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John Price

I felt like you guys will appreciate this

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Simon’s wife looking at her own sonogram showing another 99 percentile baby:

I can imagine Price and Johnny competing to have the most kids

Like Johnny's wife is pregnant with their 3rd kid and Price immediately gets to work getting his wife pregnant again too

I also think Ghost is having the chunkiest babies

And Gaz is probably having 2-3 kids with the prettiest eyes

John price looking at Johnny’s wife’s sonogram showing twins

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c/w: inspired by a tiktok I can’t find. Boner warning? Very much 18+, minors please fuck off. Philip Graves and reader.

You’re one of the Shadows. Have been for years now and also Graves’s close ”friend” and favorite. You know those photos of soldiers cuddling under covers? Yeah, that’s you and him. Especially after long missions or during free time. Or at night when you don’t have a night shift. Or during the day when you do have the late shift. Or when y-

Anyways. There’s one problem men always complain about. Getting hard at random, sometimes during time they shouldn’t be. It doesn’t have to do anything with the situation, or a simple touch or rub does the trick and they’re bricked up. Of course not every time ends up with jerking off, sometimes it just passes.

So when your Commander gets hard when he’s spooning you from behind, often times you feel something hard pressing against your ass. Sure, most of the time he wants to fuck you, but sometimes you’re both way too tired. He’s just so happy to be able to be so close to you, you know?

- Ignore it. - he mutters as soon as he becomes aware you can feel it. The paperwork was exhausting, talking to Shepherd was even worse and he had to filter out some soldiers to recruit. His eyes were half closed the entire evening until he got to your quarters. - Just sleep. - he adds.

- You sure? - you ask. Men can be tricky when it comes to that matter. Especially when you’re in the presence of one who believes your body was carved by Aphrodite and would absolutely undress you right now if you simply asked.

- It’s like a dog wagging his tail. - he mumbled. - Jus’ excited to see you, dove. - he sighs deeply, kissing the back of your neck, tucking your hair away so he can smell and touch your skin.

- Yeah? So yer a dog now? - you chuckle. He gave you a free opening for a roast, so that’s only his fault.

- Careful. Jus’ go to sleep.

- Affirmative. - you mutter back, melting back into him.

Rinse and repeat.

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I’m ovulating

anyway this is what simon looks like in my head

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I’m carrie

19, minors pls dni

european, english isn’t my first language

please don't plagiarize my work or put it on any ai website

MASTERLIST

Task Force 141

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon x shelterworker!reader

KorTac

König

language headcannons

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I’m a big fan of Simon just choosing a wife on the spot. Deciding that she’s wife-shaped and that’s the end of discussion. Simon from my drabble did the same😛

pt. 2 coming soon!

your roommate was a strange man.

can you even really call him a roommate if he's only home for one week every few months? but when he is home, simon riley is a pretty good roommate.

he fixes the heater that's been broken for two months, he replaces the faucet after it drenches you for turning it on too quick, he even takes a look at your car when you mention how your breaks have been squeaking. but other than his penchant for whiskey and the color black, you really don't know much about the man you've been living with for more than a year.

he's in the military, you know that for sure. he works with a team because he tells you that you have a striking resemblance to a man names "soap"? you take that as a compliment even if he didn't really mean it to be one. he wears combat boots even when he's off, you buy him a pair for his birthday that he doesn't take off until soles wear out. but all of these are merely observations, you don't actually know anything about him.

and it's not like you don't try to find out more things about him. you search his name on google- nothing. you ask him about his social media- 'don't got any'. you never ask about family because he never brings them up. all you have is a phone number and the license plate on his beat up dodge charger.

so, getting a call in the middle of the night, three months after you'd last seen simon, about a mission taking a bad turn and simon taking a bullet for an american private. all you really manage to catch after that was the hospital's address and a room number to ask for.

you feel like you're in a trance as you pack yourself an overnight bag, then move to simon's room and just start grabbing the softest clothes you can find and a bunch of snacks from his side of the pantry, then you're off.

you didn't want to see desperate or overly worried about a man whose favorite song you don't know but you're pushing into the high 90s on your way down. and your mind isn't clear until you're standing in front of a tired looking nurse in sanrio scrubs.

"um, i need to get into room 1206?" you barely choke the words out before she's getting up to lead you, "oh! mrs. riley, they told me you were on your way."

