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#cod mw2 fluff
l13 · 8 months
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hmm idk this is fluffy but i feel like ghost would secretly melt every time his gf would call him ‘angel’
WDYM I LOVE FLUFFFF, SEND ME FLUFFY ASKS I LOVE 'EMMM
cw: pure fluff, f!reader
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imagine you and ghost are cuddling, nd you're laying on your back with his hands wrapped around your middle, his head resting against your chest while you're talking about random stuff. And suddenly, nicknames come up, and you realize that you always call him either Simon or Ghost, despite him using 'lovie/love, baby, sweeatheart' regularly on you. Well... most of them were spoken in private, away from prying eyes, but STILL.
You were in shock that you'd never chosen anything for him, and kinda offended on behalf of him, too. He chuckled at your behavior, saying he really didn't care, but you insisted that he needed something. So you started to list off potential nicknames for him,
"Ghostie-"
"Absolutely not."
"Yeah that's bad, umm oh!! You can be my pookie bear,"
he nudged your side softly, the corner of his lips quirking up in amusement "Stop it."
"I'm just playing. I can call you love, too, yknow. You're my love."
You run your fingers through his hair, smiling dumbly at the way you feel his breath hitch, but then he's huffing "That's your nickname, love, you can't have it."
"But I do have it-"
"I have it, and it's for you,"
you purse your lips to stop yourself from laughing, rolling your eyes "Fine." he hums in reply, and you're both quiet for a while, so much so that you think he's fallen asleep.
But then an idea pops into your head and your eyebrows shoot up, "What about angel?"
Ghost doesn't say anything but you can hear the sharp inhale of his nose, his hands tightening the slightest bit around you "Nah,"
you pout down at him, tilting your head to try and get a glimpse of his face, "Why not?"
"Just doesn't fit me, 's all." and you would have let it go if his reply had been different, but your gut told you that he was 100% serious,
"Simon.. Look at me," he refused to do so, so you tugged at his hair the slightest bit, and he groaned lowly, turning over so his chest is flush against your own, supporting his weight on his forearms on either side of your head, his nose nudging your own.
your fingers fall from in between his hair, down to his cheeks, to cradle them in your palms as you look at him "You're an angel."
Ghost huffs, "An angel that kills people, sure,"
"Well... in Supernatural that's the norm-"
"Fuckin' hell.." he's rolling his eyes, a grin tugging at his lips nonetheless.
You narrow your eyes at him playfully, "Rule's changed, you don't get a say in this. I'm gonna call you angel, and that's final."
"Great." a snort escapes you at his dryness, and you giggle when he nuzzles his face against your cheek, planting a soft kiss on your cheekbone.
"I want more enthusiasm or else it's gonna change to pookie bear-"
Simon leans back to fully look at you, his eyebrows shot up, eyes seemingly glinting with mock interest "Changed my mind, angel's growin' on me."
"Thought so,"
<3
The next day when you walk in the mission brief room (idk wtf to call it, meeting room??) you mumble a small "Hey, angel," and maybe your brain is still foggy from sleep or maybe you genuinely didn't think much of it, but Soap's cackle is immediate, "Hey bon, listen I'm lovin' the new name but take me out to dinner first, yeah?"
Ghost's dumb grin fades in a millisecond at soap's comment and before he's realizing what he's doing he lets his hand brush your own as you pass by him, and then he's meeting Soap's stunned eyes, "She's talking to me,"
Soap still doesn't know what the fuck is going on when Ghost turns to you, muttering a small "Hi, lovie," your way,
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bagofshinyrocks · 3 months
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Period Comfort
Prompt: How the boys act when their S/O is on their period. [Requested by @weebumochi]
Featuring: TF141 and Los Vaqueros - John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Alejandro Vargas, and Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra (separately) x GN!Reader
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: reader menstruates, but no mention of genitalia; menstruation discomfort; nothing else i can think of, but lemme know if there's more
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John Price
Always gets you water and a fresh cup of tea once your cups looks a little low.
Finds out what meals are best for someone on their period and focuses on making those for the week.
You two would make food with beef, eggs, and fish (if you eat them); spinach, squash, and brussel sprouts. All the nutritious stuff. 
And then he would make treats for you, especially dark chocolate on almonds or walnuts. Bring you bananas, berries, figs. You felt like ancient Mesopotamian royalty. All things that were also good for you, but were more traditional period comfort food of “sweet”. 
If you really needed to eat half a family sized bag of barbeque potato chips, he would fetch them and put them in a bowl for you. No questions asked. No movement in the eyebrows. A loving smile as he asks what movie you two were going to watch.
 But for dinner, he’s making something without so much… sodium.
Does everything he can to make your period easier on you.
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Simon Riley
Doesn’t tell you that he knows you’re on your period, but that shit is on the calendar. Doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s all “oh is it that time of the month?”. So he pretends nothing is different.
He’s always so sweet to you, but he’s especially so when you’re on your period.
There are absolutely no gibes or pokes at the tender part of your heart. And whenever you’re most hormonal (which is also on the calendar), he might not tease you at all. Because one time he was a little snarky with you, and normally it would roll right off, but you were just a teensy bit too hormonal. And you got quiet. And your lip quivered. And he didn’t stop apologizing the whole day.
Any shows or movies he normally sighs about (but still sits down and watches… and gets invested in, the lying shit), there is no fussing.
“Alright, lovie, sounds good. Do you want another cuppa while I’m up?”
Need some quiet time by yourself? He has some errands to run, let him know what you want for dinner.
Just does his best to make sure you never feel crazy when you’re on your period.
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Kyle Garrick
When the worst of your period comes in, it becomes the typical night in.
The dumbest movies that you two love. Dessert eaten before dinner. Favorite takeout and all the accoutrement available. A glass of wine or some other treat beverage. Matching pajama sets.
Kyle had almost fallen asleep when you massaged a yummy-smelling hair mask into his scalp, and then pulled a ‘oh I was just resting my eyes’. And then he returned the favor, painting a luxurious facial mask on you. Making hearts on your cheeks, then spreading them out. You were fairly sure he drew boobs on your forehead, but then smeared it out and insisted you were just imagining it.
You give each other manicures, and hand feed the other food whilst their nails dried. Kissing chocolate and strawberries off each others lips and chins.
Once his hair was wrapped up, he’s all snuggled up in your arms. The heat and weight of his body against your abdomen was soothing. And the gentle snoring of the love of your life.
Everything he can to make you feel comfortable and attractive in your own skin.
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Johnny MacTavish
He gets up at the ass crack of dawn to go for a run (like a fucking psycho). Once you wake up, he wants to go to the gym with you. Whether or not you work out, or just poke his butt because it’s funny, he wants you there. But not today. Your cramps, or just the general yuckiness of menstruating, makes you want to not leave the house.
So he hops on the internet, and finds the workouts, stretches, and yoga poses that would help you feel better.
The most gentle workout he’s had in his life. Stretching with the speed of tai chi, leaning against your back and chatting quietly.
Kisses wherever he can reach as you two figure out the yoga poses. Sticks his ass out as far as he can so you’ll poke it. Whistles whenever you begin a pose that’s even marginally suggestive. Waggles his eyebrows and maybe even cops a feel.
Double checks that you aren’t overexerting yourself. Stops for water (and kiss) breaks and asks how you’re feeling. What’s helping, what’s not helping? Time to stop, or keep going?
Helping with the physical and visceral symptoms so you’re more comfortable.
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Alejandro Vargas
If he can, he’s clearing the schedule for the worst day of the week. Does grocery shopping and laundry before, so there is essentially nothing to do that day when Mother Nature is curb-stomping you.
Spoils you with a long lie-in. The sun has long since come up by the time you wake up to massages and kisses.
You join him for breakfast and a quick rinse off shower, and then you two crawl right back into bed. Leaning against him as he kneads the skin and muscles of your abdomen or back, a movie or the radio as ambient noise.
Maybe you fall back asleep. Maybe you watch an entire TV show. Maybe you putter about and do some light home-making. The goal is that you are fully rested.
