The Couch

The Couch

Your official job is as a psychiatrist, but not a single one of the men who visit you care about that. They don't care about you at all. They just want... your cozy damn couch. Every time you walk in the room, there is a big burly man sleeping or lounging on it. Rarely, it is a woman. This time, there are three of them fighting over it. You sigh and submit a request for three more couches. When the supply officer asks why, you claim it is for group sessions. He sends one couch over. It is almost as comfortable as the original, and they take to it quickly.

You stop in your tracks the day you spot a KorTac man sitting nervously on the couch. So far, only Price's team and his associated strays have taken advantage of the open couch. You smile briefly before moving to sit at your desk.

"I'm here if you want to talk, but the couch is open to whomever wants a nap or to relax. No talking required." He nods, slightly more relaxed, and you focus on your computer. When you look up later, you see he has laid down and fallen asleep, his soft snores filling the room. After that, you send in another request and another for more couches and a couple of reclining chairs. You are denied. They tell you to just bring in folding chairs. You decide to use your paycheck and bring in something more comfortable than folding chairs.

The next week, you are struggling to get a reclining chair down the hall as silently as possible when you freeze, a chill running down your back. Turning, you see Ghost standing only a foot away, silently watching with his arms crossed.

"I got a new chair." Your bright smile seems to just bounce off his broad chest, but you pay no mind to him, turning back to the task at hand. You get a few feet further and glance back to say something witty, but Ghost is gone. Another few feet, and you are bodily lifted by a set of strong arms before Ghost and König pick up the chair and carry it to your office with no effort. You thank them and ask if they would be willing to help you with one more thing since they are here. Rolling their eyes, they follow you.

Proudly, you show them the three large boxes that you bought. The men are not amused. Their body language switches from annoyed to almost angry when you pick up one of the boxes. König nearly tears it from your hands, and Ghost swiftly grabs the second box. Holding up your hands, you wait until they storm inside to pick up the third box and follow them.

It takes most of the day for the stuffing in the giant floor pillows to fluff up from being vacuum packed in the boxes, so you take the time to rearrange the room. The next day, opening the door after lunch, you spot no less than ten men and one woman lounging in various spots around the room.

A few weeks later and Soap asks if you can requisition another chair because he is annoyed that Captain Price is constantly snoring away in the only one. You shake your head sadly.

"Sorry, bud. I can't get another one for a while. Too expensive." He nods but puzzles over your wording for the next few days before filing it in the back of his mind.

It takes another couple months for you to save up, but you do bring in a second chair. Soap nearly dances when he sees it.

"I tried to ask supply for one of these for my office, but they had no idea what I was talking about."

"Oh, they wouldn't. They deem my request too frivolous every time." You tap away at the computer, only half paying attention to Soap.

"Then, how did you convince them?"

"Didn't. Had to go get it myself." The silence that falls over the room is far more tense than usual.

"You, you bought these for us? Like with your own money?" You sigh. Here is the conversation you were hoping to avoid. Turning to Soap, you see every person in the room staring at you, trying to work out what is happening.

"Yes, of course. Nothing but the best for my patients. I am the psychiatrist for KorTac and 141, after all."

"What?! We just, we thought you were just an officer with a comfortable couch. But you're a god damn psychiatrist?!" You can see several edging toward the door, nervously.

"Yep. Ghost, please wait just a moment." He hesitates with his hand on the doorknob. "Think about how long you've been napping in here. Have I ever overstepped? Four years I have been assigned to the 141, and not once have I updated your files. Luckily, I can claim patient-doctor confidentiality, or I would be out of a job."

"So, you haven't been doing your job at all?" This comes from Captain Price, who looks confused.

"Oh, I have been. If you don't mind sharing, what is the thing your last psychiatrist kept trying to force you to do, Captain?"

"Fuckin golf. Claimed it would be a good stress relief like I want to be a lazy damn officer."

You nod and glance around. "Ghost, what was your recommendation?"

"God damn yoga." You hear Soap snort and give him a small smile.

