#141 fluff

but they all carry something.

simon has a hair tie on his wrist. black, cheap, the kind you buy in packs of fifty and lose all over the damn flat. it sits under the cuff of his glove, biting into his skin, reminding him exactly why he needs to make it home. it always smells like your shampoo for a bit before it starts to smell like his own sweat, he finds himself a new one on the bathroom floor before each deployment.

price wears a watch. it’s not the watch that’s about you, really. it’s that he started setting the second time zone to match yours. he checks it more than he should, especially at night when he can’t sleep and it’s three a.m where he is and eight a.m where you are. he’ll think: ‘she’ll be making coffee, i wonder what she wore to bed’ and that’s the closest he lets himself get to mixing you with work.

kyle wears a bracelet. it’s thin braided yarn, the kind of thing you learned to make as a kid at camp. you made it on a slow sunday afternoon while he was half-asleep on your thigh. he said ‘oh, that’s sick, darling. ta!’, put it on and hasn’t taken it off since. it’s absolutely filthy these days. and when it starts to fray, he simply keeps re-knotting it, sometimes johnny has to help get it tight.

Dad! Price + pregnant! reader

John Price wasn’t a man prone to sentiment. But lately, he’d caught his son watching him with that quiet, studious expression that five year olds wore when they were trying to understand something big.

It started small. A look, a tilt of the head when John helped you ease onto the couch, one hand steady at your back, the other adjusting the pillows just right. Then came the little imitations—a small hand pressed to your knee when you sighed, a too-big glass of water pushed into your hands before you even asked for it.

Yeah. The boy was watching.

John saw it in the way his son trailed after him, his steps careful and deliberate, like he was trying to map out the rhythm of care he has always provided for you.

He didn’t just follow orders; he anticipated. When John pulled out a chair for you, the boy did the same at breakfast the next morning, brows drawn in concentration as he dragged the heavy thing across the floor. When John pressed a hand to your lower back in passing, the kid reached up later, tiny palm resting there for half a second before scampering off, satisfied with a smile that he made his mother feel comfortable.

And when you winced one evening, shifting uncomfortably, it was your son who slipped off the couch without a word, returning a minute later with one of your small heating pads from the bathroom. He set it down beside you, nudging it toward your hand before looking up expectantly.

John, sitting across from you, just huffed a quiet laugh.

Smart boy.

He didn’t tell him to do any of this. Didn’t have to.

The kid was simply learning straight from him. Picking up on the way his father moved around his mother, how he noticed things before you had to say them, how care wasn’t in grand gestures but in the easy, natural rhythm of love.

John caught his son’s eye, tilting his head just slightly. The boy straightened a little, waiting.

Good lad, he thought, with a small nod of approval.

He was going to turn out just fine.

Once they get through all the messy paperwork and debriefing, their feet drag on the ground to the showers. It’s silent as they each take a stall, washing away the grime, the aches, the entire mission if they could. Lights out isn’t for another few hours and they haven’t spotted you or Kyle yet so they head towards the common room.

They round the corner only for Johnny to scream and nearly jump out of his skin when he sees you. You with a silk bonnet on your head, face covered in a drying green clay face mask, fluffy bathrobe, a bag of crisps in one hand and a tea in the other. “Nice to see you too.” You roll your eyes at his theatrics, Simon shoving Johnny off his torso.

“Wha’ on earth are ya doin’?” John asks.

“It’s self care night! I usually stay in my room but I’ve been coming out since you’ve been away.” You shrug and walk past them, leading to the common room.

“So ye have just been doin’ tha’ by ye’self?” Johnny asks.

“No, Kyle joins me now too.”

“Bonnie, we love ye’ bu’ even we kew Kyle woul’n’t be caught wit’ green icin’ on his face.”

“For your information, it’s a revitalising mask and he rather enjoys it.” Simon pushes the door open for you and you all enter.

Kyle is sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch with a book in his hands, his own fluffy robe on and the cray mask spread over his nose and forehead. Johnny lets out a laugh when he sees him.

“Kyle, ye’ve been taken ta the dark side!”