I bet science says that you can’t “catch up on sleep”, but it’s still nice to have a day where you sleep for most of it. Especially when it’s curled up in bed with your sweet lover. His hands on you for the entire day, closely followed by his lips.
His whole body squeezing you tight when you try to leave, and wrapping around you again once you return.
Just physically reminding you of how much he loves you.
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Rodolfo Parra
Once he sees a menstrual product wrapper in the bathroom trash can, he’s off to make the most professional grocery run you’ve ever seen.
Knows exactly which products you use, and checks which are low. Buys the right medications or products. The snacks that you love (that won’t betray you later with a stomach ache), and the little drink treat that’s for special occasions. 
You swear that he hears the crinkle of a wrapper in the bathroom and marches to the store.
Puts the groceries away while you’re finishing up the breakfast dishes and then offers you the little beverage and maybe a treat.
He guides you to the couch or back to bed, sidling up next to or behind you and kisses you deeply. Arms roaming and then settling in a way that keeps you as close as possible. Pressing against you as if you could become one.
Cuddles in the way that is most comfortable, whether you’re in his lap or laying down. Kisses you all over. Hand feeds you until you’re giggling too hard.
He never wants you to run out of the supplies you need, or feel any less sexy while menstruating. Because you are always so sexy to him.
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Posted: 2024 January 7
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lazybutsmexy · 1 year
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Are you looking for a wife?
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Alejandro Vargas x fem!reader
Warnings: pure fluff, mention of injuries, probably very wrong medical information, prescribed drug use, some cursing.
Summary: whenever you get ketamine as pain relief, you lose all thought-to-speech filter.
On AO3
A/N: I just watched an episode of one of those shows about air ambulances from the UK where they gave a guy ketamine, and he was high as a kite and kept telling the doctor (who was like 20 years older) "you're my kind of bird 🥺♥️". You really can get inspiration from anywhere, huh.
•~•~•~•~•
It had been one of those missions that went to shit really quick but somehow the Ghost team got the upper hand in the end. The intel was found, the hostage was rescued, and most of the team got away with minimal injuries.
Unfortunately for you, you were the exception to the last one.
The bullet and the stab wound you had received left you at a risk of bleeding out. One of the Vaqueros - Fernando, you learned - had enough medical training to treat you on site, but you really needed the MedEvac stat. The stim shot you had given yourself during the heat of the battle had long since worn off, and you were administered a strong dose of ketamine to keep your blood pressure from spiking any further and help with the pain once you all made it to the safe house.
However, one funny secondary effect you always got when you were given that drug, was that you lost all filters with your musings. They were never inappropriate per se, just plain weird. In a few words, you were high off your tits.
"...Mars is the only planet in the universe to be entirely inhabited by robots…" you mumbled to no one in particular as you stared straight at the roof over your head, past the top of Fernando's head who was still stitching a scratch on your forehead - only God knows how you got that one. Fernando just blinked at you and shook his head, focusing on his task, while Soap, who wasn't that far from you, was having a really hard time trying not to laugh at your stoner talk.
The utter (non?)sense that came out of your mouth was indeed amusing to whoever was listening closely, mostly Soap and Ghost, who, like the rest of 141, were already used to your reaction to ketamine from previous experiences, and would sometimes even prompt more unhinged thoughts from you. Price tried not to pay too much attention to whatever you said - he knew that as long as you were somewhat coherent and cohesive with your words, they could rule out any brain damage. Whenever Gaz heard your comments, it actually made him think about what you said, always coming to the conclusion that you were actually onto something.
Fernando finally finished with your care and left to check some of the others, while you kept staring at the ceiling of the safehouse, completely lost in your thoughts again. Your eyelids felt heavy, but you weren't sure if it was because of the drug or the blood loss. You were trying really hard to stay awake, but now that your body wasn't burning with pain and the adrenaline had worn off, all the exhaustion from the previous days caught up with you.
You looked over at Ghost, who was now speaking to Alejandro, and couldn't help but sigh dreamily at the leader of the Vaqueros - your inhibitions had really flown out of the window when the ketamine hit. They both glanced at you and you blinked twice, each time your eyelids got heavier.
"LT, 'm sleepy," you groaned, not noticing that you were pouting at both your Lieutenant and the Colonel like a grumpy toddler that needed a nap.
Alejandro somehow maintained a passive stare at you - inwardly though, he was already cradling you in his arms and cooing sweet nothings at you until you fell asleep.
Ghost simply stared at your lying form, and walked closer to you, crouching down to take a better look at your bandages.
"...Well, since you aren't actively bleeding out, I suppose you can take a nap," Ghost huffed but quickly held a finger to your face before you could take him up on it, "but someone will wake you up every 30 minutes just to make sure you still live, copy?"
"Copy, LT, loud and cle-" you interrupted yourself and just stared straight at his skull mask. Ghost frowned, wondering if he should feel concerned.
"...Are you-"
"A cheeseburger," you interrupted him, your eyes wide like sauce plates, "is a dead cow covered with its lactation." As soon as you finished your sentence, your head lolled to the side and you were knocked out cold, a soft snore leaving your barely open lips.
"Bloody fucking hell, kid," Ghost sighed, shaking his head in defeat as Soap wheezed not far away from you.
Alejandro could only stare at you, his hand clutched to his chest. "...Ay, ternura…"
•~•~•~•~•
Thirty minutes had passed when Alejandro decided to check on you. Activity had lulled to a stop and most of the people were catching on some sleep, except for those keeping guard.
He could've gotten some shut-eye too, but he was the kind of leader who wouldn't completely rest until it was totally safe to do so for the whole team.
As he approached you, he noticed you were already awake and staring at the ceiling. He smiled softly, wondering if you were getting lost in your silly little thoughts again, and sat down next to you, watching your eyes focus on him this time.
"What's in your head, preciosa?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper so as to not wake the others.
"...Are you looking for a wife?" You whispered back at him after a few moments.
He blinked twice before leaning a little closer, wondering if he had heard you right, and if you could hear the way his heart rate picked up. "... Perdón?"
"Are you looking for a wife, Alejandro?" You repeated, dead serious.
He cleared his throat to get rid of the knot that formed there, before grinning at you. "...why? Are you offering?"
"... Yes," you nodded, offering him a little grin of your own, "where should I turn my résumé?"
He chuckled softly and reached down, fixing a stray lock from your forehead and tucked it behind your ear, "ask me again when you're sober and I might tell you, tesoro."
"Oh, the ketamine wore off," you sighed, slightly leaning into his fingers, "the pain woke me up, my whole body burns, actually."
His grin dropped and he frowned at you in concern, you looked awfully calm to be in that much pain. "...Want me to ask Fernando to give you some more?"
You shook your head, offering him a smile, but this time he noticed the sweat on your forehead and the frown in your brow as you tried not to move too much, "nah, I want to be sober to hear your answer. So? How do I apply?"
This time Alejandro could barely check the volume of his chuckle as he leaned even closer to you, his knuckles brushing your cheek, "If you're available, the position is all yours, preciosa."
This time you offered him a toothy smile, a flush staining your cheeks and all signs of pain gone from your features, "I make a mean huevo ranchero, you won't regret it."
"You could make me only tostadas for the rest of your life and I'd still look forward to them," he cooed, before signaling Fernando over to you, "now, let's get you comfortable for the trip, si?"
Just as he spoke, the rumble of the heli echoed in the distance, and little by little the teams woke up from their slumber. You got another shot of ketamine and were prepared for the journey, and it wasn't long until you started sharing your wisdom again with whoever could hear, much to Alejandro's delight, Soap's amusement, and Ghost's chagrin.