"Mmhmm, not something I imagine you would ever be interested in. And you König, if you don't mind?"

His voice is quiet but strong, "Guided meditation."

"Every one of those is rooted in the idea that you need to rest. My job was to find a way to make it happen, and I wasn't keen on being stonewalled and hated by the people I work with. So, I left the door open and passed a rumor around that there was a mythical comfortable couch. Sort of a build it and they will come." You pause and gather your courage. "As I have said from the beginning, talking is optional. Naps and resting are welcome. That's the way it will stay as long as I am here."

Turning back to your computer, you submit another supply request, worded slightly different from the last. A bigger office for more group sessions so both teams can be present. The silence in the room is less tense, but you don't look up from your screen, not wanting to see how many left, knowing who you are now. To your surprise, when you stand up to stretch, every spot is still occupied.

The next week, you get your denial and an inspection scheduled as you haven't been logging apppointments since posted there, and your constant requests have been noticed. The stress shows in the tenseness of your jaw and the furrow between your eyes, but you don't say a word to anyone.

The day of your inspection comes, and you brace yourself for invasive questions and the likely anger from whomever shows up when you refuse to answer those questions. You hint three time and then outright tell the lounging men to leave just minutes before the scheduled appointment, frantically trying to tidy up and make it look like you have adults as patients instead of sleep away camp.

"What is goin' on, lass?" Soap asks lazily from the floor pillow he refuses to vacate.

"I- I have an inspection, like right now." That gets their attention.

"Och aye! We will clear ou-" A knock at the door interrupts him. You take a deep breath, forcing your emotions under a smile.

"Enter." A man confidently walks in, faltering when he sees so many eyes on him.

"I am here to inspect your work, Captain. You were informed as to the time?" Standing, you salute him, then motion him to one of the seats.

"Yes, my apologies, Lieutenant Colonel. This group session ran a little late. If you could excuse us, everyone. We can pick this back up tomorrow. Hopefully." They all stand and salute the Lieutenant Colonel before walking out. He stalks to the chair in front of your desk.

"You will be lucky to make it to the end of the day if I have anything to say about it. You have clearly squandered resources buying all of this furniture, and there isn't a single update to any personnel files. Your explanation better be damn good, Captain."

You meet his gaze squarely before answering. "I am assigned to a unit whose work is often above top secret. I do not take notes on what is said in this room. I have found that doing so makes patients uncomfortable and, therefore, less likely to relax."

"That doesn't explain why you are not charting recommendations." You lean back and pull out a paper from a drawer.

"These are the recommendations previously listed in the files of various patients who are now under my command. Almost all of them fall into the same category: relax. So when I reviewed the files, I notated in the general team file for The 141 that relaxing activities would be undertaken as needed. The KorTac file gained the same note when they were switched to my purvue. There is no need to update individual files when I do my utmost to only hold group sessions, again for comfort to the patients."

He sits back, clearly not convinced, but at least pondering it a moment. "Why did you have KorTac transferred to your care? They were previously under another, frankly more competent, psychiatrist."

"Was that psychiatrist able to get them to open up? Honestly, I am curious if the team even showed up to their sessions by how sparse their files are. Colonel König has been here for six years, and his entire file is less than a dozen pages. The same could be said for nearly all of the KorTac team. There are notations in most of these files that KorTac and The 141 can not be in the same room for more than five minutes at a time without fighting. Yet nearly every day members of both teams are here for upwards of an hour a day, and they haven't had any fights outside of here in months." You snap your jaw shut, noticing the slightest of movement behind the Lieutenant Colonel. You stand and salute.

"Corporal, you've already saluted me. Sit down."

"She is saluting me, not you, Lieutenant Colonel." Colonel König salutes you back as the Lieutenant Colonel grouses about being interrupted before he turns and pales. He hurriedly stands and renders his own salute, which is returned with deliberate slowness.

"Colonel, if I may?" At his nod, you continue. "I did not mean to speak so flippantly of your records. I should have guarded their contents more closely. You have my deepest apologies." His eyes lock with yours, and you could swear he is either smirking or smiling.

