the nickname had started with simon first. passing you in the hallway, hand falling on your lower back as he squeezed past you, greeting you with a good morning and “s’cuse me sweetheart, just gettin’ past”
he’d say it when catching you working out in the gym, complimenting you on your form with a hidden “nice form, sweet girl, keep those legs apart”. somehow he’d find his way behind you, pressing his body against you. you never knew how he ended up there.
then it spread to soap, with a little more enthusiasm. greeting you in the hallways, calling the name out loud enough to get the attention of everyone. “what’s our sweet girl been up ta’?”, “anything new goin’ on, sweet girl?”
you couldn’t lie, it turned you the fuck on. especially when simon said it with his low voice, creeping up behind you and rasping it in your ear. soap almost made a humiliation ritual out of it, causing you to run to a private area to play with yourself— thinking of the two having their way with you, all while calling you “sweet girl”.
it was even worse when gaz got to it. he spoke it with such love, smiling with that natural charm he had. “hey there, sweet girl,” smirking as usual. during gun training one day he had your panties soaked from all the praising and pet-names. and you think he knew it.
price catching on is the cherry on the fucking cake. he just knows how to use it in a way that his boy’s don’t. “what’re ya’ doin’ there sweet girl?” “sure you can handle all that?” “need some help there, sweet thing?”
it got so bad you knew it had to be a running joke! something they were all in on. but it wasn’t, you really just were their sweet girl <3
i wrote this at like 3am bc i wanted to do some sfw stuff but ended up being SLIGHTLY smutty bc… phew. anyways !! asks are open !!
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or: you and Country!Simon get in an argument and he fucks the anger away.
cw: 3.3k wrds, 18+ mdni, smut with little plot, jealous!simon, no use of y/n, married!reader (to Simon), angry sex, p in v, creampie, cunnilingus, pussy pronouns and slaps, back shots, cowgirl, nipple play, exhibitionism (if you squint), outdoor sex, daddy kink (papa/pa), breeding kink, country!simon, lucky!reader.
a/n: forfeit by Kiana Ledé was my inspo
It’s not that your friends were bad, quite the opposite really, they were great and easily welcomed your husband into the group even though he was on the quieter side. They’d come from the city to congratulate you on the marriage since just your two best of friends came to the wedding.
It was your friend, Vee, her boyfriend that didn’t know his fucking place.
He saw the way you looked at Simon, all heart eyed and yearning for his approval. And Simon’s pretty seafoam orbs would dance all over you, to your pretty face, to your lips to your chest and back to your dark mocha eyes and pretty skin, give you a smile under his skull bandana that no one would understand but you. And Simon would just know you were blushing because you’d look away with smiling harder than ever, squeezing his arm as you continued conversation with your friends—
God, Simon was in love with you. Could’ve done anything for you.
Would’ve beat the breaks off your friends boyfriend if he was alone for a second.
It couldn’t be more obvious that you were a happily married and taken woman. But that stupid bastard couldn’t keep his eyes up, continued to ask about you brushing off Simon, and to top it off you were acting like it wasn’t happening. Still entertaining conversation with him, laughing— giggling.
“Where did you two meet? I’m suprised a city girl like you would move so far just to live in the country.” The fool asked in the middle of conversation, cutting you off from talking about some story from college.
Strike two.
“O-Oh, we’ve known each other since we were younger—“
“—We fucked like dogs right in that old barn when we re-introduced ourselves though.” Simon doesn’t miss a beat. He’s not really one for white lies and he doesn’t care if the truth hurts.
He’ll be as crass as he wants to prove a point. Your friend’s boyfriend, the idiot, was staring too hard. Simon doesn’t mind when people looked, you were as pretty as rain. Curves nice as ever, that jaw dropping smile, pretty brown eyes and curls he loved to play with no matter how long or short. His drop dead gorgeous baby, married to him in the backwoods. Heavy on his.
Heat rushed through your whole body, embarrassment, while your friends squealed in excitement. Your friend Shauna teased, “[+], I didn’t know you were such a naughty girl.”
You washed it down with a sip of wine though, a playful smack to your husbands shoulder— a warning— “Nothins wrong with a little fun. Right Simon?” You emphasized his name. The first time you’d said it all night.
Five and a half times in that barn, but who’s counting?
The wild man gave a cheeky grin, “Course Darlin.”
More squeals from your friends, they thought Simon was right out of a movie. A dream man. He was.
Not when he was acting territorial.
