#domestic mw

[someonexsomeone]

Ducktail

Title: Ducktail

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 1.6k

Pairing: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x Reader

Summary: Gaz just loves you a lot, okay?

Authors Note: Why is it so hard to find domestic fics? I just want to be happy for once...

He tried.

…

What? He did!

He tried so, so hard.

But seeing you like this? He couldn’t help it. The opportunity was too good to pass up.

For the last 10 minutes, he’s stood there, goofy smile on his face, his lip almost raw from how hard he was biting it to keep the laugh from escaping. For the last 10 minutes, he’s stood there, watching as you glared your way through your nightly routine, too frustrated and upset to notice your joyful onlooker. For the last 10 minutes, Gaz has watched, laughed, and almost peed himself. For the last 10 minutes, Gaz somehow became an even more lovestruck fool for you. Was there even a level above devoted? He wasn’t sure up until now. Now, he knew for sure there had to be. How else could he describe the thumping in his chest, the heat in his heart, and sparkles in his eyes.

First, it was your pants not coming down. Who in their right mind made jeans so horrible to get in and out of one handed?! You nearly threw yourself on the floor to bicycle kick your way out, and you would have on any other day. Had it not been for the plaster reminder on your arm to be more careful, you would have easily used the tactical skills you picked up from living with a trained soldier (Gaz didn’t have the heart to tell you that the duck and roll he showed you was, in fact, a move he made up to prank you and not the special ops technique that got him out of a Russian base and save a whole town). Then, it was your shirt not cooperating and catching on every part of your body while coming off (see, once again, the above reason for not launching yourself at anything with a hook). Gaz nearly lost it watching you slam it so hard onto the floor in victory, watching as it bounced a little in retaliation.

Your pajama shirt was no easy feat to get on either, but since it was technically Gaz’s, the extra material meant easy access to neck and arm holes. You nearly cheered at getting your pajama shorts on, looking so cute that Gaz was going to make sure you kept the cute shirt ducktail you accidently made in the back from pulling them up too high over his shirt.

For the last 10 minutes, the sight was funny to the point of a bathroom disaster. Now though? The sight was a little pathetic.

The way the medics had to cast your arm causes it to rest at an awkward 90 degree bend, meaning most of your mobility was hindered. Naturally, your dominant hand was attached to the broken bone, so for the next couple weeks you’d have to get used to mastering the robot in order to do anything useful. Most of your daily functions were easy to switch to your other hand or alter  in some way, but the one thing you’ve yet to master is washing your face. The too tall bottle, the stupid pump, the idiotic lathering and cleansing and frothing, and the dumb rinsing were pretty much impossible without bringing you to tears. Broken arm be damned, you were close to giving up all together and become a trash monster in order to never have the embarrassment of watching your face wash pathetically roll across the counter, dodging your hands, until it fell and disappeared under the sink.

Gaz made sure you saw the multitude of photos he took of you helplessly scrambling for it (you repaid him for his kindness with a pillow to the face).

But now, as Gaz watches you reach for the soap, hand slightly batting it back and forth, attempting to push the pump down only for it to spin uselessly in place, his wicked smile turns soft, his eyes filling with adoration as you grumble under your breath. He was only a second away from stepping towards you to help, taking just another moment to appreciate your sleepy figure, when you sighed heavily. Your shoulders slumped forward, lips pouting in the most kissable way, near defeat evident in your stance.

“Oh no!” you said suddenly, louder than even Gaz was ready for. “If only I had a helpful hero here to help me!”

Gaz quickly slammed his hand over his mouth, laughter barely contained. You tilted your head slightly, no doubt trying to have your voice carry into the kitchen where he was supposed to be unloading the grocery bags.

“I’m a helpless civilian in need of assistance!” A beat. “If only there was a musclely, sexy military man to help me.” Another beat. “It sure would be nice to have help from the best soldier in a special task force.” After another moment of silence, you sighed again. “If only there was a sexy man I could give head to-“

“If you shout any louder the whole neighborhood will know how you got that broken arm.” You screamed, nearly jumping out of your skin, body jostling against the sink. Inevitably, the shock sent your face wash sideways, toppling uselessly onto the floor. The rattle of the bottle and the sink was only matched by the wobble of your lips, a shock darting through your hurt arm. The whimper of pain was enough for Gaz to drop his mischievous smile instantly. He hurried forward to cradle your arm gently, the biggest puppy dog eyes searching your face for an indication of pain level.

“Gaaaaaaz-“ you whined, slumping your body into his arms, carefully cradling your arm to your body. Gaz’s eyes switched between your watery eyes and your injury, body nearly surrounding yours in a protective manner. A ping of guilt wracked his heart.

“I know, I’m sorry! I didn’t think you’d hit your-“

Your eyes narrowed into a glare. “You knocked my bottle onto the floor, you dweeb!”

Gaz’s dropped jaw barely managed, “That’s what you're upset about!?”

Your lips curled into a pout, still clutching your arm against your body, the pain fading with every passing second. Despite his shock, you watched as his eyes softened the more he gazed down at you in his arms.

“How long have you been standing there? Jerk.” With your uninjured hand, you gently smacked his chest in protest, though there wasn’t any real force behind it. Gaz, reassured you weren’t really hurt, laughed lightly, leaning down to place a gentle kiss against your lips, which you quickly returned. Despite being upset with him, you could never deny his kisses.

He also took the opportunity to lean into you just a bit, his hand batting at your ducktail softly.

“Long enough to enjoy the show.” With practiced agility, he leaned down, kissing your thigh (all teeth, of course) before scooping the face wash up in one smooth motion, returning it to its rightful spot on the sinks ledge. You huffed at his wiggling eyebrows. “Now, I heard there was compensation promised for help from a sexy military man?”

“I don’t know if I want to give it to you now, knowing you watched me struggle this whole time without offering help.” Gaz laughed again, brushing his lips against yours once more. Gently, he pushed your hips against the sink, trapping you between it and his sturdy body. His heat enveloped you in its comforting embrace, though you did have to move your arm at a slightly strange angle in order for your chests to push together just like you both liked. Stupid, stupid cast.

He kissed you gently once, twice, then thrice before pulling far enough away to kiss your forehead.

In his gentle atmosphere, Gaz wanted to kiss every part of you, everything that he loved personified. Press your lips together until you’re breathless. Pull you into bed, holding you close just like he did after every long day, shedding off his duties mentally one by one until he was able to do nothing but lay there and smell your soothing scent, listen to your breathing as it got slower and slower, press kisses onto your nearest body part until he, too, drifted off to sleep.

But, he knew, none of that could happen until your face was nice and clean, that very soothing scent wafting off of the freshly washed skin. He kissed your lips once more, before cupping your face between his hands, eyes meeting.

“Your sexy hero is here to save you, darling. I’ve got you.”

Gently, he grabbed the nearby washcloth, wetting it behind you before lifting it to your face. His caresses were slow and feather soft, letting the water guide along your features just enough to make your face wash work its magic. Without breaking eye contact, he exchanged the washcloth for your soap, bubbling it in between his fingers before rubbing it across your cheeks. His touches were more like a massage than a lather, but you couldn’t complain, not when he was sneaking kisses every couple seconds, lulling you into near enough sleep as you could get while standing. Your eyes were closed, but his were wide open, tracing every feature with his loving gaze. Once he was satisfied with the lather, he soaked and rung out the washcloth once more before bringing it to your face. It only took a few swipes to get the majority of the bubbles, but Gaz continued for several long moments, enjoying the blissed out look on your face more than he could express. He swiped gently over your lips before sealing them once again with his, pressing them there to feel you close to him once more.

What a dangerous wish, he thought, to never want this moment to end.

The next morning, you were pleasantly surprised to find a brand new soap dispenser on the sinks edge, short and square, with a red ribbon tied around it.

masterlist  l  mw masterlist

[deunmiu-dessie]

price, after seeing you with kids, vows to himself that he'll get you pregnant.