"If you think about it, the Miss Universe pageant should be called Miss Planet Earth, because no aliens participate in it… that we know of…"
A/N2: *quietly tags @ragingbookdragon here* 🤫♥️
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bubuslutty · 1 year
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You're upset, darling?
pairing: platonic gn!reader x ghost x soap x price
word count: 1.4k
tags: angst with comfort, depression, episodes, no use of y/n, 3rd person pov, reader is mostly refered to as darling + they/them pronouns
warning: mention of suicide, not in detail tho but still (let me know if I missed anything)
summary: 141's darling has episodes where they feel like shit and how they spend their day in the base with those feelings, and how the guys comfort them.
a/n: I wanted to add könig, horangi and gaz but I was too tired to keep writing so I only wrote abt these three. this is very much based on my personal experience. I'm also undiagnosed so I might not use certain terms.
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Sometimes 141's darling has days where they're down and very upset. It's normal, they think, everyone must have days where they don't feel entirely themselves, right? it's totally normal and very human, they believe.
At first, when they were upset, nobody would notice, because no matter how they felt, they always did the same things as they always do, if not a bit slower than usual.
They would shower, groom their hair, wash their clothes, clean their room and attend all activities with the other guys. They would even sleep their full hours, uninterrupted, and finish all of their food, rarely missing a meal.
But all of that feels robotic. An attempt to seem normal, to seem fine. When in reality, they feel gray on the inside. Dead. a walking corpse. A heaviness that settles in their chest like a rock. Sitting there, unmoving.
And more often than not, they wouldn't know why they're so upset, so down and dead and just not themselves. They might as well be in a coma because nothing feels real during those days.
Then they would be forgetful, less talkative, and their face would drop, drained out of any light and animated expressions they usually wear. They would laugh along to jokes that aren't even funny, to keep anyone from noticing that there's something wrong, that they're wrong.
But they couldn't keep having their episodes unnoticed. They're not sure who noticed first, out of 141, but they do remember how Soap would look at them. How even when he's talking and laughing loudly, he would glance at them, to study their reaction and face. But he wouldn't say anything, not yet at least.
He would then drag them with him as much as he can, and not necessarily make them speak, because he notices their silence, and the discomfort that would appear in their face when they're made to speak and actively participate in a conversation when they're not obligated to. He would fill in the space, with his chatter, but it would not be as loud, softer, a comforting murmur, a nice sound to focus on when they can't make themselves stop falling inside their head.
And then darling would lean against his side when they're sitting down and he's sketching on his knees, still talking and filling in the air. And he would wrap an arm around them and squeeze, his body heat comforting and welcome in those gray days. And when darling has to be somewhere without Soap, he would give them a much needed tight hug, all warm and big and long and soft.
"You'll be alright."
They find themselves hanging out with the 141 guys more often during their episodes. And Ghost is no exception. No matter what anyone says about the man's personality, whether he's cold hearted, emotionally unavailable or just straight out a bastard, they would never get it right, never, nobody knows him as much as he knows himself. But he does let out bits and pieces of himself to his mates. Because he trusts them.
Darling would be sitting next to Ghost, without saying a single word while he's cleaning his guns in similar silence. The only sound that could be heard is their breathing and Ghost's hands working on cleaning his weapons. But then darling did break their silence once, they don't know what urged them to open their mouth and speak, but they did.
"Thank you for being my friend."
Ghost's hands froze, and he just kept staring down at his guns when he lifted his head and looked to the side at the sergeant sitting next to him.
"Sergeant, are you suicidal?"
Darling was slightly taken back by the bold question. But that was Ghost for you. Asking direct questions when it mattered. Darling didn't take offense to his question but simply shook their head, "Negative, sir."
Ghost kept staring at them silently and reached out for their hand, gripping it and squeezing it in his gloved hands. Darling smiled a bit and didn't say anything after that, nor did Ghost.
Darling doesn't know if their words freaked their lieutenant out or not, but he did mention their very short conversation to their captain, John Price.
"Sergeant, I need you in my office, now."
Darling was a bit confused, raking their mind over any mistakes they did, or said anything wrong to anybody. And were even more confused when they couldn't think of anything they've done.
"You're not in trouble." John said as soon as they entered his office and sank down on the chair in front of his desk. Darling fidgeted with their fingers, unable to just sit still under Price's gaze.
John Price was the only man on base that Darling disliked interacting with during their episodes while simultaneously yearning for his attention and approval. His eyes could see everything, he knew everything.
They didn't like to be weak in front of Price. They don't like how easy it is for him to see and understand them. Even if it is one of the most relieving feelings in the world. It was scary. To face a man who could read you and so easily pin your vulnerabilities.
"Lieutenant Ghost told me what you said earlier today. He's worried about you and wanted me to check on you." Price said, arms crossed and leaning against his desk, staring down at them with a steady gaze.
He went straight to the point, no wasting time or breath.
Darling opened and immediately closed their mouth, unable to form a sentence or pick what to say, their mind was reeling and they had the urge to just spill everything to the man.
He does that to them, makes them want to lay out everything they are and stand naked in front of him and let him see every scar, every mole, every dip, every swell and every pore.
"Talk to me, honey." He said, so gently when he kneeled next to them, that it choked up Darling's throat.
Their eyes immediately blurred with tears, their breathing picking up and now heaving, struggling to breath.
"Breathe, aye?" Price said.
And it was as simple as that. Breathing. Breathing for their captain.
He wanted them to breathe? They will, with no question.
They're not sure if it's just his rank that makes them more obedient, more willing to obey and trust blindly. But they're too afraid to think too much about it. They're afraid they'll find a hidden layer under it.
"I- I feel useless. I feel lost and confused. I feel sick in my heart. I'm not happy, and I don't know why. And I want to be happy, to not feel like I'm not myself anymore. I want to feel good. I want to be good."
And just like that they spilled like an overflowing glass of milk.
Price's gaze softened even more, and he placed a big rough warm hand on their thigh, "Darling," He said and their heart jumped in their chest.
"With all due respect, you're not useless. If you were, I'm scared to think of what that would make us." He said, voice all deep and warm.
Darling cracked a small smile, looking at him with their hands on their lap and staring at him with big eyes, shiny and begging for praise and reassurance.
"You're more than enough, love. It's alright to feel like shite, but what's not alright is you keeping your hurt to yourself and making yourself sick with it. Talk to me, talk to us, you're safe. You're safe and good. You're so good."
A tear spilled down their cheek, staring at Price with their heart beating faster than a horse in their chest, their body heating up and feeling all warm and fuzzy and so loved they could suffocate with it.
"Come here." Price said before dragging his sergeant by the arms to engulf them in a big warm hug. His scratchy beard was pressed against their temple. But they didn't mind. Their captain smelled like cologne, mint and tobacco, but they didn't mind either. His grip on their body was tight, but they also didn't mind. Because their captain was good, solid, a constant force, safe and warm and understanding.
And that heavy stone that lodged in their chest was finally lifted and they could breathe again. They know this won't somehow heal them. To think so would be foolish and a joke. But this felt good nonetheless.
Their captain knows they will have their episodes, maybe not as often, maybe more often, who knows. But what he does know is that he'll set up a private therapist for them. And he'll make sure to remind Darling that they're part of 141. They're part of them, and they don't have to act as if they're fine, it's okay to be vulnerable, because they'll protect them, keep them safe from bad thoughts just like how they protect them from bloodthirsty enemies and bullets.
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homicidal-slvt · 10 months
Text
"The Gentle Giant & The Mermaid"
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MDNI
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König x GN!Reader
Mermaid|Y/N
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Warnings: Fluff, Violence
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Never trust humans.
That was a rule instilled into you from a young age, too many humans simply wanted to hunt your kind.
Taking innocent lives and treating their corpses like trophies.
Though no matter how careful- you were bound to some day make a mistake. Like so many others.
-
"There it is!!! Right there!!!"
Yells ripped through the night, you tried to dive back below the surface only to feel something tangled around your body.
Helpless screams did you no good, how you ended up in this scenario was blurry to begin with, a painful haze.
Hands grasping at your body and their skin felt so awful, it made you crawl with hate that these foul creatures dare touch you.
Thrashing desperately you finally broke free, though not before an unknown object was sank deep into your tail, blood billowing into the water around you as you swam away.
-
You laid in the sun leaned against a rock, the forest was peaceful along the shore near the creek. Nobody ever came out here so it was the perfect place.