"oh-i'm, well" and if you hadn't watch so many hospital shows where they don't let anyone but family into the room you would have just told her the truth, but you just shut your mouth, give her a tight smile, and follow her down the hallway.

the room doesn’t take long to get to, but the door is shut and you can hear the people inside talking. but the nurse doesn't even hesitate to swing the door wide open, "mr. riley, your wife is here."

and then there are four sets of eyes trained on you, but all you can look at is the hulking figure of your roommate sat up in his comically small hospital bed. and all you can muster up is a slight smile and a small wave in his direction before the bags you're holding fly straight onto the floor.

"oh, shoot- i'm sorry. i didn't know if you needed anything so i just grabbed some things from your dresser- and some of those granola bars you like, and there should be a gatorade somewhere in there. and, oh my god, i'm sorry, how are you? i came as soon as they called, and they said you got shot, and-"

"calm down, sweetheart, or yer gonna be the one that needs a hospital bed." ok, simon could still speak that was good, and he was conscious and remembered you.

"i'm sorry. i just got worried, and-" simon knew you well enough to know that you'll worry yourself to death if he lets you keep going, "nothin' to worry about, sweetheart, pull up a chair, you've 'ad stressful few hours."

you practically fell back into the chair that the man with the kindest brown eyes you've ever seen pushed towards you. and for the first time since you arrived, you took a deep, long breath. hand clasped in your lap as you take simon in.

"feeling any better, mrs. riley?"

"she's fine, garrick." 

'garrick' seems utterly unphased by your roommate's- husband's? you can address that later- tone and just continues to smile at you.

"c'mon simon, we just wannae ken 'bout the bonnie lass yer hidin' from yer pals. ye 'aven't even introduced us." you're glad the scot waited until you'd calmed down to start speaking because it took you at least 30 seconds to realize he was even talking about you.

"sweetheart these are the boys, boys this is sweetheart, now fuck off before you scare 'er away"

they didn’t seem like they were going to leave until the older man practically dragged them out saying something about the heaping loads of paperwork they had to do. so will a little wave and a cheeky smile, they were gone.

"so, um, ho-how are you feeling? they, uh, said that you got shot?"

" 'm fine, sweetheart, better knowing i've got a bird at home who'll come runnin' cause she thinks 'm hurt, yeah wife?"

yeah, maybe you'll let the mrs. riley thing go on for a little bit longer.

idk i just really like the idea of simon just picking someone random and being like 'yeah this is it, you're mine now' and they have literally no idea

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a/n: thankful for my six years of learning german (I have no idea how to introduce myself)

c/w: König headcannons/drabble, mentions of pillow talk, 18+

As someone european who’s first language definetly isn’t english, I don’t think König would aggressively spit german at you mid sentence like he does in a lot of fanfiction. I’ve never met a bilingual person who suddenly starts talking to an english speaking person in their native language. Neither did I ever do that, unless it was out of spite.

But he forgets words in english. Needs to think before making a point sometimes because how was that one term he wanted to say?

You hear his german when he talks to himself. Rambles under his breath when doing paperwork or cooking, doing anything by himself really.

Hisses Scheiße whenever something goes wrong, whether would that be a minor inconvenience or a fuck-up during a mission.

Calls Horangi ,,Arschgeige” or ,,Arsch mit ohren” whenever he tells you about some shit they pulled together. Tried to tell you what it means, but accurately translating a ,,butt-violin” is tricky.

Gets excited if you blurt out a sentence in german to him, correctly or not. Even if you butcher the pronounciation or fuck up the grammar, he’s gonna be happy to pretend you’re a C2-level, talented speaker just to hear it again.

He talks in his sleep. Full on conversations that don’t make sense even in german. If you ask him what he meant, he’s gonna respond some foreign bullshit as well, maybe throw some unintelligible english into the mix.

And you always notice how different his voice sounds when he’s speaking english and how it is when he’s speaking german. English is sharper, his accent is impossible to miss. German is calmer, somehow, despite the aggressive nature of the language he makes the words flow like water.

You’ll hear him hiss out some german during your time in bed. You know it’s gotta be dirty by the way he says everything with intention, but he’s never been brave enough to translate everything to you. He chuckles when your whines and cute ,,w-what? w-what does that mean?” turn into a mess of whimpers and moans. You’ve memorised his ,, Ich wette, Du wüßtest gerne, was ich sage, richtig?” (I bet you wish you knew what I was saying, right?.)