  "i'm so happy you guys could make it!"

    john watches fondly as you smile. it's wide and genuine, the action making your nose scrunch up; your head tilting to the side to mimic the woman's excitement─ and john can hardly take his gaze off of you. your eyes glimmer at the sight of your heavily pregnant best friend and the woman watches with a soft smile as the two of you make your way up their driveway. 

 your body is tucked away underneath john's arm, the usual warmth of your perfume; a sweet and spicy blend of saffron and sugared vanilla, has him unable to keep his hands off of you and he makes it obvious with the way his thumb rubs back and forth over your bare shoulder. and you're just as guilty as he is, with the way your hand is nestled snuggly in the back pocket of his jeans, the other stationed right atop his hand that rests affectionately on your shoulder. 

when the two of you can make it to gatherings in your neighborhood, there's bound to be talk and swooning about you and john the next day. most women were envious that even after being together for years, it seemed like the two of you were still in your honeymoon phase.

 "jas! babe, what are you doing up?" your voice is a teasing lilt as you shimmy your way out from under john's arm, looking back at him briefly to flash him a pleased smile. however, it's different from the one you sent jasmine earlier, it's softer, intimate, and familiar and it warms his belly better than bourbon ever could; his eyes soften and he smiles back, the crow's feet around his eyes deepening. 

despite john only having a few days off until his next mission, which he had wanted to spend with you, cuddled up next to the fireplace and watching movies, or perhaps cooking and baking with each other, all lovey-dovey and tête-à-tête─ you had instead asked if he could spare a day and go to a cookout hosted by a mutual friend. 

of course, he couldn't say no to you. not when you looked so reluctant to ask in the first place, with your eyebrows furrowed and a small frown marring your lips─ the same lips he had languidly kissed until it flipped right side up, with gentle murmurs of reassurance. besides, john didn't mind jasmine's husband. tom was a retired colonel of the army and they had hit it off quite quickly, especially given john's position. 

  reluctantly, john's eyes drift away from where you stand hugging jasmine, immediately spotting tom who is situated with a few other men at the grill. sucking in a breath, john made his way over to them, a smile splitting his cheeks when tom notices him, his tongs clanging against the metal. "well i'll be damned, if it isn't john, fucking, price." 

 the two men join hands briefly, "tommy, i've been gone a few months and she's already pregnant again." john chuckles softly at tom's sheepish look, the man's cheeks pinkening. "m'surprised y'r balls haven' shriveled up yet." john finishes, dropping into a squat to pluck a lone water nestled amongst the beers. “well, what can i say? she’s all over me!” tom, through his boisterous laughter at his own joke, notices the bottle and sends john a smirk, "you gone in a few days?"

 john grunts, hoping to save himself from the conversation, talk of work right now would only annoy him. tom clasps him on the shoulder firmly and sends him a mocking grin, perhaps this is why john liked tom, banter flowed naturally between the two of them. john was reminded of gaz time and time again when holding a conversation with the retired colonel. "it's as i said before. maybe it's time for you to settle down, you're not getting any younger."

  john grunts at that one too, eyes scanning the bustling cook-out to look for your comforting presence. he immediately finds you amongst your group of friends, a newborn babe nestled in the crook of your arms delicately and other children playing a simple version of tag around your legs. you're gazing down at the baby with envious adoration, eyes sparkling with awe and something akin to being maternal and it knocks the breath from his throat, his heart swelling within his chest at the sight of you. 

   and for a moment, he pictures that you're holding his child in your arms and that those are his kids circling your legs. and it's when your eyes somehow find his, your smile shy and your eyes almost pleading, that he swears to himself that he'll get you pregnant. and an ache to see your belly swollen with his child starts in his chest before traveling straight to his cock. tom chuckles, it's a knowing and judgment-free look. "i guess your mind is made up, huh captain?"

connected with this post!

[saintttajx]

sweetest con

lN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, WITH A cigarette in hand while a glass of whiskey on the other, the burning flame under the chimney entertained the freshly arrived soldier waiting for his wife.

The entrance croaked open summoning a beautiful lady who seemed to be hazy from her previous in took of alcohol. There was a frustrated frown on her face as she tries her best to take off her heels while closing the door.

"Where have you been, wife?" The husband's familiar voice stole her attention. Once she looked up and realized it was her husband who she has been dying to see for weeks, a smile instantly crept up on her cherry tinted lips.

"Oh my, you're home!" She couldn't help but drop everything and run into his arms. Squealing in excitement of feeling him in her arms again.

This happens every single time he comes home. He should be used to it by now. But he isn't. That wave of warmth inside him still activates whenever she does this. So eager to hold him, see him, smiling so brightly as if he was her world, her home, her salvatore.

He couldn't help but close his eyes as their body met. Their body exchanging heat was a comfort they've always missed. As she lock his neck around her arms, her hands crawling their way onto his hair on its own, his arms finding her back to pull her close.

"I missed you."

She smiled and marked a warm kiss on his cheek. "I missed you more, Si."

Simon always bring his cold and stoic stance from work, but he built a specific one for the cause of her gone missing when he arrived. But she was a devil woman that with just one kiss, one pet name, one word, his walls were gone melting.

Her magic curled a tiny smile on his rosy lips. Her shiny eyes staring back at him burning his guard down little by little. He tucked a string of hazel hair behind her ear. Before turning his gaze on the shoes she left on the ground.

"Someone's been out, hm?"

She exhaled as she settled in his lap and lean on his chest. "Yeah, Nat and I were out for a bit." She looked up to meet his eyes through her lashes.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here when you got home." He could truly see that she was sorry through her voice and expression. Her lips were slightly turning into a pout and her eyes were gleaming from the fire. She was precious to look at.

Before he could answer, she cut him off by placing a kiss on his lips, his eyes closing and deeply exhaling just as her fingers run through his hair. He was supposed to be cold but he was a sucker for her touch and affection.

As they pulled in synch, he tried to focus. But her intoxicating scent wasn't helping. He tried to circle back on his concern. He was a soldier damn it. Luckily, when her scent came laced with alcohol, he succeeded.

"Where have you been, luv?"

"Nat brought us in a club." She studied his face, from his short hair, dark brows, little scars that she covers with kisses, to his nose and sexy lips. She avoided his eyes. He was staring at her as if they were in an interrogation.

"Got drunk clubbing, hm?" She helped him put his bourbon aside before leaning back on his warm hard chest. Wrapping his free arm around her waist on her own to play with his fingers, another way of avoiding his intimidating gaze.

"Just a little." She murmured. His brows were slightly meeting as he watch her curl in his lap, her adorableness tugging a tiny smile on his lips.

"Did someone tried to flirt with my beautiful princess?" He drew a blush on her cheeks and an adorable scowl.

"No. Even if there was, I wouldn't let them." There was a hint of smug in her delivery that made him chuckle.

"Wouldn't let them, huh?" He leaned down on her and caressed the side of her face to make her meet his eyes.

"And if I try to flirt with you?" Their close proximity was making her heart beat fast. She became nervous. As if they weren't married for years.

"My clothes will disappear." She said with pure honesty that it made him grin and scoff a laugh.

He smirked and pulled her closer, his big hands brushing up and down her back, pulling her to leave a kiss on her forehead. "I love you." She mumbled, eyes shut from his rare display of affection.

"Love' you so fuckin' much." He mumbled, lids down while inhaling her scent that only sensed like home. She was the only thing that could calm his whole system down. What ever it is that he did to deserve her must've been something divine.

She has never felt safer anywhere else than in his arms. His was the only cage she was more than willing to be chained forever.

They stayed glued together on the couch for a while. Listening to the rustling flame, finishing his cigarette while she fought her heavy lids putting her down to sleep. It was a peace Simon deserved after a draining mission. The dancing flame under the bricks was the only entertainment around, her head tucked under his chin made her hair close to his face filling his nose with the scent of her shampoo, while she inhaled his smell, the manly scent she misses so much.