When dinner finally rolled around Vee’s boyfriend, Samuel, offered to help. It was the touching that was an issue. The sly touch to your back when he was moving around you, how he kept trying to brush fingers and you’d jerk your hand away— he’d knock the poor boys head off. Simon swooped in of course, told Samuel it’d be best if he sat, ‘let the man ‘f the house handle it’ while wrapping his arm around your waist and tugging you a little closer as you held the baked duck in your hands.
strike fucking three.
Thankfully, everyone was tired after their long plane ride down and the wonderful dinner you prepared. You sent them off with a tight smiles and big waves, yelling how you couldn't wait till tomorrow to show them around.
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 🍀 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
Simply put, Simon never liked arguing inside the house.
Didn’t matter if it was cold or raining outside. He’d rather take it on that porch. Get out everything that needed to be said, even if he was giving you a spanking— he didn’t want that energy festering inside the house. Apologizing could be done there or in the house but don’t hold a grudge.
Ever since he’d been with you, the house was truly the definition of one of those wall decorations that said, ‘home sweet home.’ Peaceful, loving, quiet. The method Simon had you two so hung up on, worked.
Any anger or irritation got left at the door. You’re mad? Go for a walk or figure it out on the porch.
You’ve really only had a few arguments since your short time together, little things and could be resolved before they could even begin erupting. Nothing like this, that had you scrapping food off dishes to harshly and putting them in the dish water and washing the poor dishes so roughly.
Simon leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, eyebrow raised, bandana that once covered his face sitting on the counter.
“You gonna break the dishes if you keep doin it like that.”
You mumbled, shaking your head, completely incoherent, “Fuck off.”
“What’d you say?”
“I said, fuck off!” you yelled, placing the dish in your hand ever so gently on the drying wrack.
You laugh, nothing but sarcastic, “Why did you have to talk to him like that, huh? He was being friendly! Everyone was havin a good time!”
“Did you not see the way he was talking ‘nd ogling his damn eyes at you the whole night? Son of a bitch acted like he wasn’t looking at a married woman!” Simon scuffed.
“He was not!”
“[+] you can’t be fuckin—“ The older man cuts himself off. Takes in a deep breath— get to that porch. He grits, “Come on, let’s talk.”
You know exactly what he means, you know he really isn’t asking. But you’re unmoving, simply continue the rest of the dishes in the sink.
“No.”
“What?”
“I said, no! How many times do I gotta fuckin repeat myself tonight?! I don’t wanna do your talkin on the porch shit! I wanna finish the damn dishes and go to sleep on my side of the bed! You listen to everybody but me! Your fuckin wife--“ Simon doesn’t let you finish, just manages to get you over his shoulder. The utensils you had in your hand clanging to the floor as you slap at his back, shouting and thrashing to get out his arms.
You land on your feet when Simon puts you down on that hard wood of the wrap around porch. You shove at his chest, “You think you can just move me as you fuckin please, Riley!? I’m a person! A human being!”
“A human bein, I’ll move again if I fuckin want to till you fuckin get it in your big ass head-“
“—I do not!—“
“—You’re big ass head,” he repeated, “that, that idiot was fuckin flirtin with you! Lookin at you like a meal on a silver platter, kept tryin to touch up on you with his own damn girlfriend sitting next to ‘em! And ya went ‘nd encouraged-“
“—Don’t fuckin lie Simon! I would never encourage anyone to- to flirt with me! And the whole night I was lookin at you! Could barely get a handle on myself because I’m hung up on the likes of you!” You poked at his chest. He knew you were right, you’d never do anything like that, not even if the thought graced your mind.
You were a gorgeous little thang, any man with working or non working eyes would fawn over you just from your kindness alone, your pretty voice too. But for someone to do it so blatantly. Do it while Simon was right there. Oh, he hated it.
“Just fuckin admit it, you’re fuckin jealous! I don’t why you wanna pick a fight with me when you should be mad at your damn self for acting like that.”
Oh the unruly thing— to speak the truth on jealousy.
Forfeit the fight and apologize.
Simon’s hands clenched and unclenched, chest heaving up and down— he chose the latter.
Let him show you how you were his and his alone, right on that porch. He’d think of an apology mid fuck, say sorry once or twice and say it again to you tomorrow. Proper, make you breakfast and talk all soft how you like. Make you squirm in your seat with kisses on your neck till you shrug and whisper, ‘I-I guess Mr. Riley.’
Fuck, you were so damn cute. Couldn't keep his hands off you.
Till then, he’d bend you over while he sat in one of the rocking chairs. Hike that pretty white skirt up to your hips while bringing your mushy mess of clothed pussy right to his face.
How’d he do all that so quickly? Well it’s quiet easy when your both a little mad, a little cynical in your own right— so pissed off that you both need to “cool off” your own emotions. Rub one out.
