaches you with a kind and understanding nature even if you are in the wrong because he would rather take the fault that let you be upset, he knows you don’t mean any harm, just sometimes it takes a bit to realize when you did something wrong or jumped into a conclusion that wasn’t true.

He is a kind and patient soul who wants only the best for you even if it means going against what everyone else deems acceptable, his heart knows no boundaries when it comes to making you happy and enjoy life the way you should.

Husband!Konig doubts himself a lot, he doesn’t think he’s good enough for you at times because of his job, and thinks that somehow his enemies will cause you harm in the long run even if you’re not associated with his work at all, it is something that makes him anxious but he manages his emotions to dedicate his energy to you.

Husband!Konig likes to buy you flowers every time he can, returning home from grocery shopping with a bouquet on his hands that he is already taking care of to put on a vase on the dining table, buying your favorite flower on his way home after a mission, he knows better than to show empty-handed, even if you only care about him and half the time crush the flowers with your eager hugs.

He likes the little details of love, the act of showing he has you in mind even in the smallest of ways because that means he isn’t just being superficial like most husbands who like their wives but do nothing to make them feel loved.

He thinks that should be a crime against the holiness of marriage, such a sacred union should be reserved for those who value their partner enough to go out of their way to make their life easier with simple things like doing house chores, buying their favorite snacks, and such.

Husband!Konig knows that his height brings certain problems most people didn’t know existed like the size of the bed you two sleep in, because no matter how much you searched on the internet, it seemed that every bed you buy is too small for the huge husband you have, or the amount of food that you have to regularly buy so the pantry isn’t empty because he raided every edible thing in the kitchen.

That said, it also has its perks, if you can’t reach something he is already grabbing it for you, cleaning the ceiling lamps or changing a light bulb has never been easier and his clothes are oversized just the way you like them.

you take advantage of his physic more than you should, telling him to carry you around in his arms, refusing to get up in the morning knowing he would throw you over his shoulder and force you to shower with him even if you showered the night before, you don’t even mind waking up early and showering with him but it’s fun to play hard to get with a man who has the ability to manhandle you as he wishes.

Husband!Konig is a soft-hearted person, he might seem intimidating on the outside but he is a man connected with his emotional side, not afraid to cry in front of you or vocalize when he’s upset or the reason behind his feelings, he knows that is unhealthy to keep emotions bottled up because they can cause resentment and he doesn’t want that for the two of you.

Husband!Konig loves animals, especially cats because of their soft fur and independent nature, so when this fat orange male cat approached him in the streets and rubbed against his legs when he had gone out to take the trash was definitely a moment that filled him with joy, as he took it inside your home and showed it to you, stating now you had a pet.

Husband!Konig is a very energetic person, always doing something with his hands, an anxiousness that only goes away when he’s focusing on something that requires him to sit still, like braiding your hair, he doesn’t want to get distracted and accidentally hurt you by pulling your hair or braiding too tightly that causes you a headache, he's careful to the point it seems like his defusing a bomb.

Husband!Konig loves the mundanity of everyday life, he feels at ease when his days blur together because there’s a routine that doesn’t involve violence, and it's easy for him to fall deep into the cycle of living day by day with peace on his mind and the lack of panic attacks that once consumed his days.

Husband!Konig is an amazing person overall, he dedicates every bit of himself to being infatuated with you, feeling you in every way possible, and connecting with you with every aspect of life the two of you share, he knows his love sometimes is overwhelming but taking care of you brings a calmness on his life, knowing his doing something inherently good.

He takes care of you for his and your pleasure, he takes pride in knowing you’re happy and satisfied at a physical and emotional level because he doesn’t like to see you anxious, and doesn’t like when life begins to burden you.

seasonal depression seems to be his worst enemy during the winter, more so than the low temperatures that make his hands numb and cheeks hurt from the cold, he knows the lack of sunlight and the inability to go out makes you depressed, that as much as you value staying home you also like nature but the snow stops you from going out for too long, your immune system being a bit weak doesn’t help either.

But he manages, he buys you a lightbox to help with your depression, and yeah, he knows artificial sunlight isn’t the remedy to your sadness but it keeps you at more peace and he likes to at least try and bring comfort to your home the way he can even if it doesn’t replace the real thing.

Husband!Konig is the perfect partner, truly. and he wishes that he gets to love you and take care of you in every lifetime, wants to be by your side in every universe that exists out there because he knows he would never be truly happy if he isn’t with you.