They later on decided to prepare for bed, both too tired to eat. Their tangled picture on the couch previously was recreated on their bed. "How was the mission?" She mumbled while watching his chest rise and fall.

"Draining." He replied, the vibration of his chest and his steady heart beat making her feel secured.

"You must be tired." She brushed her palm on his chest. His muscles slowly relaxing as he lets her. Letting her brush the tension and stress from work away.

He sighed. "Just glad to be home with you."

"Me too. It's always lonely without you here."

"I know." He tucks away her hair softly, touching her carefully as if she was delicately fragile.

"I hate leaving you. Always." A sketch of furrowed brows was on his face as he recall every moment of receiving a call for deployment, when he leaves while she's peacefully asleep, or when she tries her best to hold back tears when she deliver him away to the door.

"I hate that you leave me either." She chuckles her pain away.

He carries her up to sit her on his lap. "I don't like you being alone here either." He explains as he tucks more hair away, watching her bare face stare back at him. "Hate it knowing you're all by yourself in this empty house. Makes me fuckin' worried."

"Hmm.. I know. It always worry me, thinking if you'll ever even come back." She confessed, looking down on her fingers. Then looking back up to meet his brown eyes when courage arrived.

"Thank you for always coming back home to me, Simon." Her eyes fluttered, looking right into his eyes as she appreciates him. He was so fucking confuse how he managed to have a woman like her marry him. Meaning those words to her heart as if he deserved someone to worry and wait for him to come back, not to die in the battlefield of war.

"I'll never stop coming back to you, for as long as I can. You're my whole world, love. You don't know how much I'm willing to do anything for you."

"I love you so much." He whispered to her as he closed the gap between their faces. Capturing her lips and letting them linger against each other before slowly pulling away. "I love you more."

"Impossible." He says as he lay them down, letting her nuzzle into his embrace like a kitten under the sheets.

He pulls her even closer, not wanting to leave any spaces between their bodies before settling down and lean on her shoulders to rain them with soft kisses. She felt so safe yet so fragile against him. His warmth replacing the cold bed she forces herself to sleep on before now drives her to slumber easier than blinking.

[ripcupid]

୨୧ Thinking about Price’s last day home before deployment

Came to me while watching this is us (just started)

Laying in bed with him, staring up at the ceiling as he lightly sleeps next to you— a symptom of his job. Your mind races with thoughts like

What if he gets hurts

Or loses a member

And the most nagging thought

What if he doesn’t come back home

You hate to have these thought, trusting John to do everything to make sure he always comes home to you unharmed. Looking over at him, watching as his chest rises and falls, tears blurring your vision at the thought that this might be the last time. You reach out for his hand that rests on his stomach, pulling it to your lips. Your lips press against the cold metal on his ring finger as he stirs awake. “John,” you call softly, noticing his eyes opening.

“Love?” He grumbles, looking over at you, “why are you still up?” Price lays on his side, staring at the side of your face.

“Yeah, um I’m just thinking about…,” you trail off, still staring at the ceiling as Price’s arm drapes over you, lightly stroking your blanket covered waist. His hand moves up to your cheek when he notice your hesitation, turning you to face him.

“About what, love?” He whispers, stroking your cheek as he stares down at you.

“What if you get hurt or like you don’t come home,” your teary eyes meet his, whispering the last part, afraid of what you really mean.

“Oh, honey,” he coos, grabbing your chin to kiss your lips gently, “I don’t want you worrying about me, I’ll be fine.”

“I know but what if it’s different this time?” Price realizes just how serious and troubling this is for you and pulls you to his chest, his arms wrap around you protectively.

He strokes your back, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “Don’t I always come back to you?” You nod, burying your face in his shirt and closing your eyes. He chuckles, “Every time, love. I can’t just leave you alone, who else would handle that attitude of yours, hm?”

You chuckle, wiping the tears brim your eyes. “Nobody,” you reply through giggles.

“Right, so don’t worry about me, I’ll always come back to you.”

[storeecbrcod]

In light of recent events (watch your back, Activision), I’d like to share a domestic Ghoap thought, or add to an existing one.

Soap and Ghost, living together. Whether it’s on leave, or after their time in the military, whatever. Usually, they take turns cooking; Soap is a good cook, whipping up delicious and hearty meals like his hands were guided by God himself (even if it looked closer to a failing juggling act despite the results, much to Ghost’s amusement). Ghost likes cooking, even if his food isn’t as good as Soap’s, because he likes doing things for Soap to help him. He likes taking some pressure off of his partner if he’s had a bad or tiring day (acts of service, amiright?).

Soap loves cooking. It occupies his mind, it’s something he’s got a natural knack for, and the end result is always worth the effort. While he’s never been one for instructions, he’s always shadowed his mam in the kitchen, which has compounded over the years despite not really having a space to cook since he was 18 unless he was on leave. All in all, it’s cathartic and helps him overcome his pestering perfectionism with small accidents that have no effect on the heavenly result, most of the time.

One day, Johnny tried baking. Unlike cooking, it’s not quite as smooth. Whether it’s baking paper that won’t rip right and won’t sit in the tray, or accidentally messing up the measurements, or having to go out to the store again because he forgot something, or trying his hardest to stir every little lump out of the batter, it just isn’t working right. He’s frustrated, struggling to understand why nothing was working as the recipe says it should, and he’s about ready to throw the batch of still lumpy batter at the wall.

Ghost, having been out on some errands, walks into the apartment to complete silence. There was always some sort of noise; music, tv, Soap’s own humming or playful singing or laughter. Now, though, it was eerily quiet, and Ghost couldn’t help but revert to creeping around silently, trying to find Soap.

When he enters the kitchen, he sees a scene. Flour spilled onto the counter and ground, a batter-covered spatula lying on the counter surrounded by opened containers of ingredients, and a metal bowl of batter sitting amongst it all, alone. As Ghost rounded the island, he found Soap sitting on the ground, legs out in front of him and his back against the corner of the cabinets.

If it wasn’t for the pure defeat on Soap’s face, Ghost would have laughed. Instead, he sighed, his concern melting to calm. He placed his wallet, keys, and handful of mail on an empty space of counter, then sat next to Soap on the floor in silence for a few minutes. He could practically feel the frustration rolling off of the other man, Soap’s jaw clenching and unclenching in silent irritation.

“What do you call a baker holding sugar in both his hands?”

Silence.

“Ambidextrous.”

A reluctant snicker later, Soap’s burying his face against Ghost’s shoulder, groaning.

“Ye’r fuckin’ insufferable, Lt.”

“And you’re a useless baker.”

“Aye.”

“C’mon, I’ll help.”

Ghost helps Soap finish up, fixing the batter as much as he could and setting it in the baking tray. They cleaned up as it baked, though somehow Ghost ended up with a face full of flour, and Soap ended up with his shit-eating grin being wiped off his face in surprise when a white handprint ended up on his ass with an accompanying chuckle.

When the offending brownies were finally done, they tried them.

“Steamin’ Jesus, these are incredible.”

“Not bad.”

“What d’ye mean? They’re beautiful, Simon!”

“Needed salt. And batter was over beaten, but yeah. Not bad.”

For Soap, it was yet another surprising thing he’s learnt about Simon in his time of knowing him. He was a damn good baker, a talent he’ll be looking to take advantage of in the future.

For Ghost, it was the first time in a long time where the memories of his childhood weren’t exclusively bad. Right now, with Johnny, he could almost feel his mother’s hands on his shoulders, a whispered “Good job, baby,” breathed against his ear like she used to in their own kitchen, with their own batch of brownies.

[constantcrisis19]

Domestic Bliss

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN S/O

AN: I was thinking about starting a new series of one shots about a reader who is married Ghost so, while this will be the first story I post, it won't necessarily be the first in the timeline. I promise that it'll all make more sense when write enough fics to necessitate making a masterlist.

Word Count: 2,449

Main Page

You watched with a wide grin as Gaz nearly snorted coffee out of his nose at Soap’s recount of his earlier demonstration at the demolitions range, a truly impressive display that you just so happened to be present for, the resulting blast so big and so loud that you had stopped in your tracks in order to stare wide eyed at the bright flashes of light and dark plumes of smoke along with the rest of the recruits.