There was some form of a harpoon lodged into your tail, hooked deep into your flesh. No matter how hard you tried you couldn't get it out.
Is this how you died? Like some sort of sad fish with a hook trapped in it's mouth?
Suddenly you were alarmed by heavy boot steps heading towards you, head snapping up and scooting closer to the waters edge- there he stood.
The biggest fucking man you have ever seen in your life.
His eyes met yours from behind his snipers hood, he looked absolutely dumbfounded as well at the sight of you- a mermaid?
An injured mermaid?
Your body tensed up naturally not trusting him, staring at him as though he was some horrid predator.
His gaze softened slightly as he studied your form, questioning how anyone could do that to you. He didn't know you but- he was aware of the tales of those who hunted mermaids for sport. He was certain this was the case for you as well.
"It's alright- I won't hurt you. I can help."
His offer sounded genuine and you didn't fail to pick up on that strong accent, you still didn't trust him but- what other choice did you have?
Either accept his help or lay here and accept your fate.
Slowly you nodded and he moved closer to you, squatting down he touched you in such a careful way. He slipped off his gloves to handle your wound.
His skin didn't feel the same- this touch wasn't the same. It didn't disgust you or make you feel hate- it was comforting.... Warm.
He's never handled a mermaid before so he was surprised by how smooth your scales were- he kind of expected them to be slimy like a fish.
The way they glinted and shined in the light was mesmerizing, his deep brown eyes never left them or your wound.
"This is going to hurt- a lot."
You took a deep breath and carefully he removed the harpoon, cautious to not cause any more damage to you.
It did hurt- so bad you thought you might pass out. Tears rolling down your cheeks as you choked out soft sobs, he did his best to talk you through it and comfort you.
Bringing out his med kit he tried to clean you up best he could and stitch you up, he wasn't sure if this was the right way to go about it- but he couldn't exactly bring you to a proper medic or something.
"It's okay. It's okay."
Finally it was over- your eyes drifted up to lock with his and you felt your breath hitch slightly.
Such a gentle giant.
"Thank you..."
You choked out softly and he simply nodded, it was difficult to look away from him. You couldn't stand the thought of not seeing him again.
You didn't know why but you were fond of this human- and he seemed fond of you as well.
"Can you come back to visit me?"
"I'll try."
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{Yes- I HC König has brown eyes.}
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{@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @sofasoap }
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{More Content}
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eatmyassssssssz · 1 year
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warnings: tooth rotting fluff, actual love, obvious relationship pre-fic, civilian!reader, soft crying because he's too kind, he loves you, like a lot, soft smut, kiss-y smut, könny is a big ol' slut for thighs.
enjoy!!
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he wraps his arms round your hips, holding you close to himself, peppering your head with kisses. he'd just got comfortable enough with you to not wear his mask around you.
once he'd finished kissing your head, you turn around to face him and look up at him for just a few moments, admiring all of his features, admiring his jaw, his bridged nose, his clept lip, his everything.
he might, in his own head, not look perfect, but to you, he was nothing short of angel like, perfection, innocence in a 6'10 military man who can kill people with little to no regard.
"könny, i love you. i really do." saying 'i love you' between the two of you was rare. not because you didn't, but because you wanted to keep the meaning of the word 'love' sacred, something to be blessed upon, not a greeting, or a casual word, or something you can say infront of people. for sensitive times, sensual times, close times, between the two of you and the two of you only.
he kisses your nose, and whispers to you. "i do too, maus, i love you too." he meant it with every cell in his body. every single cell in his body continued for you, his heart only pounds in his chest when you speak with him, he feels.
he may not be the most handsome, or the richest, or the most experienced, or the most important to others, but to you? to you he was. to you, hes perfect, everything you want and could ever need.
"i don't deserve you." he coos at you, his accent soft, his arms hugging your waist lovingly and full of sweet feeling.
"kön, you know i don't like you saying things like that..." he nods in reply to your disapproval. "yes, i do. but i really don't."
"don't make me hug you to death, mister!"
"oh nooooo!" he laughs lazily. this was the real him, the real könig, not just the operator behind KorTac or the man who can shoot a gun or the man who's killed many.
he hated that him. he loathed it. but moments like this? moments like this runs his mind dry of any negative thoughts. all thats in his mind is how he loves you and everything you do and how every single second with you is the new best second of his life.
he sighs lovingly, mind filled of appreciation that he managed to get someone as perfect as you. "oh, i love you.."
"you already said that, könny."
"yes, but you need to know it off by heart."
"i do, but I'm not going to refuse it."
he smiles softly, a dimple on his face becoming more obvious. his downturned smile was encapsulating all of his adoration for you.
"sweetheart, you're perfect. please don't refuse it."
"mhn, i won't."
kisses became longful kisses, longful kisses because sensual kisses, sensual became needy, needy became begging.
"oh, i love you, honey, i do, oh, i do.." he whines out as you rub the fabric of his boxers, specially teasing his poor little sensitive tip. "i know, baby, i know...just take that stimulation for me..be good." he nods in response. you discard his boxers after 5 more minutes of torture, swiping the pad of your soft skinned thumb over his delicate cock.
"p-please..maus!"
he bucks up one more time before a long bead string of cum leaves him, tears running down his delicate face.
@lillianastuff
@madamemelancholysstuff
@ask-the-virtual-council
@hearts-for-william
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macravishedbymactavish · 10 months
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A Symptom of Being Human (John "Soap" Mactavish x GN! Reader)
Look at me cleaning up my drafts with 2 finished WIPs in one night.
TW for very light angst and a very concerned Soap
| Blog HQ | Modern Warfare 2 Masterlist |
"You dinnae look happy" a voice commented as you walked into the shared kitchen. You spared him a shrug as you continued quietly to the cupboards, looking for your cup to make a warm drink in.
"What's bothering ye? You can talk to me, I don't bite" The corner of your mouth twitched at that, while he could be loud, and border the line of obnoxious his heart was in the right place.
"Would you believe me if I told you it's just how I look?" You glanced over your shoulder, watching as he slowly squinted at you. Clearly not buying it.
"Just my face, Irish Spring. I'm having a really good day actually" you shrugged once more, ignoring his protests mumbled from under his breath about the nickname. ('M not even Irish…)
As far as you could remember, you were always having people checking in on your wellbeing. Friends, distant family, caring strangers, store clerks, and teammates. Your normal expression clearly wasn't welcoming and optimistic. It was the opposite actually - you looked like you hated the world and everyone in it at all times.
"But you look miserable" You appreciated his concern, but didn't need him worrying about you. Pausing slightly, you shook your head before glancing over at your friend.
"The face looks upset, the soul feels good. Do you want a coffee?" You lightly chuckled, grabbing another mug out of the cabinet when he accepted your offer.
--
"You're concerning Soap" Ghost confided to you later that day, following a sparring session between the two of you. "He's convinced you're depressed and not telling him everything"
You couldn't help but playfully roll your eyes, you loved your teammate. You really did, but he was so overly concerned for nothing.
"I've told him, it's just my face. I don't know what more I can do, outside of wearing a mask like my resting bitchfaced friend" you smirked at Simon, watching him copy the action you had just done a moment prior.
"You know 'im as well as I do, he's not going to suddenly stop being concerned. Especially since he thinks you're devastated about something and hiding it" Simon had a point...shit.
It was at dinner that night, when you felt a pair of eyes burning a hole in the side of your head. You had a fairly good guess at who was on the other end so you continued eating.
How many times do I need to tell him I'm fine? It's just. My. Face.
You opted against entertaining the concerned stare, in favour of continuing your meal. Making small bits of conversation with your table mates between bites. That was until you heard a soft, yet obnoxious shuffling getting closer. He wouldn't.
"Hey guys" Kyle awkwardly greeted, placing his tray down at one of the empty chairs across the table from you. "Thought I'd sit here, change of pace" you arched a brow at the man, seeing right through his change of pace.