That southern man would yank you close by the hip with his large hand and plant a kiss on your needy two tone lips. Roughly intertwining your mouths, if you’d interject (or tried to get another word out), he’d slap your ass a few times. Enough to get a moan out of you, telling you to ‘shut the fuck up.’ You’ll stumble over to the chair together and he’ll spin you around, do what he has to do.
And God, did he loooove fucking you on that wrap around porch. Whether it be at the end of a long work day or right after the chickens crowed on his day off that had to be spent with you and no one else.
Mouth salivating, Simon ripped apart your white cotton panties in two, with a cut pink bow and embroidered with Mrs. Riley on them, causing you to yelp out, swatting at his shoulder while he spread your pussy lips apart. Staring at the glistening pink mess only he could see, only he could create.
“So gorgeous mama. Ruinin this underwear, who’s all this for?”
He whispers, not to you, not to himself, to God— ‘Thank you for the meal’ he’d give your cunt a sweet peck before letting his flat tongue swallow you whole. Slurping up every drop that came out of you.
“F-fuck you Mr. Riley, seriously fuck you!” You gasped, hand reaching behind you to spread yourself wider.
He groans against you, slapping at your sopping mess once, “Lil girl, I’m tryin,” he flicks his tongue around your hole before sliding two fingers into you. “Therrre you go Lucky, all that damn talkin, just needed somethin in your pretty little hole huh?”
You moan, “Talkin c-cause I’m right! hngh- You’re just- hah- just so hardheaded- aangh!”
Simon thrusts his fingers harsher, sucking at the fingers you were getting wet, then down to your pretty button of a clit. You kick your foot out right when his fingers curl into you juuuuust right, almost falling forward till he wraps an arm around you to keep you steady.
“Stay still baby girl, or you’ll fall.” he gruffs, lapping his tongue every to slowly through your folds.
“Mr. Riley- I can’t! Shit! Augh“ you hiccup, you gut twisting in knots.
“Shhhh Mrs. Riley? Yer bein so loud when me ‘nd her are talkin.” Simon buries his face in your cunt, fingers slamming into creating a loud sloshing of your wetness until he feels you flutter once, his takes a breath away, his voice horse as your syrupy cum trickles down his throat and onto the floor. “This is just what she needs baby, just hush and take it.”
He bites the beautiful fat of your ass before diving back in, slurping and letting his fingers work in and out of you till you’re shattering around his thick digits. Screaming as you wet his face. And Simon swallows it all down. Sticking his tongue in your sponginess of your walls as you clench repeatedly.
Simon pulls away, turning you around while your still in a daze, face wetter than ever with your slick. He pulls you on top of him, springing his aching cock free from the boxers that restrained them, that slaps right at his abs. You rested your head against his, letting the man rub his aching red tip against your hole.
With a slap to your ass, you ease yourself down on him, a pornographic moan of pain and pleasure leaving your plump lips.
“Take this off.” Simon huffs, fingers pulling at the straps of your bralette and grinding up into you.
“Mmph- But Simon i-it’s strange.” You hiccup. You always get so nervous when you two go at it on the porch. His shy baby, he’d remind you that no one, especially at 1 or 2 in the morning, is coming or will ever hear your loud moans. But maybe you’d sound like a banshee if this man got anywhere near your chest. Your nipples had become so sensitive as of late and you didn’t know why.
Simon on the other hand, adored it. Couldn’t get enough when they got all puffy and the way you whined when they hurt. Like music to his ears. But he soothes you, rubs your back and rests his chin on your chest.
“Ain’t strange f’me tuh have what’s mine, is it? Come on, show ‘em to me. You know I looooove how pretty they are.”
You bite your lip, this man could get you to do anything. If this was 10 months ago, you would’ve laughed in your own face if you said you were fucking outside, let alone mindlessly listening to a man. You took off the material holding your breasts, throwing it off to the side.
Simon cups them both in his large hands, groping and squeezing at them, “Pretty tits gonna be filled with milk for our kid soon, huh mama? Can’t wait to see you feedin ‘em. Gonna look so beautiful.”
You moaned his lap, attempting to cover your mouth with the back of your hand as he gave one of your nipples a little suck. Gently taking it between his teeth and nipping at it.
You looked beautiful, your pretty mounds bouncing right in his face while you moved up and down, taking every inch of his veiny cock he was willing to give you. All while he sucked your hardened nipples, looking you right in the eyes. A groan escapes you lips, grinding your hips even harder.
He grunts, meeting you half way and thrusting up into you when your legs began to shake, “Love when I suck on ‘em don’tcha Lucky? Need it to get off.”