You still vividly remembered the truly manic expression on Soap's face as he’d watched the chain reaction go off, the crazy Scot standing as close to the resulting explosions as he could without injuring himself while everyone else with a modicum of self-preservation stayed further back.

You noticed a familiar figure prowl into the canteen and eagerly waved to Ghost, inviting the masked man to join you. Ghost didn’t even pause his stride, instead he simply redirected his course to begin walking towards the table that you, Gaz and Soap were currently occupying.

"Hey, babe." You greeted Ghost as you absentmindedly fiddled with the wedding ring that you kept on a silver chain around your neck. You’d been married to Ghost for six years now though had known the man since you were both stupid kids.

Unfortunately, you had moved away when you hit high school and the two of you had ended up losing touch with each other over the years, so it had been a pleasant surprise when you met again in the SAS when he was still a Sergeant, the two of you often being partnered with each other on ops since you worked well together.

The two of you hit it off one you got past the awkward pining stage of your relationship and then it wasn't long before you were getting hitched, the wedding taking place a few months before Simon went to Mexico in order to take down the Zaragoza cartel with that slimy fuck Vernon and came back... different.

Quieter. More paranoid. Broken.

As usual, Ghost’s only response was a brief dull stare and a sharp nod in your direction, though you never took his antisocial tendencies to heart. He sat down on the empty seat next to you, taking the mug of coffee that you slid over to him, and though Ghost was more fond of tea than coffee, he never turned down your cup when you offered it.

“Soap was just telling Gaz about his demonstration earlier.” You clued him into the conversation as he lifted his mask up just enough to uncover the lower portion of his face, lifting the mug to his lips in order to take a swig of the steaming contents, his resulting slight grimace at the taste forcing you to turn your head away in order to hide a smile.

“Aye, Lt. Yew shuid ‘ave been there, it was glorious.” Soap sighed whimsically, you and Gaz sharing an amused look at Soap’s usual antics since he never failed to either wax poetically or confess his undying love for bombs and explosives and such at least twice a day.

"Not interested." He dismissed bluntly, his expression flat, but despite his curt tone it was fairly obvious to you and anyone who knew Ghost that he wasn’t intentionally being rude. His standoffish behavior was mostly because he was emotionally stunted, which meant that he typically defaulted to being curt when he was actually just too tired or wound up to deal with any high-energy conversations.

“That’s just because you don’t have a thrill-seeking bone in your body, old man.” Gaz quipped, finishing off his cup of coffee before grabbing one of the muffins out of the container you’d brought with you. You and Ghost had managed to get some time to yourselves yesterday so you went off base and spent the afternoon out in the nearby city and you had decided to get a treat for the other three members of the 141.

“Ha! Better be careful, Gaz, we wuidn’t want him tae break a hip tryin’ tae teach yer sorry arse a lesson.” Soap added with a shit-eating grin, Ghost pausing with his mug halfway between the table and his mouth, his dark eyes darting over to a cocky Soap, who confidently met his gaze.

“You’re both such fucking shitheads.” You said with a laugh, placing your elbow on the table and resting your chin on your palm as you watched the ensuing showdown with blatant interest. And, since popcorn wasn’t exactly available at the moment, a muffin would have to do.

With your free hand you reached out across the table and took a muffin for yourself, taking a bite of the fluffy bakery item and humming softly at the pleasant taste.

Ghost blankly stared at the two smug men sitting across from him and he was quiet for so long that you began to wonder if he was even going to respond. Though, after a few seconds had passed, he finally spoke. “We’ll settle the matter on the mat. 1300”

The smile was quickly wiped off Soap and Gaz’s faces at the prospect of fighting Ghost, even if it was strictly for training, because Ghost was known among the recruits for being ruthless even while sparring, people who dared to go up against him coming out with bruises and even the occasional dislocated bone.

“You both are so gonna eat your words.” You cackled, pulling your hand out from under your chin in order to grab one of Ghost’s hands from where they were wrapped around his mug of coffee, lacing your fingers together and resting your intertwined hands between the two of you on the tabletop.

Ghost turned his gaze away from Soap and Gaz and stared at you for a few moments before looking down at your joined hands and sighing, lightly rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. You bumped shoulders with him, basking in the heat that always seemed to come off the man in waves

“You’re clingy today.” Came Ghost's flat reply, his voice containing the slightest hint of amusement, and you playfully shoved at his shoulder with a half-hearted scowl, pulling your hand away and crossing your arms over your chest instead.

“You’re such an ungrateful ass sometimes. I’ll have you know that I’m a total catch, cuddly or not.” You declared petulantly, barely able to hold back your smile when you saw Soap snicker out of the corner of your eye.

Your shove as well as your bold statement was rewarded with a faint smile spreading across Ghost’s exposed lips, the man’s emotions being much more apparent without the mask there to hide his various reactions. Though that’s not to say that it was impossible for you to tell what he was thinking when he did wear the mask since Ghost had really expressive eyes and you had several years of experience reading every subtle shift of his gaze.

"You love it." Ghost said, his flat tone was broken by a small hint of sarcasm and humor, his voice growing slightly amused as he shifted slightly to face you with a dead-pan look.

"Unfortunately." You sighed dramatically before leaning over to plant a fond, chaste kiss against his fabric covered cheek.

"Love you too, sweetheart." He said with all the enthusiasm of a brick wall.

"Love you more, stud-muffin." You said with a quirk of your brow. It wasn't a secret that one of you and Ghost's favorite games was to see who could come up with the most ridiculous pet names for the other, and you both indulged in the game so often that even other members of the 141 would play along, the game never failing to escalate and get everybody involved all sorts of riled up.

"Love you most, dandelion." His words sounded teasingly sarcastic and dry as he called you 'sweetheart', and you could have sworn that you heard a tinge of humor in that flat tone of his as he spoke.

“Aren’t you two adorable.” Gaz sighed dramatically and you flicked him off, petulantly sticking your tongue out at the other man, Gaz giving you a wide grin in response.

"Everyone shut up and let me finish my breakfast in peace." Ghost grouched, grabbing a muffin from the container and pulling a piece of the top part off, one of his quirks being that he always eats the muffin top first before moving on to the rest.

"Anything for you, pookie." You ribbed at Ghost, hearing Soap give a bark of laughter from his seat across from the two of you at the dumb nickname. You raised a brow at Ghost when he gave you a judgemental side eye, daring him to try and one up you.

“How considerate of you, buttercup.” Ghost commented neutrally, his tone dry, and you tilted your head at him, raising a questioning brow at him.

"What’s with all the flowery pet names? I expected more creativity from you, doll face." You sighed with a mock-disappointed sigh and shake of your head.

"You aren't worth the effort, honey." He deadpanned. And, while Ghost may have seemed to be insulting you from an outside perspective, it was fairly obvious going by the mirthful glint in his eyes that he was just teasing.

"If I can force myself to laugh at your shitty dad jokes, then you could at least try to think up an imaginative name for me." You said with a smile, just so that Ghost would be able to tell that you were mostly joking.

“Believe it or not, I'm not trying to impress you. You're stuck with me either way." Ghost shrugged, Soap giving a low disbelieving whistle at the bold words as you rolled your eyes.

"I think that it's safe to say that we've officially left the honeymoon phase of our relationship then." You chuckled good-naturedly, placing a hand on Ghost's thigh and squeezing before just letting your hand rest there as a soothing weight since Ghost never seemed to mind your touch.

"We're way past that. We've been married for six years now and we know each other's quirks and ticks." Ghost paused for a few seconds, pulling off another bite of muffin before continuing on. "We know how to get under each other’s skin, but I still wouldn't have it any other way."

"Me neither, love bug." You smirk in thinly veiled amusement and triumph, and Ghost dropped his holier-than-thou attitude and rolled his eyes at the ridiculous nickname.