The only acknowledgment the others receive is a nod at their return as you sit on the couch behind him. He leans his head back and you place a small peck on his hairline before massaging his scalp. “If this is the dark side then I’m all for it.”

Price being on a video call with the Task Force, and you laying your head in his lap. They don't know that you're there until Gaz casually asks how the missus is...To which you poke your head up from Price lap and answer for yourself. This is met with Soap and Gaz excitedly greeting you, while Ghost just waves and greets you in a tone that's gentler than his usual one.

Or calling Price while he's with the guys, and he tries to excuse himself but the guys have him put you on speaker so they can all say hello too, their voices honestly drowning his out.

Whenever you go to the base, the guys are like your personal bodyguards...Or like three unruly dogs that follow you like lost puppies. Whenever Price sees the Sergeants flanking you while Ghost leads so he can open doors for you, he can't help but smile.

The boys grin and giggle like kids whenever you kiss Price, just acting surprisingly childish for grown men who are usually more serious.

They're also the biggest helps in the kitchen, because yes they're invited over for dinner after successful missions. Kyle helps with the actual cooking process, Johnny's the official tester (has kicked yours and Price's dog out of the kitchen so he could take its place), and Simon is always helping with the dishes.

And when you announce that you're expecting? Do NOT expect any of those men to be normal about it. They're the official babysitters and bodyguards, they want that baby to know their names before its even BORN.

CW: afab reader but no specification, pre established relationship, Illusion to sex, slightly controlling behaviour (gaz)

Simon RIley:

When you tell him he just stares at you for a few seconds before going “....right.” then immediately handing you the tea he was literally just drinking and disappearing into the kitchen. He does a little boomerang getting you comfort items and bringing them to the couch, he doesn’t need to and you don’t have to ask but he just gets it for you happily. You play with the little skull decal on the mug as he looks down at you, just silently watching over you and waiting. 

“Simon, I'm fine…it’s not contagious.” you laugh as he just nods in response and keeps his eyes locked on you. “Simon, seriously, relax.” he eventually eases onto the couch next to you just staring. 

“Sorry uh…don’t like you bein’....uncomfortable…” 

“Well the staring isn’t helping.”

“Just…i want to help.” he nearly grunted slowly moving closer to you on the couch “i don’t know how”

“Just sit with me, Simon.” He spends the next hour slowly scooching closer and closer before he wraps himself around your hand, has his big hand on your stomach and just whispers.

“Am I helping…?” His breath caresses the shell of your ear and as you, not a small content little hum escapes him, a sound that makes your eyes widen because you didn’t think a man like him could even make it.  “Good.” he nuzzles deep into your neck.

Johnny Mactavish:

The words “I’m on my period” exit your mouth and he does not even bat an eye, he is not bothered whatsoever. He has sisters, 3, a period means fuck all to him except if you have a particularly bad one to make a pillow fort refuge on the couch incase he does something wrong. But when you cry over stubbing your toe on the counter his hands wrap around the back of your head as he shoves it into his chest, holding you tight and shushing you.

“Ye'r braw, a hurt toe isnae gonnae murdurr ye love,” he kisses along your hairline and slowly guides you to bed letting you cry your heart out. 

“But it hurts johnny-” you sniffled as he puts your heating pad on your stomach and turns on the tv, putting on your favorite show. 

“A'm sure it does darlin'” he turned off the big lights and put on the lamp on your nightstand before slowly easing into bed with you and manhandling you into his arms with a contented smile. You whine in protest as he constantly feeds you water but he immediately quiets you down with headrubs, massaging and scratching your scalp. “Dinnae fight it sweets...trying tae mak' yer feelin' better alright?” When you nod he smiles and lets you fall asleep snuggled up against his body warmth.

Kyle Garrick:

“I know”

“What the fuck do you mean you know?” you huff after coming out of your bathroom, having told Kyle you were on your period, he doesn’t even look up from his phone.

His eyes flicker up“I have your period tracker on my phone” he shows his phone and it was accurate. 

“That's weird- you're weird, Garrick!” you huff as you go to walk away and storm off to your den of solitude in your room but he’s hot on your tail.