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a/n: I firmly believe Simon Riley would be a dog person. Written at school on breaks, english isn’t my first language sorry for mistakes🥲

c/w: Simon Riley/Shelter worker!reader with him just caring for the same mutt as reader. Simon dogtrapping reader and deciding that she’s gonna be his wife on the spot.

There’s this stray mutt that Simon has grown fond of.

He’s no one’s, an older dog with some scars, matted fur, and a sad look in his eyes. He’s big, probably a mix between a german shepherd, saint bernard and a labrador if you squint. He has one floppy ear despite his age. Still, a big guy with a rough exterior and a big heart. Much like Simon.

He couldn’t have a dog. Not with the constant deployments and absence from home. Maybe if he had a wifey to take care of the dog and the house while he’s gone, he’d take him in. He didn’t have a dog officially anyway, despite feeding the mutt regularly and having two bowls for him outside, dog food now permanently on his grocery list. He wouldn’t admit to himself how much he cared for him, named him Bravo in his head, but never got him a proper collar.

Bravo always came back, happy to see Simon, wagging his tail and roaming around his neighbourhood whenever he was home. Always slept in his garage during winter. He was a great dog, hunted rodents when he was in the mood. Warned Simon that someone was coming by barking. Never bit or attacked anyone. Played with the kids on the playground nearby.

So when Simon comes back from yet another deployment, he notices that Bravo isn’t there to greet him. His bowls remain untouched and one thing that Simon knew about that mutt was that he’d eat absolutely anything without a complaint. So after two long days of seeing the bowls still full, worry starts to nag the Lieutenant, reminding him at random of how Bravo’s missing.

Simon’s heart drops to his stomach when his mind starts conjuring images of what fate the pup could’ve suffered while he was gone, kicking ass god knows where with the Task Force. People were cruel, whether it’d be men or some messed up kids. Most drivers don’t even stop after bumping into a cat or a dog. The thought of Bravo being hurt or rotting on the side of the road made Simon’s head spin.

At some point, enough is enough. He’d figure out a place for Bravo to stay while he’s deployed, he just wanted the damn mutt to come back. His only company when he was home alone. The neighbours said that the dog vanished, none of them mentioned anything about a dead dog in a ditch, so that was something. Simon found himself driving to the local shelter in hopes of finding him. He heads inside, picture of the dog prepared on his phone already.

There he sees you - the sweetest lass he’s ever seen. Pretty sure he hasn’t seen you before, because he wouldn’t ignore someone like that. He opens the door and the creak and it makes you turn to him and smile, making him wish he’d have you smiling like that when he comes home.

And you? Who doesn’t smile at the sight of a man built like your wet dream, looking to adopt a dog. And you just had a great day, after having made a decision to adopt one of the larger mutts that just came to your shelter a week ago. He was so sweet with that floppy ear of his-

- What can I help you with? Wanna adopt? - you ask. Not many people come to the shelter. Mostly families before christmas, a few volunteers who walk and feed the dogs, maybe some young people when they move out of their parents house and want their own mutt. If he wouldn’t find Bravo here, he was ready to adopt a dog anyway just to see your eyes light up.

- M’mutt’s gone missin’. - he gruffly replied, taking out his phone and showing you the picture he took one time before he got deployed again. - You have ‘im?

- Uh, yeah, he’s been with us for a week now. - you say, but your immediately smile goes down. The handsome guy was taking your dog. A wave of relief washes over his body, his worries dissolved with a simple sentence. He tenses up again though, just as fast. Something’s wrong. You should look at him with glinting eyes and hand him adoption papers. Thank him for taking the doggy to a good house with a kiss on the cheek, or a sloppy kiss somewhere else. You motion him to follow you to the crates. The room stinks of a wet dog. He follows without a word, eyeing your plush thighs from behind, calculating if his hands were perfectly big to grab them both and spread. If you two were at the bar, he’d be already trying to get your number, name, address and family information.

You two walk over to the crate where the poor mutt is in, whining, his tail thumping on the floor when he sees you and Simon.