You continued picking at your food, waiting for the question to be asked. Waiting for the confirmation that Kyle didn't come by to just hang out. Glancing up at him every so often, you watched as the man sat awkwardly across from you. Shoulders stiff as he sat.
"You can tell Johnny that I'm fine" you commented after another moment of silence. "And you don't have to stay if you don't want to"
He gave you a small smile before picking his tray up and returning to his main group. Leaving you to roll your eyes, and audibly groan when you felt another tray land beside you.
"No. I'm eating, you do not get to badger me about this now" voice trailing off as your eyes met those of the confused recruit. "Nevermind, I honestly thought you were someone else"
Poking at the food for a second longer, your appetite leaving the chat after you potentially scarred the poor stranger. Dumping the remnants of your tray into the trash, you sighed softly as you continued on to your room.
3 steps from your door, you heard a familiar voice call out to you. Jogging up to meet you before you passed the threshold.
"Are ye sure you're okay?" He asked, leaning against the wall in front of you. You debated whether or not to call him out on his dinner plan, and involving Kyle in all of this madness. Deciding against it in the moment, you went with a simple:
"I'm fine, Johnny. I promise I'd tell you if I wasn't" followed by a small smile, almost missing the unfocused gaze he was giving you.
Almost.
The two of you sat in silence, a rarity for the man in front of you. The team could've swore he was allergic to silences unless required for work. Always chattering about something, making silly jokes or teasing his friends. But right now? He sat silently, unmoving. Eyes staring right through you as his mind was clearly not within range. You lifted your hand to wave it in front of his face, then it clicked. The reason why he was so concerned for you. The moment passed as soon as it began, quickly blinking and refocusing on you.
"I know you would, I still worry for ye though" a small punch to the shoulder, and he was making his way down the hallway. Leaving you standing in place, eyebrows furrowed with the latest revelation. How did you never realize this before? Turning to stop him, to sit him down and ensure he was alright, you were met with an empty corridor.
Frozen in place, you ignored the dull ache growing behind your chest. The gnawing feeling in your mind as you debated on running up after him. Worried that it would give the wrong message after you spent the last few days all but begging him to quit.
You couldn't get the sight out of your head, out of your heart. The flash of hidden agony in his eyes, emotion covered up by extrovert tendencies. Making sure everyone else felt alright and was doing fine, as a coping mechanism?
No. This is not up for speculation.
"Johnny, wait" you called, jogging down the hallway to go find him. "Are you okay?"
Without stopping, he turned his head and shrugged.
"It's just my face, bonnie"
Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @v1naco @bowtruckleninja
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celestialsun888 · 1 year
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Headcannons: Ghost & Soap
(NSFW)
@celestialsun888
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⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
Pairing(s)/Characters: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley & Johnny ‘Soap’ Mctavish x Gn! reader
Genre: bffr: it’s a lil filthy with hints of crack/fluff [18+ MDNI]
Word Count: 386
Synopsis: I once again have listened to them. It's all true bc they told me!
★ TW: Established relations ;3, talks about kinks, type of lovers they are, no ‘real’ warnings just know there is smut in the cut okie! Oh ya, mentions of pegging ;)) when the word 'weird' is written, its not in a shaming way (if its weird to your personal taste, if that makes sense!)
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✒ Authors Note: Its a bit self indulgent… ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
You all have most definitely thought about a threesome, Soap would probably be the one to say it aloud. 
Ghost is a switch but prefers to top (he likes the control).
Soap is a power bottom (no I am not going to argue).
Ghost has a slight God complex when having seggs
Soap is vocal. Ghost isn't as much.
Ghost is thicker, soap is longer (no i will not elaborate…maybe….you freaks)
WHOS BETTER AT AFTERCARE?! Soap me thinks (but ofc ik bc they showed told me)
Soap is a more sensual lover, would press his forehead to yours and giggle with you checking to see how you were enjoying it.
Ghost would fuck you rough, would check to see if you were enjoying it but in a more… primal way… (aka how loud you moan for him or how many times he makes you cum)
GHOST IS A PLEASURE/ SERVICE  DOM!!!!!!1!11!
Soaps pet names for you are pure me thinks (honey, baby, lover/ my love, darling, MY BELOVED! – imagine the accent too, im pissing that's so cute)
Ghosts pet names lowkey kinda hit or miss. I feel like he really would call you by your name *_* I think he would call you more suggestive (slightly less *pure* at least) types of pet names (princess, doll, sweetheart, probs a short version of your name or nickname, this mf might even pull some ‘weird’ shit like snuggums or pumpkin, most likely when intoxicated). 
THEY BOTH FEEL SEGGSY WHEN THEY DRINK WINE, MOST DEF A GUILTY PLEASURE IDC IDC
side: imagine them having wine nights talking shit
Soap might let you peg (but dont tell him i said that…)
Soap would ask you to check under the bed for monsters.
Ghost is the monster.
Soaps ‘weird’ fetish: mf seems like he’s into feet ngl. Just get that vibe from him, but nothing too crazy (other than the pegging) 
Ghosts ‘weird’ fetish: piss…IDK HE SEEMS LIKE THE TYPE (pls dont come for me, he just seems like he likes to ruin people stuff)
Soap sleeps w/ socks on, no doubt. Socks and undies
Ghost sleeps w/o socks but seems like a sweatpants/no shirt kinda guy. and no underwear
Both these mfs sleep with flat ass, pancake ass, pillow(s). I just know it. Soap probs only has one and ghost seems like he would care a little more and have two.
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mlmxreader · 1 year
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To Be Together Again | Kim Horangi Hong-jin x m!reader
@satan-incarnate-666 asked: "Fuck you and your cute smile!" horangi x m!reader
summary: to be reunited is one thing, but to be able to mess around and to actually happy is completely different.
tws: swearing 
support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy
Horangi smiled up at you, playfully tugging his wrists as you held them above his head; his shirt was halfway across the room, probably near wherever you had thrown your own, and somehow, between kisses you had caught the tiger off-guard, and now had his wrists pinned to the soft duvet. He couldn’t help but to grin, so thankful that he was home that he could hardly even put it into words; he just wanted to keep looking at you above him, keep noticing how fucking handsome you were and wondering if maybe he wasn’t entirely unlucky after all.
He had, in defence of his usually shit luck, managed to get you to be his boyfriend; that was probably the luckiest he had ever been, the day when you agreed to have a steady relationship. Horangi had never been so lucky, and he had never been as lucky since either. He couldn’t wipe the grin from his face as he kept his eyes on you, not even trying not to hide how fond of you he truly was; no longer at base, you didn’t have to hide anything anymore for the sake of acting professional until you were alone with either your SAS squadron or KorTac. 
The sound of ‘Versailles’ by Sabaton playing softly from the speaker. The smell of you against the bedsheets. The comfort of knowing that his clothes were in the wardrobe and not strewn about some concrete floor. His CDs piled up next to yours, a mix of heavy metal and Frank Sinatra. The familiar creaky grey floorboard three steps from the door. The taste of that coffee brand you liked on his lips. Horangi was over the fucking moon to be home at last, and he was so determined to make every goddamn second count. 
You let go of his wrists, trailing a hand from his jaw to his stomach before you lowered yourself down, your entire weight resting on him as you pressed your face to the side of his neck, letting him put his arm around you as you hummed so contently; the soft touches, gentle caresses, so soothing as he gently ran his hand up and down your body. You were so warm against him, and he couldn’t help but to close his eyes as he relaxed against the duvet; he would have tied there, more than happy and content just to be with you.
“So, tiger,” you hummed, shifting around slightly so that you could trace little patterns on his bare chest. “What’d you wanna do now we’re both on leave?”
Horangi thought about it for a moment, letting out a quiet yawn; it wasn’t even getting late, it was only four o’clock in the morning, but he was absolutely shattered from where he was fresh from the battlefield. You both were, and he could tell from the way that your breath was starting to get slower and softer that you were starting to drift off to sleep without him; but he couldn’t be angry, not when you cuddled into him even more. 