(little reminder: i'm taking requests if you would like me to write about something specific xx)

[angelstate]

Husband!Ghost x Wife!Reader.

tw: sensitive content, read tags before continuing!

Husband!Ghost is at peace when he’s by your side, you made him feel less alone in the world, like the hurt of his past goes away every time he looks into your eyes, you are a remedy for his aching heart and he couldn’t be happier for having found you after thinking for so many years he was unloveable.

you treat him like he is worth something. like he isn’t Ghost, the soldier whose job caused the death of his family, he is Simon, your husband whom you want to build a family with, he can begin to understand how you feel safe enough to wish something like that but doesn’t tell you his concerns.

he doesn’t want to bring you further into that side of him, doesn’t want to make his doubts yours and risk losing you, not wanting to make you get a bad feeling, to think of him what he thinks of himself.

Husband!Ghost believes in a brighter future, and unlimited possibilities of how life would play out for the two of you, how will you look with the passing of time, how beautiful age will look on you, he wants to see you live, wants to grow gray hair with you and laugh about how you finally time catches up to you, making you look old yet beautiful, always stunning in every way.

his young pretty little wife, the reason he wakes up and takes a breath of fresh air, filling his lungs his oxygen and no longer the smoke from cigarettes that worsened his health at a slow but real pace. and he stopped smoking for several reasons, but you are the biggest and most important one, the main one that makes him use his self-control for something more than just managing his emotions, but to have a much longer future with you.

Husband!Ghost was suicidal for most of his life, wanting nothing but the torture of being alive to end sooner than later, he craved the relief of death, the weight of his burdens to be taken off of his shoulders. He was aware of how much of an extreme measure that was, he wasn’t actively trying to kill himself, but carelessness disguised as selflessness gave him free rein to sacrifice himself, to die a hero even though he felt like he was no good at all.

he has never meant to cause pain to those he cherished though, as small as that is, he has no place in his heart for a lot of people either way, his past uses most of it, storing the ghosts of those he loved that he didn’t have the chance to bury, the little space left used to put you in it along with his teammates.

He has you on his mind though, and that is a much more complicated place to get into or leave, his consciousness being his worst enemy and best friend, keeping everything and everyone alive even if they are long gone. but you aren’t gone, thankful, he wouldn’t be able to deal with your death.

but you are alive, breathing next to him, the sweet smell of your shampoo lingering in the pillowcase and sheets, serving him as a reminder of your existence, that he hadn’t imagined you. That you had been just there, right by his side and he would most likely get you back.

Husband!Ghost is good at letting go, at not letting things get to him no matter how disturbing they are, and he is able to keep his composure at all times, breathing in and out before acting out a plan, having overthought the worst of situations late at night, wanting to protect you from the evils of the world even if that was the last thing he did.

He values your peace and your safety, he guards your steady heartbeat so it never falters, so it never stops no matter what. He is tired of death, he doesn’t want to say goodbye to another person, not you, God, please anyone but you.

Husband!Ghost had already lost Johnny, his mother, his brother, his niece, his sister in law and so many more people because the world wasn’t kind, the universe having a personal vendetta against him, dictating that he should suffer and spend the rest of his years with vengeance seething on his chest.

He doesn’t enjoy violence as much as he makes it out to be, he doesn’t enjoy the nonwashable stain of blood on his clothes or the unending heaviness on his chest, he likes the peace and quiet that pristine clothes and a clear mind can grant a person.

and he envies you sometimes, how your hands are clean from violence and how you smile at adversity with confidence that you’ll get past the hardships life gives you, you seem so content with fighting for your happiness, having to use tooth and nail to get to the simplest of milestones because life isn't kind.

Husband!Ghost doesn’t understand a lot of things in this world but doesn't dare to ask questions, not to you, not to anyone. He lives clueless in some ways, emotions not being his strongest point, but he manages, and he tries in silence for you, always for you, everything for you.

And he goes to therapy in secret, not wanting you to know, not because he thinks it makes him look weak, no. He just wants to keep you out of the darkest parts of his life, the ones that keep him up at night, the ones that make him want to kill himself because he shouldn’t have survived.

He sometimes regrets having survived.

Husband!Ghost worships the ground you walk on, remembers every little detail about you, the way your voice turns high-pitched when you’re excited, the way you flutter your eyelashes when you’re about to cry, the way you look away when you know you did something he advised you not to do alone. he has engraved every aspect of you on his head, repeating them in a loophole when he’s struggling.