"You always know what to say to lighten the mood, honey-bun." Ghost drawled as he stripped the wrapper off his muffin in order to begin digging into the bottom half of the baked treat, his voice sounding equal parts sarcastic and genuine.

“Yew two are fuckin’ cracked, a true match made in hell.” Soap piped up as he started in on his third muffin, crumbs covering the majority of the table in front of him. And though some people found Soap’s messy eating habits disgusting, you actually thought his toddler-esque way of eating was somewhat endearing.

“You’re just mad cause you weren’t able to be Ghost’s best man at the wedding.” You replied with a cheeky grin, leaning across the table to flick Soap’s scarred eyebrow.

“I dinnae even know Lt yet! An’ it's not my fault tha’ yew impatient bastards cannae ‘ave waited a couple more years before gettin’ hitched.” Soap was quick to defend himself, abandoning his food in favor of gesticulating wildly as he complained.

“Fuck off, angel face.” You said good-naturedly, placing your palms flat on the table and leaning into Soap’s personal space, the man mirroring your movements.

“Never, ya wee feral bairn.” He shot back without missing a beat as he shifted even closer, slowly but steadily closing the distance between your faces.

“Teddy bear.” You happily continued your banter with a mischievous grin, pushing forward until your noses were practically brushing as you stared each other down.

“Both of you shut it.” Ghost interrupted your battle of wills, grabbing your forearm and gently pulling you back down into your seat, his hand sliding down your arm until he reached your hand before lacing your fingers together, squeezing in a wordless reprimand.

“So, how was the wedding? Seeing as we weren't there.” Gaz broke the companionable silence that had descended over the four of you, popping the last of his muffin into his mouth before washing it down with the last of his coffee.

“An’ who was Ghost's best man?” Soap tacked on almost as an afterthought as he leaned back in his seat as far as he could get away with without losing his balance and toppling over ass over teakettle.

“First of all, Price was the best man, which is only fair since he's the one who introduced us to each other.” Well, more like reintroduced, but you weren't about to get hung up on the schematics.

You brought your shoulder up into a nonchalant little shrug, absentmindedly tapping the fingers of your unoccupied hand on the tabletop aa you ignored Gaz and Soap's twin looks of surprise in favor of continuing. “And our wedding wasn’t anything over the top. It was just a small ceremony in a secluded church with a short guest list. We both agreed that we didn’t want to make a huge fuss.”

“And you were cool with a modest wedding? No extravagant flowers or decorations or cake?” Gaz asked, his brows furrowed and you could see where the confusion was coming from since the media made most people feel like the average wedding was supposed to be huge and expensive.

Though that being said, you wouldn’t necessarily have minded something lavish like that, you just didn’t really feel that all the fanfare was necessary for you and Simon. You were both well aware of how much you loved each other, so you mutually agreed that you didn’t need some big ceremony to prove your devotion to each other.

“As far as I’m concerned, all I needed was Simon.” You said, turning your gaze to Ghost and bringing your joined hands up to your mouth in order to plant an affectionate kiss onto the back of his hand.

Ghost stared at you for a short moment, looking a bit caught off guard, before he managed to pull himself together. He moved closer, leaning down and tilting his head in order to place his lips against yours in a soft kiss, letting the connection linger before pulling away just far enough to speak, his breaths fanning intimately across your lips.

“And I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that you’ll never want for anything else.”

[mymreaderlibrary]

I will forever love the idea of Natasha with a fiancé who is just so painfully average, he’s the most basic guy around with nothing really special going for him. But he adores her dearly and, when he’s not at his job at local general store, he spends his time as her house husband.

[funshinebf]

post trimax sketches idk. i still havent read trimax everything i know of it is from osmosis. for now

[keegansgf]

"spring cleaning"

pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x reader

word count: 1.2k

synopsis: spring cleaning inevitably leads to finding old memorabilia, this time, John found his old journal!

tags: domestic bliss, slight reverse comfort?, mostly fluff

A/N: I had this idea in my notes!! Though it's probably not canon to the timeline, I desperatley needed soaps journal to be mentioned in a fic somewhere soooo...

anyways, I'm back :3 (PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF SOMETHING GLITCHES I HAAATEEEEEE COPY AND PASTE FROM GRAMMARLY)

"This one's of our captain, Price."

"Price doesn't look like that now... does he?"

"No, but that's probably for the better. I won't say anything more about his beard then, for his sake. It looks better now, trust me."

You were sitting next to each other at the dining table with boxes of personal items and cleaning supplies on the floor. The smell of chemicals wafted through your tidied dining room, and afternoon sunlight flooded your windows. Every season, you and John clean your place together if he's back home with you, and fortunately, he's right next to you, flipping to another page in his old journal. He found it in one of the boxes full of old documents and notebooks. This one had more personal significance to him.

John's eyes sharpened at the page he was on. He sighed in annoyance before showing you the doodles of a pretty mean-looking german shepherd.

"This page... you already know I'm not a fan of dogs, but this was the day I found out. War is vicious as a whole, but the dogs just... I'll just say rabies treatment hurts like hell and leave it at that." Your eyebrows raised, and you looked up at him.

"Is that why you avoid our neighbors' dogs? They aren't even that large-" John immediately cut you off.

"Shhh. If we get a pet, it'll be a cat– and to be completely fair, he owns pretty big dogs."

"They're huskies, love. They're just fluffy and loud for the most part."

"They're practically the size of that man! You know what, let's stop."

The both of you laughed it off, and he continued skimming through page after page. Occasionally, you glanced at a few of the doodles he made about his surroundings or faces he met along the way. Some of the pages were more military-centered than others. If they were, you would take in a lick of the words and wouldn't bother trying to understand the rest– John's handwriting wasn't much of a help either. Of course, you didn't tell him that out of kindness, but you're sure he knows.

"I still find it odd that I didn't know you liked to draw– you're super good at it too!"

"Well, thank you, sweetheart."

"No, seriously, didn't you say you drew some of these in under ten minutes? Knowing that you quickly mapped out a room's dimensions, your technical skills are great." He laughed at your little compliments before speaking again.

"Y'know, I didn't really pick up art until the start of secondary school– It wasn't my passion– and still isn't– I probably dropped it when I was... 19, maybe? My boredom in all those safehouses got to me enough to resurface a few art skills when I finally had the time to pick up this journal." His eyes widened in shock as he skipped over about four pages quickly, but not fast enough for you to not catch what the paper was covered in. 

Blood. Lots of blood, with a few notes, maybe only a paragraph worth. John took a deep breath in and loudly exhaled. He hoped he didn't make you feel uncomfortable.

"Sorry... I didn't want you to see all that." He said, setting the journal down and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He pulled you in for a brief side hug for some consolation.

"No, it's fine, I understand. I couldn't imagine what happened to you back then."

John pursed his lips and looked at the table's surface, tapping his foot to think of a palatable explanation. He never liked telling brutal war stories to those who worried about him the most– you were in the top three of those people. However, it felt like this needed its story. He grabbed your hand to put it on his lap to soothe both of you before giving the page its context.

"Our mission went wrong, and a colleague saved us. I felt a lot of survivor's guilt at the time– probably because this wasn't the first time this guy helped us when we fucked up. Most of the team, including me, were roughed up pretty bad, hence the blood." John squeezed your hand under the table before trying to lighten the mood again.

 "It's remarkable I could pick up a pen during that, huh?" John tried to joke, but it came off a little flat. The energy in the room wasn't uncomfortable or tense– it was just unfortunate for your own reasons. Sad for you because your loved one was severely hurt, and tragic for John to expose these memories again. The silence was broken by your lover shuffling to face you.

"Alright," He started, "What matters is that I'm here now, right? I know you don't like when I brush these things off, but it's in the past now– and I'm home with you."

"You're right... I love you, but you know I worry about you. It's okay to talk to me about this stuff when you're comfortable. Bottling it up and putting a happy face around me probably doesn't help you much."