“I was thinking,” Horangi started, “that maybe we could take a trip to the zoo like we did for our first date… then head to the woods, spend a while wandering around… then come back and have a film marathon.”
“That sounds amazing,” you murmured sleepily, grazing your teeth against his neck just to make him shiver. Payback, for when he had bitten into your neck a few minutes ago. “Horror film marathon?”
He let out a soft laugh. “Is there any other kind?”
“What’d you have in mind?”
“The Wailing,” he started, “Train To Busan, The Host, Save the Green Planet, A Tale of Two Sisters, Three...Extremes Saam gaang yi, I Saw the Devil and Thirst.”
“I’ve seen one of those,” you admitted with a soft laugh. “So I’m down.”
Horangi had always had a soft spot for horror films, but he was even more glad that he got to share his favourites with you; getting you to watch them with him was always his favourite pastime, just feeling you against him and hearing your little jokes now and then. He would be content like that for hours, and as he thought about it, he couldn’t bite back the bright grin that came to his lips again; he would be looking forward to that for hours, now, counting down the minutes until you told him you were ready to start the marathon.
“Wipe that fucking grin from your lips,” you grumbled softly, playful and teasing. “Or I will do it for you.”
“Do it, then,” he teased back just as softly and playfully. “Or are you scared that KorTac will beat the SAS for once?”
“That sounds like a threat,” you mused. “Are you threatening me, Hong-jin?”
“Maybe,” Horangi replied, “but I wouldn’t tell you if I was.”
Slowly, you moved so that you were straddling his waist, your hands on his chest as you stared down at him with a raised brow; he wasted no time in putting his hands on your sides, keeping you there until he laughed and smiled at you. 
“Fuck you and your cute smile!” You couldn’t help but to laugh as well, leaning down so that you could distract him with a kiss and make him stop smiling.
His hands came to your face, cradling it gently as you kissed him ever so tenderly; both of you were more than glad to be home and safe, but you were even more glad to be with one another again. To be able to mess around and have playful arguments like that, it meant fucking everything to you both; it meant that all the lost time you missed when you were both deployed and away was finally all made up and caught up. 
You were both fucking ecstatic to be with one another again, it was definitely painfully obvious.
“I win,” you whispered against his lips as you pulled away.
“I’ll get you one day,” he warned.
“Oh, tiger,” you tutted, shaking your head. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
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certifiedcodbabygirl · 2 months
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I need Simon Riley who realizes just how much he loves you when he has a night terror.
He shoots out of bed with a shout, quickly looking to your side just to see it empty. His heart quickens even faster, images of your dead body, blood pouring out of your mouth and ears, eyes frantic before they still and glaze over. Remembering the scream he lets out as he shakes you, begging you.
"Please, please don't fuckin leave, love. God, not you. Please, you promised!"
He's having a panic attack and before he even processes it, he's running to the bathroom. Throwing him head into the toilet bowl, puking everything up as if his entire body is rejecting the very possibility of you no longer being there. He can't stop the tears ripping out of him and his fast, suffocating breaths stinging his throat as if the vomit isn't even there.
He doesn't even register your hand on his back, your panicked calling out to him.
"Baby? Baby what's wrong? Please talk to me" You beg, brushing his hair back, trying to hold onto him.
His wide, tear filled eyes meet yours and he throws himself into your arms, holding onto you like a lifeline. His crying doesn't stop, the intense emotions still overwhelming his senses.
"God please never leave me. I swear to god I'll be the best for you. I'll keep you safe, nothin's gonna happen to you" He swear as if he'd be your own guardian angel.
"Baby what happened? Did you have a nightmare?" You pet his hair, beginning to realize what's happening.
"I can't lose you, I can't. Not you. Please, I can't." He cries into your shirt, trying to calm down but he feels genuine fear that he doesn't feel outside the battlefield. You hold him as his breathing slows down, exhaustion overtaking him. You settle against the wall, fingers combing through his hair as you both fall asleep. Safe to say he doesn't have anymore nightmares that night.
(Friendly reminder that traumatized men aren't always fully numb and military men can have feelings !!)
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l13 · 1 year
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♡simon 'ghost' riley♡
idiots in love, but also a set-up for a future smut with my babygirl ghost
cw: female!reader, ghost has a lot of thoughts about hurting soap but he doesn't mean it!! i think.. IT'S JUST FLUFFY FLUFF, some descriptive sexual thoughts.
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It was Ghost’s birthday, not that he told you himself, of course. You found out on your own. So, when you gave him a poorly wrapped box, he made a mental note to punch Soap later for not keeping his mouth shut. “What’s this?” he asked but took the box anyway, inspecting the wrinkly wrapping paper (knowing damn well this took you more than one try to wrap), amusement dancing in his eyes. 
You cleared your throat, suddenly cursing yourself for even getting him a gift. This was weird, right? Sure, you guys were friends but not i’ll-buy-you-gifts type of friends. You’ve killed people together before, for Christ's sake. “A little birdie told me it was your birthday..” he raised a blond eyebrow at that and you caught a movement of where his mouth would be, the material of his balaclava shifting. Did he just smile?
“Was this birdie Scottish, by any chance?” trying to ignore the way his gruff voice affected you, you chuckled instead, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to ignore the goosebumps on your skin. “Don’t get too mad at him, I basically blackmailed him to tell me,” you muttered out the last part but he shot you a look and you knew he’d heard you. Oh, well.
Ghost decided to ignore the flip of his stomach at the thought of you wanting to know his birthdate. It was stupid.…Right?
“Are you gonna open it or what?” That brought his attention back to his gift, and you watched as his hands peeled the duck tape off the paper gently, as if he didn’t want to rip it. A more forceful tug on the other side of the box ripped the edge slightly and he clicked his tongue, muttering under his breath. Once the edges were off, he placed his pointer and middle finger under the wrapping paper, and slid it across, successfully getting the rest of the duck tape off. 
Why were you holding your breath? Why was this weirdly erotic? Why couldn’t he have ugly hands? 
You lost focus, the rest of the room blurring together as you followed the movements of his hands. They were so big, and the veins that decorated them were so pretty, and you really wanted his hands against your throat--
A huffed out chuckle brought you back, and you blinked rapidly, noticing that he’d already opened the box, currently holding his gift in his hands. He looked up at you, proudly raising it towards you and you couldn’t help the grin that overtook your face.
His palm held a white cup that looked awfully small in his hands, with ‘#1 Asshole’ written on it with black bold letters. “Woow, it suits you, LT.” you bit your lip, trying not to laugh and he let out another huff, shaking his head slightly. “I noticed that Soap was stealing the cup you like to use, so I thought I'd get you your own..” your eyes dropped to his hands once more, noticing how he was circling the rim of it with his finger. You inhaled sharply, “Not that it will stop him from stealing this one, he’s a menace-”
“He won't.” your eyes snapped to his, noticing he was already looking at you. There was a promise in his words that sent a shiver down your spine and you shifted on your feet. “Well.. I better get going,” you smiled at him, walking towards the door, pausing next to him and letting your hand touch his arm, feeling him immediately tense under your touch. Right. You let go of him just as quickly, muttering a rushed “Happy birthday, Simon.” and practically running out the door. 
<3
When Ghost went to his room, he placed the mug on his bedside table gently, making sure the writing faced his bed. Once he’d changed and finally took his balaclava off, he laid on his bed and turned to his side to stare at it again. He stared, and stared and all he could think about was you. He couldn’t stop the stupid grin plastered on his face even if he tried to, mentally cursing himself for acting so awkward in front of you. Feeling his eyes start to close, he mumbled a “Thank you,”. The thanks he owed you. The thanks he would have said to you if he wasn’t frozen on the spot by the slightest physical contact from you. 
<3
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2023 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.
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bagofshinyrocks · 2 months
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The Baby is Sick
Prompt: The baby (and the two of you) somehow got a cold. Simon wants to make sure you get enough rest and decide to take care of the baby when he wakes up in the middle of the night. [Requested by @ertepla]
Featuring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!Reader
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: none
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You weren’t sure who brought a cold into your house. If it was someone besides you or Simon, you cursed them and wished them every single misery. If it was either you or your husband, you had no strong feelings. As you two were already in purgatory.