"It is of no consequence. I am glad to know that you feel such concern, despite the public nature that such personnel files often suffer during inquests such as these." He pulls up another chair from who knows where and sits just behind the Lieutenant Corporal. "I will monitor to ensure sensitive information about need to know operations is not disclosed."

You nod, "Yes, Colonel. Understood."

The Lieutenant Colonel shifts uncomfortably with the gaze at his back. "Circling back to my first concern. The wasting of British coffers on unnecessary seating is clear gross misconduct. You will need to return all except for the standard single couch immediately."

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel. When can you send supply over to fetch the other couch?" He looks surprised, as though he expected more of a fight.

"I will have to confer with them to see when they will be able to take so many large items."

"Hmm? Oh no, only the two couches, desk, computer, and the chair you sit in were issued. The rest I brought in at my own expense to better facilitate having over a dozen soldiers and officers in here at the same time. I do ask to keep the original couch. It is the only one long enough to fit many of the men I treat." He looks shocked.

"You furnished the rest?" You can see him fighting not to look around at the room, hand fidgeting on the desk.

"Of course. Patients come first in my care. Every request I have put in has been denied since the second couch. The number of patients I see has more than doubled with the strays that Captain Price and Colonel König have dragged with them into my office. We are running out of time today. Would you like to meet again next week, or do you have the information needed to close out this inquiry?" The Lieutenant Colonel seems shocked.

"But I have more questions. And you need to answer them."

"I understand that, which is why I am offering another meeting. But you scheduled just one time block for this, and I have others coming in right after. The noise he made was pure frustration, and he let loose without thinking.

"Listen here you cunt! You will not get out of this by claiming an appointment. You will answer my questions until I am satisfied and have enough to properly fuck you over the way you deserve! I-!" A hand claps onto his shoulder, making him wince in pain.

"Lieutenant Colonel Riggs. That is not conduct becoming an officer. You will cease your screaming and see yourself out. Your lack of preparation and knowledge does not permit you to abuse officers of a lower rank. You will join me in my office while we discuss this further." The icy tone has you wincing in sympathy. When the door shuts behind them, you nearly collapse on your desk in relief. After a long moment of fighting the urge to cry, you jolt when a hand rubs your back.

"Ghost, why are you still in my office?"

"Support?" You grunt before looking up at him.

"Thank you. Now, I'm going to have a good cry, so if you need to leave to avoid it, now is a good time." Instead of leaving, he makes you stand and walk to the couch where he tugs you to his chest.

"Cry all you want, Luv. I'm here for you, just like you were for me all those times these past few years."

I was quite literally just searching for this one. So glad I found it again!

The Boy Who Lived

Reader X Draco

Summary: A few months after the war, Draco gets attacked and left barely alive in St. Mungo’s. They refuse to treat him or take his money. You have a few things to say about that. 

A/n: Look at me writing! And I’ve really been meaning to write something like this for quite some time because it is so soft and fluffy with only mild angst if you squint. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy and let me know what you think! I miss talking with y’all. 

“He… he’s gonna be okay, right?”

My heart feel when I heard the news. No matter how much I loathed the youngest Malfoy, hearing that he was in St. Mungo’s because some ne’er do well thought that the boy deserved to be tortured to almost death for what his family had done. My eyebrows furrowed as I parted from the small group of Alumni Gryffindors and watched the city behind the windowpane. I could hear the soft murmurs of Harry Hermione and Ron discussing it.

Keep reading

I just love cowboy shit

That Is Some Wild West Shit Right There

When a mission goes of the rails and Y/n gets separated from the rest of the task force he is forced to use the skills he learned growing up in his home town to get back to his team.

Task Force 141 x Male!Cowboy!Reader

—————————————————————————————————————

“This has got to be the stupidest place to build some sort of evil science base.” Y/n hissed into the coms, back pressed up against a massive crate.