You only whimper, eyes fluttering, as you fight your own pleasure. You manage to stifle up a, “Shut up Mr. Riley.” But it does no Justice to the way your rubbing your perfect tits in his face. Begging for more. Wanting him to suck just a little bit more.
“Lil girl, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want, can I?” He tuts, looking up at you with such lust filled eyes.
“Please Si, need you, please?” You keen, letting your nipples rub against his face to feel something, anything.
Simon would give you anything at the drop of a hat, even if you didn’t have any manners, and most definitely if you used that ultra rare nickname with him. He grips your hips, slamming you down on his dick, taking your gorgeous nipples in his mouth and sucking like his life depended on it making you moan. His tongue swirled around your areola, French kissing both of them equally while he rudely bullied his cock through your velvety walls.
Your fingers find his golden locks of hair, running through them while he rams into you, finding your g-spot causing you to squeal, more of your slick dropping past your thighs and onto Simon.
“Fuck me baby, Gonna cum, you want it?”
“Want it so bad Mr. Riley. Nng- Need it all in me.” You whine. Your head falls on his shoulder as he sob his name like a prayer, clutching onto him as your walls tighten around his length, spasming.
“That’s it pretty, that’s it, s-shit.” Simon fills you to the brim, working his cum deep inside you, bouncing you a few more times.
You don’t even know how you got to the floor.
You fluttered your eyes open and Simon had you on your knees, the meanest arch with your back and your face pressed up against the hardwoods floor. Your mixed cum was dripping down to the floor while he smacked his tip against your sloppy cunt. You shuddered at the feeling, mewling in want.
Simon heard your phone ring from his back pocket, he scuffed yanking it out from his pants, just to see that idiot calling you. And probably while his girlfriend was sleep, that fucking cheating bitch. A curse feel from Simons lips.
“Mr. Riley?” You keened, You looked back at him with those big brown eyes, batting those long lashes, a pout adorning your face. You shimmied your ass back on him and he groaned.
Were you too cock drunk to hear your own damn phone vibrate? A devilish grin on Simons face, he’ll get what he wants and fill you up just how you need to too.
He answered it, leaving it on speaker before tossing it in the chair Simon just fucked you in.
“[+]? Are you there?” The stupid prick asks in a whisper, and right then Simon rocks himself into you. Giving your ass a harsh slap before drilling his dick inside your cum soaked walls.
“Fuuuuck- feels so goooood Mr. Riley!” You practically screamed, eyes fluttering shut. That was answer enough, honestly. Your Mr. Riley was fucking you dumber than dumb, your mouth forming a ‘o’ with movement.
“Tell me darlin, who you in love with?”
“M-my huuushband.” you slurred out, drool leaving the corner of your lips, nipples grazing the floor with every harsh thrust.
“And who’s that?”
“Mmmph- you Mr. Riley.”
The ends of Simons lip curve up, such a good girl taking his cock. A white ring forming at the base of his length, “ ‘S that right pretty?”
“I-I love you soooo much papa! More than- hngh- mooore than anything, I swear!”
Papa? New.
He likes it.
Simon snickers at your response, stretching you out so fucking much, and giving you the sluttiest, cruelest thrusts of his life. The loud, smack, smack, smack of your hips colliding could be heard miles away, “Pa loves you too, don’t I, Lucky?”
“So much, fuck, love on me sooo much Pa!” You breath hitched,
And it’s just enough to let that bastard hear exactly what Simon Riley does to you. Simon glances at the phone and it’s already hung up, he's sure the idiots dick got wet from the precious and needy sounds you and your sobbing cunt were making.
Love making was a be-au-tiful thing between a married couple who loved each other, wasn’t it?
Simon bends down, tweaking your nipples in his hands as he rams into you faster, swiveling his hips into you.
His voice is low, gentle, and he whispers right in your ear which makes you tingle all over, “I’m sorry sweet girl, was jealous.”
“I- shit, shit, shit, I know. Mmph- ‘s okay. Love you so much, always want you sooo fuckin much papa.” Your words turn into sobs, tears filling your eyes as you jerk in his arms.
“That’s my girl.” Simon mumbles against your cheek, holding you closer, makes you take his thick cock while he bruises your poor cunt. His hand comes down to your clit, giving it small circles with his thumb, and you cum. Hard. And maybe you were as loud as a banshee, completely soaking the dick that was splitting you cunt in half.
And Simon didn’t stop, fucking you right through your orgasm that seemed to never end.
Simon growls at the feel of your gummy walls, managing to get tighter while he gives you frantic thrusts. Gobbling at your neck while he snaps his hips into yours, kissing your cervix with his leaking tip. Grunts and moans of ecstasy fill the star fill sky as you two cum. Ropes of cum leaking right into your womb, just as you needed.