Because the baby was sick. And when baby was sick, he decided to make everyone else equally (or more so) miserable.
You and Simon were always covered in snot and saliva, as your son had not yet learn to not sneeze or cough directly in someone’s face. The baby wasn’t eating as much, which scared the shit out of you. No one was sleeping well.
“I know, little man, I know,” Simon soothed, as your son whined and flailed in his arms. “I know, it’s not fun. But it’s gonna help.” 
He was wrestling a nose aspirator into the second nostril. You didn’t blame your kid, having a tube that sucks all the snot out of your nose real fast didn’t sound real comfortable. But you know what was worse? Cleaning the snot out of the tube.
“See? You can breathe better.”
Simon bounced the boy a little, and he soon stopped crying, though still a bit grumpy with his dad. He started breathing through his nose and accepted his bottle again. You almost cried in relief.
“He’s okay, lovie,” murmured your husband, siddling up next to you and wrapping his arms around the two of you.
Your son looked up at the two of you with sleepy eyes. Simon’s brown eyes fluttered behind the boy’s lashes, and his hold on his bottle got looser. You helped him angle his bottle into his mouth and Simon rubbed his stomach.
He got through three quarters of the bottle before pushing it aside, and you considered that a victory.
“Time for bed, little bug?” you cooed, gently raising him up and walking to his nursery. Little burps and sleepy noises as you went and 
While you changed the baby and wiped his face of snot, milk, and drool, Simon refilled the humidifier and covered the windows to hide the fact the sun was still up. Any time your son seemed a little sleepy, you two would put him down for bed and then try to get as much sleep for yourselves.
With the care of disabling an explosive, Simon lowered the boy into his crib and tucked him in. You watched silently from the hallway and he tiptoed back to you and closed the door.
“Time for bed,” he whispered to you.
“It’s only 7 PM.”
“I know.” He beamed. “Aren’t I good husband? We get to go to bed early.”
Fifteen minutes later, you two were tucked into your own bed. Heads elevated with pillows, cups of water nearby, and a humidifier running quietly. The chest rub and a generous amount of petroleum gel on your lips and noses made the two of you shiny.
“Nighty night, baby,” you murmured.
“G’night, honey.”
Simon jerked awake at the first squawk. You hadn’t even moved by the time he was stumbling into the nursery and leaning over the crib.
“Wha’s wrong, little man,” he asked in a gravelly, sleepy voice.
The boy’s face was red, and tears and snot dripped anew. Little hands reached for Dad, and Dad picked him up.
“You’re alright.” Pats on the boy’s back and gentle bounces. “Dad’s here. Dad’s gotcha.” Small fingers burrowed into the collar of his hoodie and a small splotch of drool and snot darkened his shoulder. After a few moments of silence, Simon leaned the boy back and asked him what was up.
He held up his little fist and opened and closed it. Hungry.
Simon kissed the boy on the forehead and walked to the kitchen. “Just like Uncle Johnny. Always ready for another bottle.”
Simon expertly made half a bottle with one hand, while the little man sniffled and watched. A tissue to his nose helped a bit, and Simon decided against another round with the nose aspirator till the morning. Well, sunlight morning. All of you had slept from 7 PM to 1 AM.
More kisses and your boy started his bottle while Simon made himself a snack. With a sandwich and a boy in each hand, he sat on the couch and turned on the TV. 
While the baby was transfixed by dancing fruit and sucking down his bottle, Simon could eat the whole sandwich. And “rest his eyes” for a few minutes.
A particularly dangerous sounding burp woke him again and he immediately grabbed a towel and started burping him, turning his back to the screen.
“Christ, that was a wet one. Get any on ya?”
No response as the boy stared at the blueberries and pineapples.
“Yeah, I’d keep that to myself, too.”
After almost five minutes, the boy’s head sat heavily on his shoulder and his brown eyes could barely stay open. Another diaper change, more rocking, and then placing him in the crib like an active bomb.
Success.
Simon changed his hoodie without bothering to look at the damage (he could smell it) and crawled back into bed with you.
The bags under your eyes had lightened in your sleep, and your nose looked less raw. He kissed the tip of it gently and fell back asleep with ease.
Simon woke up again around 10 AM, to small hands grabbing at his nose. He opened bleary eyes to the smile of an elated infant.
“Dadadadada.”
“Mm, tha’s me.”
The mattress dipped a little as you sat down.
“Morning, handsome.”
The little man crawled on top of his dad’s chest and sat down, playing with his nose and the strings of his hoodie.
“Morning, sexy,” chuckled Simon, guiding your face to his. A sweet kiss, joined by the baby, who shoved his face against yours. He didn’t like being left out.
“Guess who drank a full bottle this morning?”
“Didja really?” cooed Simon, poking the boy’s tummy. “He had half a bottle at around 1.”
“He woke up at 1?”
Simon squeezed the little socked feet. “Yeah, he was hungry. And needed a change. He went back down quick after that.”
You kissed your husband’s forehead. “Thank you for waking up, baby.”
“Mm. You needed some more sleep.” A nip at your lip until you leaned back in for another longer kiss. “Can’t have my sexy thing staying sick.”
“I’ll get him tonight then.” He scrunched up his face and started to protest. “Ah. I can’t have my sexy thing sick either.” You squeezed the muscles of his upper arms and waggled your eyebrows.
The baby squawked and broke the sultry eye contact between you and your husband. Then he giggled as he and his father’s chest went up and down with a laugh.
“Oh trust me, little man, you’ll be an only child for a while.” Simon poked the boy’s tummy again. “Don’chu worry. Sneezing straight into my yawning mouth has made sure of that.”
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Posted: 2024 January 17
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lazybutsmexy · 1 year
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Emotional support bird
Ghost x fem!Reader (Canary) x Soap
Warnings: none. Pure fluff.
Word count: 850~
PT. 2
On AO3
A/N: take this as a little apology for all the angst I've been posting for this OT3 🫶♥️
“Simon, you’re not gonna believe what we saw at the market today!” (Y/n) greeted him with a wide smile as he held the door open for her and Johnny as they carried their full tote-bags into his house. Simon took a brief moment to admire the rosy apples of her cheeks, and her ever-present sparkling eyes, before she rushed into the kitchen to leave her bag on the counter. Johnny followed after her with a grin, offering Simon a wink as he headed straight to the fridge to leave the cold produce in it. 
“...What did you see?” Simon inquired, his curiosity peaked as he shut the door and locked it, before following after his partners to help put the groceries away. They had decided to spend their mandatory two-week post-mission break at Simon’s house, but he had been severely understocked of food, hence the decision was made that Johnny and (Y/n) would make a trip to the closest farmer’s market and gather a few things they would need for the next few days.
“An emotional support dog!” she cooed as she handed him the jars that had to be stored away in the upper cabinets, “a beautiful chocolate lab, her coat was very shiny and she looked super cuddly too!” Simon took the small jars in twos, carefully setting them in their correct places as he listened to her, the hint of a smile teasing his lips as he listened to her. “She was with a family, but I think her owner was the smaller kid, he was holding the leash.” She glanced at Johnny, who still hadn’t been able to wipe the grin off his face. He had already listened to her ramble about the dog, and found it impossible to resist her contagious enthusiasm. 
“Those dogs work for different kinds of people,” Simon commented, “wonder why the kid would need one.” 
“I don’t know, didn’t ask,” (Y/n) shrugged, handing him the last jar - a gallon jar of pickled peppers, her latest obsession, “I didn’t want to approach them and make them think that I was questioning them for having one.” 
“...Do we really need a jar this big?” Simon arched an eyebrow as he picked the jar, nevertheless putting it in place with the others and silently thanking his past self for purchasing such sturdy kitchen cabinets.