John has always been secretive about what's going on in his mind for your benefit, never his. It's impressive how he hasn't cracked yet– but if only he knew you're more than happy to talk to him about his troubles. John is big-hearted in nature, maybe too much for your liking. Someday, he'll accept that being a little selfish is okay, especially with you.

"I know, I know– we can work on it, I promise. I love you too much to have you worrying about me this much."

"Well, you should get used to it. Not a day goes by where you aren't on my mind somehow," You giggled, "Don't feel forced to talk about it, okay? Put yourself first sometimes."

"Sounds easier than it looks, I think." John said, sounding unsure of himself. He's always been the type of guy to feel unaccomplished if he couldn't do something right instantly. Mental health being a nonlinear journey didn't help his case. You picked up on his uncertainty from his tone.

"Hey, it's a learning process. We all drop out of old habits, and so will you, John. You're too hard on yourself sometimes." You got up to kiss his cheek and headed to the kitchen

"I think that's enough of the sad talk for now– I don't want to press you on the matter. How about we make lunch and continue cleaning? I don't think you've eaten since, what... 6am?" John smiled at you and got out of his seat. He picked up the box where he found his journal to put it back in storage. Then, he walked to where you were standing to give you a sweet kiss on your lips, wrapping his arms around your lower back.

"I'd love that. Thanks for letting me share all of that, by the way. I love you."

"Of course. I love you too."

John had a weight lifted off his shoulders after your chat. Maybe it took revision about the things he was troubled by to finally feel acceptance. He smiled to himself while thinking about that. You were always right in a way. That's why he loved you so much.

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Just curious ever thought about Ghost and jade having a kid together. You know after the events in cod or in another AU. I'd lose my mind if that happened it's just so adorable to think of.

Hi Anon! (＾3＾♪

Omg, you DO NOT know how my brain have already thought about Ghost meeting Jade's parents, Ghost meeting the kids from the orphanage where Jade volunteers in, despite Ghost's reluctance of being with KIDS, something he kind of despise. then seeing one child who had a simillar past life to Ghost ಥ╭╮ಥ then his heart softens and they get close overtime.

Then they get married, adopt the kid as their first child, then have another kid with Ghost's hair but Jade's eyes or Jade's hair with Ghost's eyes LIKE IT'S SO ADORABLE IM GONNA CRY

Though, I think Ghost wouldn't be a good dad at first, he's like a BAD dad. Not in that bad but in a way that he doesn't know how to DAD. His parents were definitely not a good one to him, and that also contributes in how he treats his kids, like he might get angry and shout at them, but with Jade's death stare, he'll apologize and try to be a better and sweet dad and took them out to buy ice cream and cook them their fav meal like DHSJHAHAJAJAHAKA

So... Yeah..... I have imagined all of them.... They're my dream material ( ◜‿◝ )♡

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Random Simon 'Ghost' Riley headcanons

sfw and nsfw

pairing: l.t. Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader (cod mw)

tags/tw: domestic stuff, afab!reader, size!kink, dirty talk

a/n: and of course a few HC's for Ghostie as well🤭

Simon 'Ghost' Riley MASTERLIST

sfw

-you know those mascots in full-body costumes? Yeah, Ghost hates those, gets on edge each time he sees one. He just gets this uncomfortable feeling in his body bc why go around masked like that?

-yes, he's aware of the irony

-your first kiss, technically, happened with his mask on,

-he wanted to kiss you but wasn't ready to commit fully, showing you his face meant a lot and he wasn't there, yet, so he just kinda directed your face from the TV to him by your chin and pressed his lips to yours despite the clothing concealing them

-you don't scare easily, even if he would disagree, but when having a shadow the size of him creeping up on you silently, which should be physically impossible for someone his size, it always makes you jump

-Ghost enjoys it for some reason, always repressing a smile when you gasp and clutch your chest with a hissed 'Simon!' despising that you never got used to it

-what you don't know is that he actively makes it harder for you, always staying in your blind spot when coming up behind you, silencing his step just like he does on stealth missions

-standard case of you falling first but he fell harder, it was a slow endeavour getting to know him, even slower when you started dating and he demanded that things wouldn't be rushed, but once he opened up he was practically already in love with you considering he rarely did open up to people

-he doesn't like gifts

-contrary to what people think, it's not because he doesn't know how to react, closer to the truth is that he's picky and doesn't like random things coming in surprises

-that's why Ghost always keeps a list of things he wants or is in interested in buying, one that you have unaltered access to just to keep track if you ever feel like gifting him something for a special occasion or if other people come to you when he just won't answer what he wishes for read Soap

-the ONLY casual gift he doesn't mind is when you get him a book, within reason of course bc yeah, he likes to read

nsfw below the cut

-on the topic of books, he doesn't read romantic stuff, if it isn't a book you push into his hands, then he knows what's between the pages: raunchy ass stuff you more often than now want him to act out, leaving you nervously giggling and then panting when he fully went into the role of fucking you silly

-another thing about Ghost that people think, but is wrong, is that he always so reserved

-this man can run his fucking mouth when he wants to

-perhaps others just don't notice, because he doesn't do it with them, but when you're by his side his face is for the most part ducked in level with your ear, making it his mission to rile you up enough so you're the one who grits out 'we're leaving '

-and the cocky bastard knows he will manage too, your resolve wearing down quick when he whispers stuff like 'pretty necklace, lovie, would rather it was my hand wrapped around your throat' and if he manages to catch you off-guard with that, mouth agape kinda surprised, he'll muse 'pretty little mouth like that’ll send a man wild'

-in the Riley household, there's one particular rule: if you buy any piece of clothing, either online or in-store, you're going to model it for Ghost

-doesn't matter what it is, he's gonna sit down in the living room waiting for you to come out for him to drink in your pretty self

-he always twirls a finger in a sign for you to spin around, not because he has any sense of fashion more than the normal man, he just likes to see all how your clothes flatter your figure

-and if it just so happens you only bought a pair of pretty panties or a flattering bra, his rule applies to those too, with the addition you'll come out in only those

-and so help you, but if your tits are on display or that pretty cunt of yours bared, he will not only make you spin but curl his finger, beckoning you towards him

-usually ends with you in his lap as he either plays and sucks at your nipples or you grind against his growing bulge before riding him

-guilty pleasure of his? your obsession with his arms and tattoos

-when you first started seeing each other, he always noticed how your eyes strayed to the ink peeking forth from his long-sleeved clothing, when you both got more comfortable and you saw him without a hoodie constantly, the way you drooled at his bulging biceps made it difficult adhering to his own rule of things going slow

-in fact, the first time you slept together was a consequence of your intrusive thoughts winning during a cuddling session

-you'd been positioned in-between his legs, running your hand over his arm curled around your waist, gaze following those delicious lines running along his forearm and then you just... dragged your tongue over his bicep, licking a long wet stripe on the muscle that tensed upon feeling your tongue

-there was a rumble against your back and a 'what the fuck was that?' making you glance up at Ghost with a sheepish smile with some explanation he didn't fucking buy for a second

-it ended with the both of you kneeling on Ghost's bed as he fucked you from behind, his arms circled around your neck, your nails digging into his forearm, a moaning mess as if you didn't know he killed men just like this but in a tighter chokehold

-so that's why he always wraps his tattooed arm around your front when you cuddle with him behind you, most time also seating himself on your right side, offering you the opportunity to trace the intricate lines decorating his skin

[deunmiu-dessie]

okay, you guys can't tell me that husband john price isn't a domestic man, a soft domestic man who absolutely adores the domestic life. he gives off that energy, like i can imagine him going home to his cute little wife, hugging and kissing on her and cooking with her in the kitchen. john who hosts cook-outs often on the patio (with a beer in hand) to invite over the team and a few of your girl friends. i mean, ya'll can't see price waking you up with a cup of coffee or tea?? kissing you on the temple when you wrap your arms around him from behind when he's cooking breakfast?! this man literally builds things for you to make cooking, cleaning, or anything else you do around the house, easier. john will literally stand outside the bathroom with a notepad in hand to write down the grocery list with you (🧍🏻‍♂️). john also loves wrapping you in his arms and swaying with you when you play music. john will always pull you onto his lap when the two of you sit on the porch to watch the rain. he's so soft for you and you guys! he watches you, it's an intense, love-filled gaze. he notices everything about you. this man doesn't know what he'd do without you, probably be lost tbh.

connected with this post!