God how much does he struggle without your continuous presence, it seems unfair of life to part your path constantly, tying a rope around your waist and pulling you away from him every time he is close enough to reach you. He is your husband, so why does life behave so maliciously?

Husband!Ghost loves you too much to bear the sight he has in front of him, and he knows one day the universe would pull you away from him completely, he knew he was doomed to lose you from the beginning, it was only a matter of time before his peace was interrupted by the grasp of a destiny he didn’t want to live.

but right now isn’t about putting blame on someone, on a higher being he didn’t believe in or a destiny he wasn’t sure existed or not, maybe it was all his doing and he’s just blaming a more powerful source to take away the weight on his shoulders, to make his misery easier to carry as times goes on.

he moves closer to you, his steps heavy as he dares in a second of bravery and adrenaline to step closer to you, his heart pounding on his chest in a way that makes him want to throw up but he carries on.

he kneels next to you on the bathtub, his hands reaching under the water to hold your body, limbs unresponsive to his touch. he pulls you out of the water, not caring that his clothes are getting wet, he pulls you on his lap, holding your lifeless body like it’s made of iron, his grip strong and unkind, he can’t bring himself to be kind, and normally such grip would form bruises but the lack of blood flowing through your veins doesn’t make it possible.

He doesn't remember much of that evening, the flashing blue and red colors seeping from the bathroom window reminds him of false hope, and the cold wind hitting his face and your body hidden away by a black bag reminds him of the unkindness of the world he thought often about.

Widower!Ghost looks at your face and he thinks you're pretty, you’re prettier than he remembers as he sees you dressed in all white, your hair styled in the way he remembered you had it on your wedding day, your makeup simple but adding the color on your skin he knew you had lost a long time ago.

and if it wasn’t for the casket and your chest not moving up and down he could’ve sworn you were alive. He stands next to you for a long time, not moving and nobody dares to pull him away. They knew he wouldn’t be able to bear the thought of being away from you when the lifetime he had promised you together would no longer happen.

Widower!Ghost knows you left at your own will, that you left because you couldn’t keep yourself alive any longer and a small part of him is glad you went out on your terms, but the other huge part of him is devastated.

Because he loves you with the same strength religious people love their Gods, his love for you is poetic, it is guttering, it’s a flame of fire that doesn’t stop burning, no matter the amount of water you may pour in it. And he may just be one man but he loves you with the force of a thousand.

Widower!Ghost contemplates leaving the same way you did, he contemplates the repercussions of his action, the “what if” that stumbles upon his plan as he makes it, mind concentrated and focused as he studies his choices, and he thinks about it over and over again. a cycle forming in his head as he loses the light in his eyes before he even makes the final decision.

and it seems cruel to pull you away from him, it feels like a punishable offense to take you away from him with how much he feels for you, with how much he values your existence by his side, the smell of your perfume on the pillowcase, the warmth of your skin on his.

Widower!Ghost feels as if his life had ended when yours did, and it seems only fair in his mind that he stops delaying the inevitable, that he takes the steps he felt fearful of taking when he was a teenager and had things to lose.

this time he doesn’t have anything to lose, you took everything with you when you perished in the bathtub. Ghost takes a deep breath, a mouthful of pills and a glass of water later is everything he needs.

He lays on his bed, staring at a picture of the two of you, his eyes feel heavy but he refuses to close them, not yet at least. He needs one last look at your face, the sound of your voice replaying on his mind one last time before he finally lets go.

God, you always said I love you so sweetly in his ear, he’s going to tell you he loves you too when he sees you again.

[angelstate]

Husband!Soap x Wife!Reader.

Husband!Soap is one hell of a lover, he is everything you could ever ask for in a man. He is attentive and caring, he truly appreciates you and loves you in a way that shouldn’t be possible for humans to feel.

He does everything he can to show you just how deeply he feels about you, and it manifests as much in little things as in the big things. For example, your favorite tea is always restocked in the pantry, the washer and dryer are always empty and the clean clothes are neatly folded in your bedroom closet. The bills of the water and electricity services never meet your eye because he pays before you can see the cost of it, he knows you get anxious and worried about that sort of thing.

He is honest about his feelings and you’re always what he has in mind, he likes you and loves you so much to the point he feels like kneeling at your feet and just worships you in every way he can, more than sexually, his love goes beyond that.

you could come up to him one day and tell him that he could never touch again and his feelings wouldn’t falter for one second, he would make do with only being able to admire you like he did for years before he even dared to ask you to be his girlfriend.