A good filling.
Simon pats your stomach, “That’s right where our babies gonna go Lucky. Promise, tonight a baby's gonna be right in there.”
You giggle, eyes low and dazed, “G-gonna make you a real Daddy, Mr.Riley.”
“Yeah,” he swoons breathlessly. Kissing the apple of your cheek making you giggle again. “Can’t wait to see our pretty baby sweetheart.”
a/n: this was a request so lmk what you think bubbas (I know it wasn’t that icky but idk I still think it’s cute). Also @bunnybeaches proofread for me so thank you so much🥺 I luv you.
Civilian Reader Y/N! who absolutely loses it when Simon parks his 🏍️ directly in front of her door like he’s claiming territory. She shoves past him, muttering about civic sense, common sense – Simon, who physically flinches at the creative slurs (cockgoblinslutbraindeadpest). Once. Never again. (He lies.)
Simon! who stares at her like she’s the devil reincarnate when she blasts music at night. Dirty Diana has played five times on loop. He’s convinced she’s hard of hearing.
What he doesn’t know is that she passed out an hour ago, face-down, loudspeaker on.
Y/N! who throws parties every other week. Her friends end up whispering about “the creepy big man who keeps peeking through the windows.”
Simon! who is absolutely not peeking–he’s conducting surveillance to make sure there’s no drug racket. And is wildly offended when she calls him an old geezer for being paranoid.
Y/N! who spots her grumpy neighbour doing push-ups half-naked in his front yard and yells “MANWHORE!” while pretending to be on a phone call.
The next day, she drags out dumbbells and does her own workout in front of her house, grunting loudly (caveman documentary audition)–far louder than any man ever could.
Simon! who revs his bike unnecessarily loud just to piss her off. Immediately regrets it when she yells back.
“HARDER, MF THAT ALL IT’S GOT?”
“MY HOUSE LIZARD CAN FART LOUDER THAN THAT!”
Simon stalls the bike. On purpose. Definitely on purpose. And looks at her as if she did it. 👁️👁️
Y/N! who hears loud, ridiculously exaggerated moans at three in the morning and knows! knows it’s another one of her neighbour’s hookups.
The man has a new girl every week whenever he’s home. She rates them mentally. Pure 0s.
Simon! who wakes up the next morning to aggressive knocking. Y/N is yelling down the street –
“Mr. Riley!! I've got your medicine for the CRAB SITUATION you've got going on!”
At full volume. Before sunrise. And yeah every girl ends up running out of his door.
Y/N! who intentionally colors her railings hot pink to piss him off. But he ends up liking them and paints his side pink too to match...huh?
Simon! who knows if he gets low she'll go lower. But stays on his porch at two in night when he hears her cry after a date. Silent. Watching.
Sick if it made his cock twitch every time he came home with a fresh bruise or a new cut and the first thing you did was drop everything, rushing to his side with furrowed brows and worried hands, little compared to his.
Always asking if he was okay, even when he already told you he was fine. Not that it was your fault, not when he made the stories sound worse than they were.
That shallow nick on his arm from Johnny slipping while cleaning his blade? No, sweetheart, that was from an enemy ambush. Caught him off guard, pushed him hard into a concrete wall and slashed his arm with a veryy sharp knife.
He might’ve even blacked out a bit, hard to say.
Sex was even better when he was hurt, because you slowed down, you were gentle, whispering are you okay? like it would stop the ache. You made love to him like he was breakable and fuck if that didn’t ruin him.
He, on the other hand, was a bastard.
His shoulder was barely healed, and here he was already flipping you on your stomach, ignoring your squeals of protest, “Simon— be careful!”
He nearly came just from that sound alone, the way you worried even while your body trembled beneath his.
Maybe he even started doing it on purpose.
Slowing down just enough to get clipped, a bruise here and there, sometimes a gash. Nothing fatal nor serious. Just enough to limp through the door and earn that panicked little gasp from you.
But you didn’t need to know that part, sweetheart.
Just keep fussing over him, cupping his face with worried hands, kissing the bruise on his jaw like it hurt you more than him.
Yeah, no he’d be fine
I have barely been active on tumbler recently so I apologize for that and the fact this is lowkey short lmao
SUM:
It turns out that even the deadliest men can stumble... when they accidentally cop a feel.
⟢・・・・・・・・・・・・⟢
It starts innocently. You're climbing down from the truck bed after a long, tiring day. Grumbling about your knees and cursing the military for not installing ladders.
Simon's waiting at the back, arms crossed, half-smirking.