[reasonsforhope]

"Heat stored underground in caverns can be set aside in Finland’s summer months to be re-used during frigid winters thanks to a state-of-the-art ‘seasonal energy’ storage facility.

Slated for construction this summer near Helsinki, it will be the largest in the world by all standards and contain enough thermal energy to heat a medium-sized city all winter.

Thermal exchange heating systems, like those built underground, or domestic heat pumps, are seen as the most effective way available of reducing the climate-impact of home heating and cooling.

Their function relies on natural forces or energy recycling to cool down or heat up water and then using it to radiate hot or cold energy into a dwelling.

In Vantaa, Finland’s fourth largest city neighboring the capital of Helsinki, the ambitious Varanto seasonal energy storage project plans to store cheap and environmental friendly waste heat from datacenters, cooling processes, and waste-to-energy assets in underground caverns where it can be used to heat buildings via the district heating network whenever it is needed.

In Finland and other Nordic countries, the heat consumption varies significantly between seasons. Heat consumption in the summertime is only about one-tenth of the peak load consumption during the cold winter months.

Varanto will utilize underground caverns equal in space to two Maddison Square Gardens—over a million cubic meters—filled with water heated by this waste heat and pressure that will allow the water to reach temperatures of up to 300 degrees Fahrenheit without the water boiling or evaporating.

“The world is undergoing a huge energy transition. Wind and solar power have become vital technologies in the transition from fossil fuels to clean energy,” says Vantaa Energy CEO Jukka Toivonen.

“The biggest challenge of the energy transition so far has been the inability to store these intermittent forms of energy for later use. Unfortunately, small-scale storage solutions, such as batteries or accumulators, are not sufficient; large, industrial-scale storage solutions are needed. Varanto is an excellent example of this, and we are happy to set an example for the rest of the world.” ...

“Two 60-MW electric boilers will be built in conjunction with Varanto,” adds Toivonen. “These boilers will be used to produce heat from renewable electricity when electricity is abundant and cheap. Our heat-producing system will work like a hybrid car: alternating between electricity and other forms of production, depending on what is most advantageous and efficient at the time.”

... Construction of the storage facility’s entrance is expected to start in summer 2024, while it could be operational as early as 2028."

-via Good News Network, April 12, 2024. Video via VantaanEnergia, March 10, 2024

[furiosophie]

“Ghost?” Soap asks as he pulls open the door, knife still in hand, baby still wailing. “What are ye doin’ here?”

“What am I doing here?” Ghost throws back at him, brows creased and eyes downright murderous, the kind of look that back at base would mean Soap is about to run laps until he pukes. “You just disappeared for a bloody week, Johnny! Didn’t even tell Price where you were going, aren’t answering your fuckin’ phone, what the hell do you think I’m doing here?”

“Right,” Soap says because yes right, he has a vague memory of Ghost texting him, but he also doesn't really have a clue where his phone is right now and he definitely wasn’t aware it’s been a week until he just mentioned it. For a moment Ghost looks like he’s going to take him by the shoulders and shake, and then his eyes land on Joey, and he frowns harder as if he only just noticed that Soap is holding a screaming child.

“You knock someone up, Johnny?” he asks and it sounds oddly offended but mostly like he’s taking the piss, so Soap is about to tell him to fuck off when there’s a loud crash from the bathroom, followed immediately by a high shriek. He whips around, trips over one of Cass’ tiny toddler-sized shoes, and nearly impales himself on the damn knife if it wasn’t for Ghost grabbing him by the arm to hold him steady.

“Give me the baby,” Ghost says like he says give me that gun when they’re hunched over in the dirt, bullets flying past their heads, so Soap does.

to you i can admit (that i'm too soft for all of it)

[read on ao3]

ship: john "soap" mactavish/simon "ghost" riley

words: 19 220, completed

tags: mw iii fix-it, set between danger close and trojan horse, kid fic, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, getting together, ghost fell first, soap fell harder, ghost is just some guy (tm), jk this still has 09 ghost backstory, fellas is it gay if the superior officer you've been lowkey flirting with for four years drops everything to help u raise ur sisters kids, this is both a hallmark movie and me processing grief so godspeed, canon- typical violence, mentions of past childhood abuse, not beta read we die like- qunshot

[constantcrisis19]

Vow Renewal

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN S/O

AN: I changed the titles around because it seemed to fit better this way, so this is a new story in the married series. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2,026

Main Page

You woke up to the sound of Ghost’s alarm, a groan of protest bubbling up and out of your mouth as you reluctantly rolled off of Ghost in order to blindly throw an arm out, smacking your hand against the buttons on the top of the alarm clock at random until the annoying beeping abruptly cut off. 

With the horrid noise silenced, you took the opportunity to unceremoniously face-plant into the nearest pillow with a low grumble of complaint since you had never been much of a morning person.

Ghost usually had far less trouble getting up at the ass crack of dawn, the bastard.

While you were more or less wallowing in your misery, Ghost’s bottomless brown eyes had half-opened when you’d moved away from him, the man looking just as exhausted and worn out as he had the day before. 

Although that was only to be expected considering that the two of you had finally arrived back at base late in the evening after a particularly stressful and dangerous mission that had taken a week and a half to successfully complete.

“I know, love.” Ghost mumbled groggily as he rolled over to look at you with creased brows, reaching out to gently but firmly lay a warm, calloused hand on your lower back as he shifted across the bed in order to lazily rub his cheek against your shoulder in a affectionate nuzzle that reminded you of something a cat would do.

“Ugh… I need no less than an entire pot of coffee before I even think about being functional today.” You grumbled, your voice muffled by the pillow that your face was buried in. It was a half-hearted attempt to smother yourself at best, but the notion of eternal slumber was starting to seem pretty damn tempting to your sleep-deprived self the longer that you laid there and stewed in your woe.

“Can’t understand you.” Ghost grunted, sounding a bit more awake but no less tired, and the gravel in his voice gave you the surge of motivation you needed to turn your head and squint at him from over your shoulder. Ghost was hovering above you like an omen of death, staring down at you with half-lidded eyes that were somehow still razor sharp despite how utterly fatigued he looked.

“Coffee.” You said simply because you figured that pretty much summed up your earlier statement, especially since your blunt bid for caffeine in the form of delicious coffee was punctuated by the fact that you could hardly keep your eyes open.

“Fine.” Ghost said with a heavy, long-suffering sigh that was normally only reserved for you and a certain energetic Scotsman before his hand slid off of your back and he sat up, stretching attractively with a low grunt of satisfaction when his spine cracked and popped in several places. 

He looked horribly stiff and achy, but he still threw the covers back in preparation to leave the bed since you had made the mistake of offhandedly mentioning that you could use a cup of coffee to help you find the energy to drag yourself into a modicum of order.

The fact of the matter was, in Ghost’s fractured mind, your needs and wants would always come before his own because his first priority in any and all given situations the two of you might find yourselves in was to make sure you were safe and that you wanted for nothing. Which was not exactly a stellar example of a healthy mindset, but you were working on teaching Ghost that he was allowed to let you take care of him too, which was an ongoing battle.

“Simon.” You called, your hand sliding over the bed to catch his wrist before he could get up, the man obediently pausing even though his thighs were tensed in an aborted attempt to stand and holding that position had to be hell on his sore muscles. He stiffly turned to look at you, his brows furrowed in a wordless question as his gaze searched your face.

“Don’t go.” You said quietly as you gently tugged on him, silently beckoning him closer, and Ghost seemed to soften at your plea for him to stay. He went along with your guiding touch easily, twisting around and dropping onto all fours in order to prowl over to you like some great beast. 