Husband!Soap would take the fault for every one of your mistakes, if you break a plate in his parent's house he would say it had been him, if you’re arguing about something he would apologize first, knowing that it wasn’t worth time to yell at each other for something that was a mistake.

He knows you’ll apologize too after you calm down, not wanting to be trapped between high emotions when saying something meaningful to him. you value the control you have over your words and he is a patient man, he would wait a lifetime if it meant to hear you speak so time isn’t wasted with him, every second he experiences your existence is heaven to him.

Husband!Soap hopes for the day the two of you have children, he wants a family with you, wants to build something of himself that is fully constructed in a foundation of love and safety, the one he didn’t necessarily have as a kid.

He wants a big family in the countryside, a view of hills of greenery, tall trees, flowers, and fresh air every morning, to be woken up by the sight of you lying beside him in bed, your pretty face relaxed and messy hair all over your pillow while the sun creeps in from between the curtains, your children sleeping in their bedroom the quietness of the home being something short-lived when they began to wake up, he wants to grow old by your side, raising a beautiful family.

He allows himself to dream about it more than he cares to admit, he knows it won’t happen in a very long time, his job, your career, and other problems stopping the two of you from taking that step but he is a patient man, and he rather takes his time than rush things and risk losing you in the process.

Husband!Soap is a good man, he knows he did everything he could to make your time together merry and happy, to fill it with more good memories than bad ones. and he allows himself to think he did a good job at loving you while he could.

so when he gets shot on the side of his head and the last 7 minutes of brain activity the body is programmed to experience before ultimately dying begin, his mind is plagued with you, meeting you, becoming your friend, asking you to be his girlfriend but most of all, your wedding day.

and it is as if he’s experiencing that day all over again, your voice as you read to him your vows, how sweet of you to write personal ones, full of inside jokes and promises you had made him years ago when you first started dating. He remembers feeling his heart flutter on his chest.

but right now, lying on the cold floor his heart cannot flutter, but the tears falling from his eyes do the job just fine because the memory as beautiful as it is makes him feel extremely sad, he doesn’t want to leave you behind, he wants to live longer, to experience more things by your side.

He wants to have children with you, he wants to see the passing of time affect the two of you, to see the smile lines on your face and know that was his doing, that a lifetime with him granted you marks of happiness in your skin.

He wants more time, God, he wants an eternity with you, he wants as much time as he can get.

He remembers your face when he came home early a few months ago, the excitement filling in the void in your eyes when you first opened the door, he remembers the weight of your body on his arms as you had jumped on him, wrapping your limbs around him and not letting go.

what he would do to see that face again, to hear your squeals of happiness next to his ear and feel the softness of your hair in between his fingers. if he knew that would be the last time he came home to you he would’ve done so much more.

he would’ve fixed the creek of the door, he would’ve washed the dirty clothes on the laundry basket, he would’ve cooked your favorite meal and hugged you just a bit more tightly.

He knows he did his fair share of bad things in the world, but you were nothing short of an angel, you didn’t deserve his death as much as he deserved to die. He knows the fragility of your heart, he knows that you’re a sensitive being that can only be treated gently, and he is afraid death isn’t kind, that grief will swallow you whole before you get a chance to realize that your life shouldn’t end because he did.

Husband!Soap loves you more than you could ever imagine, so when the 7 minutes of brain activity ends, he goes out with the image of your face in his mind, your voice muttering that everything is alright, that you love him as much as he loves you.

you were everything, the sole reason he wished for a brighter future and the reason he died a happy man.

[angelstate]

https://www.tumblr.com/angelstate/739071604138688512/husbandprice-x-wifereader-captain-price-isnt-a this really remote of the song Wondering Why by The Red Clay Strays!

omg you're so right!! this song represents their story so well!!

Husband!Price definitely came from a more struggling family, with his father working a Manual/Physical labor and her mother working as a social worker when he was a kid to feed his family. he attended public school in one of the most dangerous parts of London.

Meanwhile, you came from an upper-middle class family, your dad being a successful businessman and your mother a housewife, attending a Catholic School, and going to church every Sunday.

Price loves you a lot and admires the relationship you have with God even though he isn't a really religious man himself, mainly because of his line of work and seeing the evils of the world every day.

he thinks you're the prettiest woman to ever walk on earth and that is the only proof he has that the God her pretty little wife worships is real, because no one can be so perfect without divine intervention.

He values you a lot and loves you more than words can describe, and he wonders what he did in his past life to have the opportunity to call you his wife, his companion, his guide, his fan, his everything.