“Quit complainin’. I’ve jumped out of helicopters higher than that,” he says.
You glance over your shoulder, feigning a glare.
“Wanna swap knees with me?”
He steps closer with a sigh, gloved hands raised as if he’s about to help someone twice your age cross a street.
“C’mere. I’ll catch you.”
You hesitate — not because you don’t trust him, but because he’s never offered before. Never asked to be close. Never asked for you to fall toward him.
So you do.
Facing away from him and hop down, just a little faster than planned.
And his hands catch you.
But they're not on your waist.
It’s… lower.
His palms clap firmly around the curve of your ass, all instinct and zero hesitation.
Your boots hit the ground within a second, but he still doesn't let go.
You turn your head to look at him.
He is frozen.
Not blinking. Not breathing.
The tips of his ears go unmistakably pink behind the mask.
“That where you meant to catch me?” you ask, one brow raised.
His voice, when it comes, is a gravelly mutter — defensive, raspy, like his entire brain has just short-circuited.
“Was tryna’ stabilize you.”
“Uh-huh.”
He drops his hands like they’ve burned him. And taking a full step back like you’re radioactive.
“Y’gonna sue me?”
You laugh. Loud. Honest. And when you walk past, you make sure to sway just enough for his eye to twitch.
Later, when sitting by the fire, nursing a flask, you murmur just loud enough for him to hear:
“Next time, Ghost, you can ask first.”
And the man — the battle-hardened, skull-faced soldier — has to look away, hiding the smile behind his hand.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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How TF 141 + König react to nonsocial!reader saying you want to go home
Tags: Fluff
WC: 368
A/N: I haven't written anything for months so this was really fun. Hope y'all enjoy!
Ghost wants to go home too. This party wasn’t even his idea. How you and Price convinced him to go, he will never understand. The lights are too bright, everyone is too loud, and he doesn’t even like these people. They shouldn’t take it personally, Simon doesn’t like most people. The second you say those words, her perks up like a dog hearing it’s name called. He doesn’t bother with goodbyes and certainly not any hugs or “it was so good to see you” or “we should do this again”. No, not with Simon. He takes your hand and books it to the door. His large frame nearly knocks a few people to their asses in his haste, but he doesn’t care. His mission is to get the both of you out of this party no matter who he has to take down on the way out.
König doesn’t know who to thank when you tell him you want to go home. Home goods shopping isn’t exactly his idea of a fun and relaxing Saturday, especially when the alternative is laying around at home with you, the dog and being as far away from random strangers as possible. Like Ghost, he barrels through the aisles, cart full and eyes set on the self check out. Good luck to the poor employee who tried to stop him, reminding him of the 15 item maximum. König doesn't care, he never has, but now? Now anyone who tries to stop him is enemy #1.
Price is very understanding about it, even if he doesn’t want to go home himself. He might try to convince you to stay just a little longer so he can give a few people goodbyes or grab an extra snack for the road. He is always putting you first so the second you are clearly over it, eyes impatient and head gesturing subtly to the door, he is on his way back to you and out the door. An old mate stops him on the way to the door? Sorry, gotta run. Door knob spontaneously falls off? He is breaking that door down himself.
Gaz doesn’t want to go home at all. He is always so social and friendly that he can have a hard time understanding when you are ready to go. When you two first got together he would get frustrated, still wanting to be out and socializing but as time went on he would come to understand. It was crowded, loud, and not your scene at all. The club was the last place you wanted to be. Kyle knew that. That's why he brought you; to get you out of your shell. Maybe have a good time that wasn't spent on the couch with the cats and all 20 seasons of Gunsmoke. But, no. This just wasn't you. Kyle is beside you immediately, making sure you are alright. He can see the discomfort all over your face. He knows it's time to go, maybe even grab your favorite Chinese on the way home.
Soap just wants you to be happy, so if you want to go home, he wants to go home. The "get together" as Johnny called it was much to loud, people everywhere, music three notches too high, and the food wasn't even that good. You didn't last long; only twenty minutes in and you're ready to get out of there but you tough it out for Johnny, you always do, but Johnny is too damn smart. He is clued into very movement, every expression, every single twitch of your brow. He knows, you don't even have to say it. He makes some excuse to your hosts about errands or doctors appointments, whatever he can come up with to get you out of there and back home to your cat and knitting.
"We're back!" The Captain called out as he and the Lieutenant shuffled into the 141's private common room, kicking the door shut behind them; their arms much too preoccupied with cradling the bountiful feast they'd set out. "Gaz, they were outta vegetable spring rolls, mate. Your just gonna have to cope without this occasion-"
However, the pair of commanding officers came to a screeching halt as they took in the scene before them. You - the Task Forces newest addition - quite clearly upset and your fellow Sergeants sat on either side of you. The old, worn brown leather couch sagging under yours, Soap and Gaz's weight.