“Darling, I just want to look after you…let me?” He holds you by the waist and slowly turns you before leaning down and placing a slow and gentle kiss on your lips. “I’ll delete it if you want…” he nudges at your nose with his own. “I have it mostly for…nefarious purposes” you slap his arm at that but you can’t help but crack a small smile. His whiskey brown eyes gazing down into your own with a kind of love that couldn’t quite be put into words.

“No it’s fine…” you smile, you couldn’t stay mad at him. No, literally you don’t think it’s physically possible for you to stay mad at him when he looks at you like that, with those puppy dog eyes. 

“Is that why you bought me a new hot water bottle?”

He pecks your lips “mhm..” he chases your lips as you keep speaking.

“And the bathbombs….” he kept trying to kiss you, holding you gently on either side of the neck, his eyes hooded yet focussed on your lips. “Mhm~” he plants another one on you, his breathing getting a little faster.

“Is that why you bought me a family pack of chocolates?” he smiled and slowly moved the hair away from your face. 

“I thought we could share them”

“Oh you’re funny garrick” you grin as you break away and grab the chocolates from the counter before planting yourself in a blanket cocoon.

John price:

He also really isn't all that bothered when you break the news, nor does he mind when you wake him up in the middle of the night to tell him you leaked on the white bed sheets. This bear of a man lifts your bridal style to the bathroom and sits you on the edge of the bath. He retrieves a clean pair of underwear and sleep shorts for you, still seemingly mostly asleep as he mechanically pulls the sheets off the bed and puts them in the wash immediately, switching it on. He knocks on the bathroom toilet.

“Alright love?” he hummed his voice about two octaves lower than normal, you can't see but his forehead is pressed against the door, almost falling asleep right then and there, shirtless pressed against the door of the ensuite. 

“Mhm…”you waddle out and press into him, he’s still warm as hell, he always runs warm but he was like a personal heater just for you. “Feel like shit…” you grumble as his coarse chest hair rubs up against your cheek. He sleepily just kisses the intersection of your eye brows blindly trailing kisses down your face hoping to maybe get one somewhere close to your lips.

so i know you probably meant Simon Riley x Reader but I'm just gonna do my own thing with this and give you both Simon and John hcs. A twofer if you will hehe x

(thank you for this im foaming for cod reqs)

Based on a request:

This just popped into my head, s/o reader who hates perfume, so they sometimes steal the boys' cologne :3 --- F!Reader, fluff, established!relationship ---

You never liked the smell of any perfume, tried to love at least one but none of them felt like they would be your signature smell, that and the smell was always so strong. All your friends had one, they would try and persuade you into buying one but never did you feel like one belonged to you. Your boyfriend knew this, he knew that he wouldn't have some of your perfume all over his clothes and he was fine with it. Your lipstick stain on his neck or the red hue on his lips was enough for him to parade around. He fell in love with the girl who left those beautiful lipstick stains.

This is just self indulgent cause I got my first tattoo illegally for my 14th birthday (kinda early)

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon isn't too surprised. he knows how you are, and knows you like tattoos. but that doesn't mean he isn't upset. he doesn't want you to have stuff like this so early, he was hesitant to let you gauge your ears even. He isn't too upset with you, having tattoos himself he understands. But he does make sure you treat it right after, buys you tattoo gel, asks if it was sanitary how you got it. he does advise not get any more, or at least only maybe two more in the teen years. small ones. Simon doesn't expect you to be perfect, but he doesn't want you to be a degenerate.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Gaz is surprised at first when he sees your tattoo. He doesn't immediately scold you, asking if it is in fact a tattoo. You're honest, and tell him it is. he doesn't seem too pleased, but he isn't really mad either. He as well asks if it was sanitary, and asks if you've been treating it right. He tells you that next time you want one you can ask him to take you to a parlor.

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

He probably hears about second hand. When he does he peeks his head in your room, asking if he can see it. He asks you if it hurt too bad, calls you a wiss if you say it hurt. Gives you a small punch on the arm, feigning anger that he wasn't there, and asks if you want to get matching ones with him. He isn't upset, and he trusts you enough to figure you keep it clean

John Price