Price considers himself a lucky man for being loved by you, for having you accept him the way he is and praise him for the sacrifices he makes in his job, risking his sanity and life every day, doing immoral things while having you, an angel waiting for him to come back to make him pure again with your touch.

Like I said, he isn't a religious man but your simple existence confirms him there must be something bigger out there that was kind enough to bless the world and himself with you, you're like an angel walking amongst sinners, saving them (especially him) and loving every person you encounter like they are worth everything the world has to offer.

[angelstate]

FWB!Ghost x InloveFemReader.

FWB!Ghost who hates commitment, he doesn’t care about being in a relationship or romantic shit in the slightest, so you don’t even try to come asking for anything else than meaningless sex because he won’t give it to you, he doesn’t have the stomach to do so, neither the heart capable of feeling that sort of things.

FWB!Ghost only knows how to fuck you rough and hard, to make you feel more pain than pleasure, and fill your skin with bite marks and bruises. he doesn’t know gentleness nor care to learn, aftercare is fucking nonexistent with him, if you feel shitty after fucking then you better dress quickly and figure it out in your own house because he is too tired to care.

FWB!Ghost pretends like nothing happens between the two of you when there are people around, he won’t fuck you in the bathroom of a random bar or a dark alleyway, he wants no part in being associated with you in a romantic way. sex is just sex with him, nothing else so don’t get ideas on your mind, he won’t entertain them.

FWB!Ghost is as loving as a rock, with no emotions other than sarcasm and anger coming from him. He doesn’t understand why to stick around but doesn’t care enough to ask, one day you’ll leave him, it is only a matter of time, so he keeps himself clueless on how you see him so as not to strain the “friendship” you have in any way. (he doesn’t consider you a friend)

FWB!Ghost tried to pay you after the first time you had sex because he didn’t want you to think he took advantage of you or that he loved you in any way, it was just an exchange, a way for him to take out his frustration and for you…he isn’t sure what you get but it must be good because you keep coming back to him.

FWB!Ghost who definitely fucks other women, you aren’t the first or the last on the long list of people he has put his dick inside of, but you are the only one that stuck around and the only one he allows to stick around, no matter how much he tries to deny it, he feels like he owes it to you, maybe because he tried to pay you the first time he fucked you, maybe because you were a friend of Soap first that got introduced to a disgusting man like himself or maybe he just feels a bit guilty of how he treats you constantly (he doesn’t change though, at least not for a very long time.)

FWB!Ghost isn’t all bad at times, if you’re telling him something he listens to you till you finish, he sometimes buys you things you want, all sex-related of course, and he isn’t going to pretend he cares about your interest (he does care) he has been more times at a sex store and victoria secret than at a grocery store in the last 3 months.

FWB!Ghost secretly does enjoy spending time with you, don’t get him wrong, he values solitude and having space for himself, but you are good company, you please him in more ways than you just in the bedroom, you cook his favorite foods, watch horror movies even though he knows you hate them, you listen to the little information he gives you about his missions like his words are manuscripts from the bible.

FWB!Ghost loves little things in life, and he would never open his heart for anything or anyone that can hurt him, he doesn’t allow it out of self-preservation, having learned from his past experiences, he loved his family and they were dead because of him, he doesn’t want more blood on his hands, not of the people he loves. (but he doesn’t love you, right?)

FWB!Ghost is comfortable in silence, but with you being oh-so-quiet when you often talk till you have nothing more to say is definitely a strange sight, one that takes his breath away and makes him want to throw up. because he knows silence from you means something is eating you alive so much so you can’t speak.

so he watches you with careful yet empty eyes, nothing is ever really quiet with you, you’re a stubborn woman and he knows that, he knows you like the back of his hand, so when you stare at him, doe eyes full of something he can read it brings a set of emotions he thought he had buried a long time ago. and when you open your mouth to speak but stay silent it becomes his breaking point. “spit it out, will you?” he speaks, his tone rude even though he doesn’t mean to sound that way.

he sees your eyes become wider for a second, bringing your knees to your chest and looking away from him. He hates when when you shut him out of the sight that is your face, always so expressive he doesn’t even have to hear you to know what you think. “I can't do this anymore, I don’t want to do this anymore” you finally speak and time freezes for a second.

Stranger!Ghost doesn’t regret a lot of things in life, nothing burdens his heart to the point of continuous regret, to undying guilt…except you. He knows he wasn’t a kind man, he didn’t know kindness then and doesn’t know it now, but looking back he knows he should’ve learned for you, he should’ve allowed himself to love and accept that letting someone into his life and heart wouldn’t be a death sentence for that person.