What Y/n assumed to be a lab was built practically on the side of a cliff. On one side of the lab you had a mess of trees that was practically just a jungle, and on the other a sheer drop off that led to one of the angriest looking rivers Cowboy had ever seen.

“Relax, we’ve almost got the last of the files downloaded.” Ghost eased the antsy male. Y/n grumbled a bit.

There were a few more beats of silence before a blaring alarm sounded, Y/n cringed at the noise. “Relax, huh?”

As a group of enemy soldiers went to run into the building Y/n stood up and opened fire on them to take the heat off the rest of the team and keep them from getting cornered in there.

“Y’all get yer asses out here now!”

Ghost was first out the door, sliding behind a box on the opposite side of the court yard for cover. The others weren’t far behind, but Y/n was on the complete other side of the yard. Trapped between the armed group of terrorists and the sheer drop off.

“Cowboy, how copy?” Price’s voice buzzed in the coms. Y/n ducked back down as a few of the soldiers turned their attention onto him.

Gaz threw out two smoke bombs, offering a bit of cover. Y/n took his chance and darted to another crate a bit farther away, but far to close to the cliff for his own comfort.

“Just peachy.” He hissed, ducking under the onslaught of bullets that rained down onto his crate.

“What the hell is that? Wait—“

“Get down!”

Y/n was able to cover his head just in time as a loud explosion shook the area. The crate he was behind blasted back in to him, shattering and sending his disoriented form flying back.

“Cowboy!” Soap shouted, breaking from his cover, but he was to late to reach his friend.

Y/n grabbed desperately at the edge of the cliff, but it was no use. Task Force 141 was forced to watch in horror as one of their own plummeted into the raging waters below.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Y/n’s eyes opened blearily. His head was pounding and everything was fuzzy, but he forced himself up onto his elbows.

His eyes adjusted a bit and he took in the area around him. The room he was in was quite homey. Beautifully woven tapestries hung on the walls and intricately crafted pottery decorated almost every space. The male was laid out on a woven mat, all of his things sat nearby.

The h/c haired soldier checked his body, cursing when he found the damaged tracker. There was no way his squad would be able to find his location now. Where ever the hell he was.

Heavy footsteps sounded from the hall, and a middle aged man walked into the room. His face was kind and worn with smile lines, and he appeared to be of some sort of Hispanic decent. His smile widened when he saw Y/n was awake.

“Ah! My friend, we were worried for you. Fishermen found you in river.” The man spoke, his voice heavy yet still welcoming. “I saw the patch on your arm, you are American?”

Cowboy nodded. “Thank you for bringing me into your home, I could never repay such an act of kindness.”

The man shook his head, waving his hands in front of him. “It is you who I could never repay. Your service is the ultimate payment.”

A soft smile graced the southern males lips. “Then perhaps you could answer some questions?”

Y/n explained everything. The terrorists, the explosion, the river. The older man listened intently.

“We were supposed to go to La Ciudad Perdida after we completed our task for extraction in two days, but I don’t even know where I even am.”

At the mention of the city the man, who Y/n had learned to be named Mateo, perked up. “Our fishermen found you not long ago, and the city is not to far. Come, I will see if I can help you.”

At the mention of the slight hope Cowboy was quick to grab what he still had, following Mateo from his rather large home. As they walked out the older man leaned down and whispered something to a young boy who was quick to scurry off.

“My village does not have vehicles like trucks and jeeps, but there may be another way for you to travel.” Mateo spoke. “La Ciudad Perdida his eight miles west of here, a long journey on foot. However…”

The boy from before returned, rounding Mateo’s home with a massive black horse in tow. The horse moved with a sense of elegance and pride to it, like it had complete confidence in every step it took.

Mateo smiled at the beast before turning to Cowboy, who was still watching the stallion in awe.

“Can you ride?”

Cowboy turned to look at Mateo, eyes shining like new born stars. “I have my whole life.”

The older gentleman smiled. “Good. Than Guerrero will be your mount. He his unflinching at the sound of gunfire, he shall run for you bravely.”