"Didn't think no spring rolls would be such a big deal" Ghost murmured dryly as he took in your tears, his eyes crinkling into what might have been a confused scowl behind his skull-printed balaclava.
"What's going on?" John asked as he shuffled further into the room, setting the steaming bags of take-out down on to the counter of the kitchenette - the small kitchen space all but shoved into one corner of the common room. His brow furrowing into a soft frown as he tried to make sense of the situation.
He'd always been a bit of a softie when it came to his Sergeants, not that he'd ever admit it.
"Their partner-" Kyle began to explain before Johnny cut in with his own grumble, continuing to gently rub at your back.
"Ex."
"-just dumped them over text" Gaz continued, ignoring the Scotsman.
"How could they do this to me?" You whimpered between another choked sob.
The sudden break-up didn't exactly come as a surprise to the team, per say. It had been a long time in the making. Yet, unfortunately it appeared everyone but you had seemed to realise the decline of what once was a happy relationship.
The arguments, last minute cancelled plans, short periods of ghosting - you had simply chose to believe that you and your ex had just been going through a rough patch. After all, you'd been together a few years now and you'd thought you'd known them better than to just end things over text... apparently you didn't.
"What a fuckin' idiot," Simon scoffed in his typical blunt fashion, taking the rest of the squad by surprise; your sobs quietening to upset sniffles as you blink at him. Setting his own bags of goodies down on the counter beside the Captain's and reaching for the plates up in the cupboard to begin dishing up the team's usual Friday Night takeaway. "Lettin' someone like you slip through their fingers."
"See, bonnie? Ah told yeh tha' yeh were too good for tha' wanker," Soap joined in, gesturing to the Lieutenant victoriously. "Has tah be true 'cause even LT agrees!"
"I just.. I just thought they were the one, yanno?" You shrugged, arms wrapping around yourself in a self-hug, shaking your head; reluctant to believe their reassurance. "I feel so stupid..."
"Oh, dove, got yourself into a right tizzy, haven't you?" John sighed sympathetically, abandoning the Chinese takeaway for the time being and padding across the room. Before slowly kneeling down in front of where you sat, his knees cracking as he did, large hands falling atop your knees and giving them a light squeeze. "If they couldn't be bothered to do the right thing and give you closure face-to-face then I'm afraid I have to agree with the lads. You deserved better than a bloody text after years spent together."
"And you not stupid," Kyle added, nudging you with his elbow and offering one of his most charming smiles. "See it this way - at least you know now before you wasted anymore time on that tosser, yeah?"
That earned the barest hint of a smile, the corners of your lips twitching upwards.
"Anyway," Soap grinned, seeing an opportunity as your distress began to waver. Playfully flexing his biceps and earning a real laugh from you. "Who needs them when yeh have us, aye?"
"If we're done with the dramatics," Ghost chimed in, drawing attention back to the now plated take-away. "Foods going cold."
And, as the 141 finally settled onto the sofas with their plates - turning on that film Johnny had been yapping on about wanting to watch for weeks, it didn't slip past you that the usually-brooding Lieutenant had given you his share of the prawn crackers.
Perhaps Price wasn't the only softie when it came to his teammates being upset...
---------------
Hi, all! Beanie here!
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I also post sneak peaks of my writings ahead of time 🤭
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You had worked beside Price for well over three years now, following him across the world on countless missions. In fact, you started off as a nobody. Barely a kill to your name, and then the troops started to lose numbers, and all of a sudden you were forced to learn too fast and instead fight to survive rather than win.
And then he came along— Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, though you secretly nicknamed him “pretty boy” and not in a good way.
Still, you’ve been with Price for three years, so how come he’s still better than you?
However, when he gets injured for the first time, you instinctively take it upon yourself to haul him all the way to exfil, his limp body hanging on your back, blood dripping from his leg and leaving a smearing mess.
“Sorry- I— didn't mean—“ He coughs harshly as he holds onto you, feeling guilty of his slip up as you now march through the uneven land.
“It’s fine.” You say quietly in response, because truthfully your anger has simmered down since you heard his voice falter over the comms. Price barely got an answer in before you announced your change of action.
You stop halfway through, finding an abandoned settlement before you continue your journey. He’s settled on a worn couch, the soft sounds of clatter as you look around for any clean clothes or other things to help. Eventually you manage to get some clean water, bringing it over as you start the routine of caring for his wound. The gash is rather deep, and it takes you careful precision to pack the gauze properly and wrap it after.