Ghost even laid down on his back without resistance when you directed him to do so, the man wrapping one of his arms around you and running his thumb across your shoulder absentmindedly after you bonelessly sprawled out on top of him.

“Better?” Ghost asked dryly, although there was an undeniable undercurrent of warmth in his otherwise bland tone.

“Yeah.” You mumbled as your eyes fluttered shut, tucking your face into the crook of his neck to breathe him in. His familiar and soothing scent of gunpowder, cardamom, strong English breakfast tea, and tobacco made you melt into him, as if you and Ghost could somehow fuse into a singular entity instead of remaining two halves of a whole, forever cursed to walk in separate bodies.

“You know, you make a great mattress.” You mused with the beginnings of a smile curling onto your lips, adjusting your head so you could prop your chin up on Ghost’s chest. “But you’re an even better pillow with these glorious man-titties of yours providing all this cushioning.” You snorted, planting a kiss that was equal parts playful and teasing in the valley between his pecs with a wolfish grin.

“You’re a fuckin’ slag.” Ghost muttered without any heat, the lackluster attempt to insult you completely ruined when the corner of his scarred lips quirked into a hint of a smile for a split second before his expression smoothed back into his typical stoic detachment.

“Don't try anything, I'm not in the mood.” Ghost added in a decidedly disinterested tone, though his hand moved from your shoulder to your back in order to start running his palm up and down the length of your spine in a repetitive motion that was so tender that you swore that your heart actually skipped a beat.

"You better make it up to me later then, seeing as I'm exercising self-control and all.” You said slyly as you braced your hands against the bed on either side of his torso, leaning forward to kiss Ghost with tongue. 

The wet and messy kiss drew a low sound of pleasure out of him as he responded by matching your enthusiasm and passion, his own tongue twisting and pushing against yours in a half-hearted battle for dominance.

And, when Ghost’s lips finally broke away from yours, his breathing was heavier. Although, he didn’t go all that far from you considering that your noses were still touching. His hooded gaze darted from your spit-slick mouth to your eyes a few times before he surged up to kiss you again like he just couldn’t help himself, though this particular snog came across as far less lewd and more worshipful.

"Maybe I will, maybe I won't." Ghost murmured with a barely there smirk when he eventually separated his mouth from yours for a second time, and it took you an embarrassingly long moment for your scrambled brain to make the connection between what he had just said to your earlier comment about getting intimate.

“You’re stone cold, Simon.” You lamented dramatically, flopping back down onto his chest with a huff. Ghost grunted when you landed, probably knocking the wind out of him with the sudden and unexpected addition of your full weight dropping onto him without warning. “Worst husband ever. I want a refund.” You muttered as you tucked your face back into the crook of his neck, mostly to hide your smile because you were trying to be miffed about his smug reply to your blatant flirting.

“Good luck returning me when there’s no receipt, love.” Ghost deadpanned, though there was a thread of amusement in his tone.

“My ring is my receipt.” You retorted without missing a beat, tilting your head to the side in order to brave a peek at him, fighting a smile when you witnessed the moment that his jaw clenched in a telling manner. You didn’t even have to see his face to know that he wasn’t happy about your casual remark.

“I won’t be responsible for what happens if you ever try to give that ring back to me.” Ghost’s voice was a low, guttural rumble that reverberated through his chest and directly into your body seeing as you were all but plastered to his front. 

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end in an instinctive response to the threatening sound, though you weren’t actually all that intimidated despite what your hindbrain had to say about hearing such a menacing sound so close to your person.

“Oh, how ominous.” You hummed, amused despite yourself because Ghost was such a possessive guard dog, circling you with raised hackles as he gnashed his teeth at anyone who showed so much as a modicum of sexual or romantic interest in you. “Reminds me of when you hacked a terrorist's limbs off because she took your ring and threatened to melt it down before pouring the molten metal down your throat.”

“No one touches my things.” Ghost said darkly, and the protective way that his hand traveled up your back in order to cup the nape of your neck while his other arm curled tightly around your waist indicated that he wasn’t just referring to his ring.

“Like a dog with a bone.” You chuckled with a hopelessly fond smile, trailing your knuckles over his thigh to soothe him.

“More than a dog, love.” Ghost spoke in a severe voice that would make you uneasy had it been anyone else using such an unsettling tone in your vicinity. “I’m a beast hiding in the shadows, waiting to tear apart anything that might threaten you. I’m the darkness to your light, the sentinel that watches your back, the strength that holds you up when you buckle. I’m a shapeshifter, I become whatever you need me to be.”

It was probably the most you had heard him say in one go for as long as you had known him, he was a man of few words after all. He only spoke when there was something constructive or important that needed to be said, when he felt that a devil’s advocate was needed.

But what he had just said to you was nothing but a blatant declaration of his love, of his unwavering devotion.

"Fucking hell, Simon. If I hadn't already married you, I'd get down on one knee right now." You said breathlessly, rearing up onto your arms in order to stare down at Ghost with wide eyes, one of your hands raising up off the bed to gently cup his cheek. You took pleasure in the way that Ghost’s unfairly blond lashes fluttered as he leaned into your touch like a man starved, openly basking in your warmth.

"Be my beast, be my darkness, be my sentinel, be my strength. But let me be the only one who can bring you to heel, let me be the light you need when the darkness you lurk in threatens to swallow you, let me be the voice that tells your demons to back the fuck off before I declare war. Let me be your safe place." You whispered, soft and reverent.

“Till death do us part.” Ghost stated with a steadfast conviction, spoken with such unwavering certainty that a lump of emotion formed in your throat. There were no words in your vocabulary that could possibly convey how not even death would keep you from him, how you would come back to him again and again in any and all lifetimes that you shared.

Fortunately, it seemed that you didn’t have to say anything at all because Ghost had heard it, he had heard all that you couldn’t manage to say and returned the sentiment in the form of leaning up to rest his forehead against yours.

[mymreaderlibrary]

Natasha Romanoff x male reader drabble

(Y/N = your name, H/C = hair color)

Natasha wakes up to the sound of her phone ringing in the other room. Light is just barely beginning to peek through the blinds and her bedroom is illuminated by a yellow haze. With a huff she begrudgingly untangles herself from y/n’s arms as he continues to sleep peacefully in their shared bed. Nat stretches before scooping up the first item of clothing she sees on the floor. It’s y/n’s hoodie which ends up swamping her in size. It hangs down to her middle thigh and covers most of her hands. Comfy. She zips up the front lazily and pads into the other room, letting out a light sigh as she sees a familiar name light up across her phone screen. “Tony, you better have a good reason to be calling me at… 6:50 am”. She hears him chuckle on the other end, “oh come on Nat, can’t you be at least a little happy to hear from me”, “not when I have a warm bed that’s calling my name”. Nat takes a moment to rub her temples as she can immediately hear the teasing tone build up in the other man’s voice. “Just a bed doing that? No h/c man complaining about a startling lack of cuddles?” “Ha ha very funny Tony, now what do you want?” She responds with blunt sarcasm. “Sadly it’s business, and not the kind that’s good for over the phone. Meet me at the tower in about 20 and I’ll debrief you with everyone” and with a click the call ends. Nat sighs, so much for a lazy morning. If it’s as confidential as Tony is hinting at she probably needs to get dressed in her gear, so she heads back to her room and begins slipping on her suit. A muffled “hmph” sounds behind her as she drops y/n’s jacket back onto the floor. “Leaving already?” Y/n says with a slight slur. “Duty calls” she replies as he rubs his eyes to look at her. “You mean Tony calls”, “same thing”. Y/n rolls over, plopping his head onto the pillows and looking at Natasha with a pout while she finishes the last zipper. “Nat” “yes, котик?” She turns to face him, a teasing smile meeting her eyes. “Be safe out there”. Natasha’s smile turns soft before she bridges the gap between them. The kiss lingers for a moment as she cups his face in her hands. “You know I can’t promise that” “…but you can at least try” she leaned her forehead against his “…I can try”.