Stranger!Ghost isn’t an honest man at all, but when he’s alone and his feeling catch up to him he can’t help to accept he indeed loves you, that he cared about you more than himself, and that he wished to be your lover, to be your husband to…to have a fucking family and a dog and all that corny shit he swore he hated for years.

He had an unknown hope for you to not give up on him back then, to always stick around no matter what because that’s exactly what you did for a long time, you were there and wore the bruises he gave you with honor and love he never understood, he did now.

He saw something shift in you the night you told him you couldn’t keep him around anymore, he remembers your words, they are engraved in his mind so strongly that they keep him up at night sometimes, and when he is drunk he thinks of calling, to confirm you don’t want him anymore.

Stranger!Ghost who can’t help but get drunk and let a few tears fall when he finds out through Soap that you had gotten married to your first love and were now pregnant, waiting to welcome a little girl into the world, and that your husband had gifted you a puppy as to complete the family.

Stranger!Ghost heart aches at the fact he isn’t the man who made you a mother and that he isn’t the father of your child, but he knows not to come into your life again, you deserve peace and build a family without ever facing him again, he wasn’t going to be cruel to you again, he was going to stay away out of love for you, love you will never know about.

[angelstate]

Husband!Price x Wife!reader

Captain Price isn’t a good man, he never claimed to be one and barely fills the requirements to be considered a moral being in the most mundane aspect of questioning life scenarios he is put to experience over and over again as he grows consciously older.

He knows just how tarnished he is, how dirty his hands are with blood, and how the closest he’ll ever get to heaven is by your side, and in all honesty, he wasn’t a man who craved a peaceful afterlife, nor did he crave for the existence of the promised afterlife his religious mother talked to him about every night to be true. 

Your existence is the only thing that soothes his aching heart, the only person who makes him feel better and unconsciously worse for being the man he is. Because you hold him so gently, speak so softly, and mutter praises for putting his life on the line, for losing morals so the entirety of the world didn’t lose theirs.

He feels as if it’s rotten work to love him, a tortuous action you keep because of the high morals he was never able to develop or comprehend. He sees you as a Martyr for staying with him when he continuously leaves you, disappearing to fight the evils of the world he knows won’t be eradicated anytime soon. 

Aren’t you the kindest of angels for guarding him everywhere he goes, a photo of you hidden in a small pocket on his hat, the smell of your sweet perfume on his suitcase “so you don’t forget my smell” you explained while saying goodbye to him at the door of your home. Oh, sweet angel, he will never forget you.

He usually doesn’t make promises he can't keep, not wanting to feed false hope to the people he cares for, but when you stare at him with teary doe eyes and a pretty smile on your lips because you refuse to cry in front of him, refuse to that be the last expression he sees on your face if the inevitable thing that is death happens to him in the battlefield and not in your arms, of old age with a peaceful mind, he feels compelled to promise his return, to ease your mind and take away the crushing pressure on his chest.

he would die for his teammates, but he would live for you.

“Try and return to me” you whisper in his ear, kissing him on the cheek before pulling away, you have no idea what he would do to ensure he finds his way into your arms one more time before perishing. “Of course, love” he replies, voice gruff yet holding an endearment he only has for you. 

And he remembers your last conversation with pain because Captain Price isn’t a good man, but Jonathan Price is, your Johny is a good man, one who holds you close to his chest at night despite his aching bones from War and violence, who opens the door for you and buys you flower every Sunday after church.

But tonight the night sky has a dooming dark he has never seen before, and the stars above him as he bleeds out on the soil are too blurry to stargaze the way he does with you back home, there is no grass on the floor to soothe the ache of his sore bones the way the backyard of your home does.

He knows he has never been a religious person, never been one to have a relationship with God, but you do, he knows you pray for him to return safe every day he is away from you, so tonight, knowing he isn’t returning to you, he prays for you. he prays for God to be kind to your soul and guide a new lover your way, one who won’t die thousands of miles away from you, one with a body to bury when death catches up to them. 

He prays for nothing more than for God to allow you to live peacefully the rest of your time while his time reaches an end in a secluded place on earth, looking at your picture for one last time before pressing it close to his heart with the hand that has his wedding band, feeling his skin slowly match the temperature of the cold material, his last heartbeats only known by the picture of you and him, a last secret to share with you.

Husband!Price prays for the afterlife to be real, so he can have a chance of seeing you again someday.