“Yes, we do,” (Y/n) nodded in all seriousness, before her beaming smile returned as quickly as it had disappeared, “Oh! She even had her cute little vest on!” she cooed, a pout tugging at the center of her lips as she ended with a whine, “She was so~ cute!”
“Aw, Tweety-bird, don’t be jealous,” Johnny reached over and planted a wet smooch on her cheek, instantly tinting her entire face in a flush, “I think you look even cuter when you wear your vest~.”
“‘m not a dog, though,” she whined, and John and Simon shared a knowing look.
“So, you agree you look cute in your vest,” Simon smirked, his finger poking her nose and causing her to erupt in a giggle, gently swatting his hand away from her face.
“Oh, shut it, you know what I mean!”
Yeah, they knew. 
~~~~~~
Two weeks later, as the team prepared to go on yet another mission to the other side of the world, Canary ran her checklist again, making sure everything was packed and ready to go. She was interrupted by two sharp knocks on the door, and she was pleasantly surprised when Ghost appeared at her doorway when she answered her door. 
“Oh, hi! What’s-”
“I have a job for you,” he cut her off, and her brow tightened slightly at his serious tone, “follow me.” He left no room for questions as he swiftly turned around and began marching down the hallway in the direction he had come from. Canary was hot on his heels, wondering what this important job could be, being so close to the start of their new mission. 
They headed straight to the infirmary, and her confusion only grew when she found Soap sitting on a chair, his left sleeve pulled up all the way above his shoulder, and the nurse waiting patiently next to him with a ready syringe. 
“Ah, there she is!” Soap declared brightly, lifting his right arm and holding his hand out to her, “come here, I need you.” 
Canary blinked but didn’t hesitate to hold his hand, still confused about the ordeal, “Um, what do you need me for?”
Soap couldn’t stop his grin from widening even more as he squeezed her hand, “Emotional support, duh,” he glanced at the nurse and tilted his head back to Canary, “this is my emotional support bird.” 
Canary’s face burned as the nurse shook her head in amusement, getting on with giving Soap his booster shot. His eyes were trained on her in a soft gaze, and she debated whether she wanted to kiss him or smack him in the back of his head, leaning towards the latter as she noticed Ghost clearing his throat to disguise a chuckle behind her. 
She still held his hand, though.
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yawnderu · 3 months
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>Simon Riley with bigger pecs because he's bulking save me,,,.....
“Do it again.” Your drunken commands are met with a sigh, though like always— he listens. His muscles flex as he contracts his pecs, letting you feel the mix of fat and muscle moving right under your face, keeping it buried on his bigger pecs.
“That's so fucking cool.” Your words are muffled by his chest, fully focused on the way he can isolate each pec and moves them individually just to impress you. Your hands go down his shirt, traveling up to his now softer tummy and squeezing the fat, too drunk and in love to even care about the amused chuckle that leaves his lips, pressing your face closer to his chest.
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empresskylo · 4 months
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you can't convince me that simon doesn't swoon when you first start calling him by his first name.
like he's so used to being ghost to everyone. even back home, he doesn't have many people there anymore, no one to know him as simon. at most, it's the man at the local convenience store or his one nice neighbor in the apartment across from his who knows him as that. and on that rare occasion price says his real name, he feels human again.
but when he finally tells you his name, you instantly start using it instead of calling him ghost. the first time he hears it over comms, he gets this weird butterfly feeling in his stomach. he becomes so infatuated with the way you say his name.
he likes that you're the only one to call him that, just like he's the only one to call soap johnny. when someone else teases him, asking if they can call him simon too, he definitely grunts out a ‘i wouldn’t if i were you’
and whenever you call him si, he is reminded how much he fucking loves you. he gets so soft when you call him that. it's like reminding him he's not just a killer or a weapon of mass destruction. he's a person. he's your person. he's more than the mask.
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homicidal-slvt · 10 months
Text
Blue-Eyed Snake {Pt. 3}
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MDNI
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Part 1 | Part 2
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Phillip Graves x F!Reader
Civilian|Y/N
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Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Hurt + Comfort, Injury Mention, Mildly Suggestive
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You just couldn't help the way you were pulled towards the man and he felt the same.
He felt as though this was something he couldn't- shouldn't have. Yet here you were looking so perfect seated in his living room, thumbing through one of his books.
You couldn't resist teasing him about his taste.
"Do you not have any interesting books? Just hunting books and dull shit?"
He chuckled and ruffled your hair, earning a gasp and playful swat from your hand.
"Those books are important. I don't need any of those fantasy books like you have in your house, darlin'."
You rolled your eyes and then he got that cocky little smirk of his.
"Though I must admit- there was one with some interesting parts in it."
You flush red realizing he must of discovered your smutty book. You were convinced he wouldn't really go through them.
Of course the man was curious as all hell... You both had at least that in common.
"Shut up."
It was a weak retort and you knew it but how else should you respond to that. His laugh was ridiculously infectious though- damn it Phillip.
I'm trying to be mad
You thought with a huff biting back the trembles of laughter tumbling out of you.
Ah yes- that shit eating grin of his was back. He never failed to adore how he made you laugh even when you tried to pretend to be mad.
••
There was a certain weight in the air that was different as he stood in your homes entryway, blue eyes settled on you as you gazed back at him.
A current threatening to drag you under.
"I'll take you on a proper date when I get back, yeah?"
"Is that a promise?"
He stepped closer placing his finger beneath your chin, tilting your head up he leaned in.
Breath caught in your throat and eyes fluttering shut, he gave you the gentlest kiss he ever has. Revelling in how your lips fit with his, he'd do whatever he could to take that pained look from your expression.
Hesitantly he knew he had to go, pulling back he breathed out ever so softly and sincerely, words he intended to keep.
"It's a god damn guarantee, doll."
Of course it wasn't something he could truly for sure say but he was too stubborn to admit that to himself.
••
It was going on 7 months at this point.
Your home never felt more empty and cold, before Phillip you didn't mind the quiet but now all it did was torment your mind.
He's not coming back.
That thought made you ache, oh how you wished he'd just walk through that door again. Prove those nagging feelings wrong.
It was a guarantee- a guarantee he would come home to you.
You knew it was foolish to believe him- believe in that idea.
What's even worse was that bubbling anger, how could he steal your heart like this? Take it straight from your chest and leave with it.
A hold remaining within that you tried to fill with work and hobbies, none of which amounted to that teasing banter you had grown so fond of.
What you wouldn't give to just hear that southern drawl again, that voice that as time went on grew more distant in the back of your head.
You were torn between the thoughts of how it would be easier to forget and wanting so desperately for it to never fade.
••
It was late and you passed out asleep on the couch watching TV again, a knock made you jolt awake quite frankly rather startled.
Annoyed and rubbing at your eyes- who the hell would be here at this time of night? A robber? A serial killer?
Carefully you made your way to the door trying to be quiet, peeking out the peep hole you spotted a familiar form and your heart stopped.
Am I still asleep?
You felt as though you were being deceived somehow.
"Phillip...?"
"I'm back, doll."
No further thought was put in as you flung open the door, diving into his arms right there in the dark on your porch, not even bothering to take a better look at him first- you just needed to feel him.
He tugged you closer to his chest and sucked in a harsh breath, it was clear the moment he was back he came to see you.
He moved to shuffle you into the house, shutting the door behind both of you. Your eyes finally landed on his face, his adoring blue eyes were the same...
However there were burn scars covering over half his face, it was clear he still had some healing to do as well.
"How bout' that date tomorrow?"
You were snapped out of your thoughts and couldn't help but chuckle, of course he remembered that and was even smiling. As if he hadn't been gone so long and had a near death experience.
Truly though- holding you and going back to how things were was his way of coping with it all. His main fear was leaving you here- not even being able to give you any closure. Nothing.
That little taste of near death truly made him appreciate everything all that more, he couldn't waste any of this. He was gifted you by the world and he couldn't let that slip away.
Not when the only thought on his mind was you the whole time he was teetering on the edge.
"I'd love to go to that cafe in town."
"Course darlin'."
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{I was initially going to do a sad ending but I couldn't do that to y'all.}
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