- It’s good you’re taking him back uh..he’s a smart mutt. - you chuckle awkwardly, fighting through the pain. Simon seemed like a good man and you were telling yourself that he’d be much better owner than you anyway. But it hurts. Because in the week you’ve had him in this crate, you’ve grown so attached that it physically hurts to give him away. Bravo, as Simon called him, was the only dog you actually took out the papers to adopt formally after working at the shelter for months. Turns out you almost took someone’s dog. You open the lock and let Bravo get out and bother Simon.

- I’m gon’ take ‘im home. - he says, watching your expression.

- Alright. You’ll need to fill out some basic forms before you do. You may sit on one of the chairs. - you guide him to the poorly furnished waiting room where you return to your counter and give him the said files. He gives you a nod and sits down, Bravo bothering his ass all the time. He writes down whatever was needed, mostly just trying to rack his brain on if his sudden need for you isn’t caused by not getting laid for years in the military. But no. He doesn’t ogle pretty girls that way in grocery shops or at base, you’re just uniquely wife-shaped in his opinion. And he hates that frown you have on and even more that he’s the one to cause it. It didn’t take a genius to figure out you loved Bravo.

- Ya got a dog? - he suddenly asks, laying the paperwork on the counter to get it signed. He’s determined to get you to smile again, not look like you just got your soul companion ripped away from you.

- Oh, no, I wish. I..almost adopted your dog, actually. Well, uh, big dogs are better for houses than flats anyway, yeah? - you smile weakly. Small flat doesn’t quite fit to the description of the absolute shithole you live in, but it’ll do. He senses that. He’d be more than willing to lock you up with Bravo in his house and get you all the pups you want. Anything to get the spark in your eyes back, the one you greeted him with at the door.

-…Ya dogsit? - he gruffly asks as you give him back the paperwork. He needed something to silence his guilt and have you within his reach. You wanted Bravo, he can share.

- I suppose I could. - you shrug. Anything to see that dog. You could get a penny or two dogsitting too. And drool over Simon.

- I mean fo’ long periods of time. Few weeks, a month. Livin’ in the house. - he said, laying out what he needed, because taking that mutt in meant getting him someone to watch over him while he’s deployed. It felt like sharing custody already. And he wanted to see you home. Smiling when he comes back. Hell, he’d get two or three dogs there if it meant seeing you all sweet and smiling.

You think for a moment. Your flat is shit. Simon mentioned he has a house, not an apartament. You don’t wanna part from Bravo and you need money.

- Sure. - you shrug, finally smiling a bit more without that sadness in your eyes. His heart flutters. He’s gonna buy a ring and himself a matching one if you do that again. The guest room’s gonna be your space, he’s gonna come back for another dog and let you choose which one, and Bravo would make a great family dog anyway, so the storage room upstairs can be the nurser-

You exchange numbers and that’s when you’ve sealed your fate. He calls you two days after he took Bravo and you show up to discuss the details. His dog greets you and you rub his floppy ear, ruffle his fur like all you needed this today was that mutt.

- Where’s yer suitcase? - he asks, hanging your jacket.

- My suitcase?

- Yer stayin’.

- Sorry, what?

- Ya agreed to dogsittin’ Bravo. M’gone often, so it’s best ya jus’ move in. Guest room upstairs ‘s yours. - he states. It’s not a question of you want to move in. You will move in. - Ya mentioned wanting to adopt Bravo. He fuckin’ adores ya, so he’s yours too. Yer stayin’. Next time, bring yer things.”

And there it is. That glimmer in your eyes. The proposition to live in a house instead of your shitty flat and have Bravo with you all the time? And a handsome Brit that looks at you like you’re a meal all the time? Worth a shot.

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I’m loosing my shit over this

going to bed. can you guys watch him for me?

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I just realized that I’ve been blocked by one of my favorite authors on here. We never interacted even once. Like yeah I’m heartbroken but so confused???

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It’s unfair that the Task Force 141 should be called The Beauty Force 141. Like fuck you mean every single one of them is as handsome as realistically possible. Not just the game models, the actors too. How am I supposed to shoot enemies in the game when there’s a literal supermodel of them is gazing into my eyes and seducing me whatttefuck.

Military propaganda worked tbh.

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Why is everybody sleeping on this man he is GORGJUS

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I’m desperate for more Adrian Chase/Vigilante content i swear to god is it my inability to search the internet or is the fandom just so small??? I really can’t tell I’m going insane