“Ow..” He groans as you hoist him up and let him lean on your body, continuing the way. “I shouldn’t have moved forward and risked that- I could’ve—“
“You gave Price the opportunity to enter and get what he needed. The choice you made brought a great reward.. besides, you’ll heal quickly.” You don't mention how when you had been stabbed deep in your leg, no one came back to get you. Who looks for the unskilled soldier in charge of practically just keeping a good eye? You dragged yourself out of that hell with injuries that could’ve had you discharged forever.
“Thanks to you, I will.” He murmurs, voice close to your ear as he leans heavily against you, wincing every time he moves the leg too much. “I'm not going to lie.. I thought you hated me.”
That gets something out of you, close to a scoff, but more of a snort. “Trust me, I do.”
That makes him chuckle too, now putting in the effort to push himself for each step too. “Then why’d you run to help me? You could’ve let someone else come.”
“I’m not stupid— I don't leave soldiers behind. Besides, Price likes you too much, I can't let you die out on him.” You make sure Kyle gets back safely, right beside him in the helicopter all the way back to base, even then you escort him to the infirmary too. It’s annoying how easily he worms into people’s hearts, practically sneaking inside like it’s infiltration.
Given your initial disliking for the newer Sergeant, you found yourself in Gaz's company often. He catches you on your way too and from Price's office. It can be argued that you started the friendship, following up on his healing once or twice. Once the spring got back in his step, he's spending all his free time with you.
Meals? "Save you a seat, mate."
Training? "Fancy a go? Gotta make sure I can still beat ye."
He catches you working late? "Let me take some o' this off your plate. You work too hard anyway."
He did find his way into your heart, but not just from the quality time togther. He's sweet, validates your thoughts and feelings, voices your concerns to the 141 when you're unsure. He sees you. Sees you the way you spent the last three years wishing your Captain did. It's strange; this guy you once saw as nothing more than a workplace rival was now ingrained in your heart. He's cute, admittedly. Smart, funny, kind, and a beast in the field.
"I never properly thanked you."
His comment breaks the long silence that had fallen upon you both at the late hour. You're on a stakeout, already two days into the week-long operation and fell into comfortable silence watching a nearby building that intel believes is being used as a secret Koni base.
"For what?"
"Saving my arse that day." You turn, meeting his eyes to find them and his smile softer than you're used to. "Didn't expect you to come back for me. An' stayin' with me after? Meant the world."
Your head tilts. To you, leaving no man behind is the bare minimum. Sure, you didn't have to literally hold his hand the whole ride back to base, but you also didn't dare to let go.
"Got your back, Garrick. No matter what happens."
"Please, just Kyle is fine." He offers you a bite from the granola bar he'd been snacking on. "Here. Gotta take care of Cap's favorite."
You scoff. "Thought you were the favorite."
"Compared to you? Tha's like comparing a spark to a firework, Luv."
He motions to the bar once more and you lean forward to take a small bite, maintaining eye contact. You didn't mean to come off flirty, but you don't deny the way he nibbles on his bottom lip under your gaze is pretty damn cute.
"You think that highly of me?"
"We all do." His eyes move between yours and the granola bar -- or maybe, your lips -- seemingly unsure of where to look. "You're not in the dirt as often as we are, sure, but you do twice as much behind the scenes. We'd be lost without you."
Your own smile grows at his words. You did feel undervalued considering all you've accomplished in such a short amount of time. Then with the creation of Task Force 141, you're not even a member. You just 'help out' sometimes.
"Thanks, Kyle," you say earnestly. "I needed to hear that."
"Of course, Luv."
Comfortable silence returns, only Gaz scoots a little closer to you. It's already past midnight and sleep was surely calling your name. Before you can ask his preference on taking the first shift, Gaz is wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. His arm lingered, protective, like he planned to pull you closer as you relaxed.
"I've got you this time, Luv." He smiles.
"Since when do you call me 'luv'?"
He only shrugs. "Once I was sure you stopped hating me enough to let me get away with it."
You roll your eyes at the tease. Truly, you don't think that hatred was genuine. You were just jealous that he was so quick to recieve the praise you were after. Gaz being the one to start giving you that praise quickly rewired the way you thought about him.
"Ugh. I should've let you bleed," you groan, though it was clear Gaz understood you didn't mean those words when he let a little giggle slip through his pursed lips.
"You wouldn't," he jokes back before softening once more. "That's why I like you. Honestly? You carryin' me like I weighed nothing was the most attractive thing you've ever done."
You snort, much like how you did that day you carried him to safety. "Shut up."