“Warrior…” Y/n whispered the meaning of the stallions name to himself, stroking the giants forelock. “Mateo, how can I repay you for this?”

He waved the h/c haired male off. “I already tell you, your service pays for it all. Besides, I am wealthy man. I have many horses.” The old Hispanic’s eyes shined with mischief.

Y/n laughed, clasping Mateo’s hand in his own and giving it a firm shake. “I will not forget this, my friend.”

Y/n pulled himself up into Guerrero’s saddle, taking a moment to adjust his gun and equipment so the weight was more even. With a final wave to Mateo, Y/n rode off into the direction of La Ciudad Perdida.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Y/n did is best to keep Guerrero at a trot the whole ride. As much as he wanted to get there as fast as he could he had no idea what kind off situation he would be riding into, and he wanted both him and the stallion to have plenty of energy when they did arrive.

“You know, I always used to imagine doing this.” Cowboy chuckled to nobody but himself and the dark horse. “Riding into battle on a horse. Maybe it seemed silly, but I always thought that would be so badass.”

Guerrero snorted, shaking his head in response. Y/n chuckled, patting the stallion’s neck.

It wasn’t long before the outline of the city became prominent against the horizon. Y/n couldn’t help but smile that they had made it in time.

“Guerrero, I promise to you I’ll have you taken to my ranch back home where you will be treated like a king.” The southern male promised the horse, rubbing his neck. Y/n felt impossibly giddy about the fact he was about to be reunited with his teammates.

Once the city began to take shape the stallions steps paused for a moment, ears forward as he listened intently. It was only a moment before Y/n heard it too. The sound of raging gun fire, it was without a doubt coming from the city.

“That’s not good.” Y/n kicked Guerrero into a gallop. “Hyah!”

The black stallion whinnied, charging towards the city at impossible speeds.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Soap’s back was pressed flush against the truck he was hiding behind, Gaz right next to him as gun fire rained down over their heads.

After watching Y/n disappear into the raging water shit hit the fan. Ghost had went on a rampage, slaughtering every terrorist he could get his hands on.

Gaz had tried to find Cowboy’s location using his tracker, but the thing had obviously been damaged or destroyed in the river. That alone ebbed at Soap’s hope that he’d ever see the male again, but Soap knew better than that.

Cowboy was fighter. He was harder than nails with the kind of spirit that would put even the most wild of animals to shame. Soap knew if anyone could survive it would be him.

But that was counting on the fact that the rest of them would make it out. Whatever was left of the terrorist group had managed to regroup and followed them to their extraction point.

They had been caught unaware, and now all four of them were pinned down, unable to break from the cover long enough to wrap around behind the group.

Ghost cursed as he ducked his head back behind the crate he was using for cover next to where Gaz and Soap were. Price wasn’t far off, hidden behind his own rather large crate.

The most infuriating part about this whole thing is that there were only six terrorists. The task force without a doubt had them outmatched, but they had managed to get the drop on them.

“This is fucking insane. How many rounds could they possibly have.” Gaz cursed as the bullets continued to rain down.

Soap shook his head, reloading his own gun. “I don know, but I’m about sick of this.”

The shooting faltered for a moment, and the terrorists began shouting things Soap couldn’t make out. In the beat of silence a new noise was heard. It sounded like the beat of hooves on pavement, and it had the group leaning a bit to see what it was.

A hulking black mass was speeding down the street of the abandoned city, atop it sat a figure with a assault rifle poised and ready. The four could not believe their eyes as their teammate came charging in, giving a wicked laugh.

“Holy shit, Cowboy!”

“That is some Wild West shit right there.”

Y/n aimed his gun at the group of terrorists, the angle he came in at giving him the perfect opening. His heart thudded with wild adrenaline as he gave a loud war cry, littering their bodies with bullets.

The group didn’t know what had hit them.

Guerrero charged forward bravely, his ear hardly twitching as Y/n rained down hell onto the group. When the last of the terrorists had fallen Soap and Gaz were the first to move from their spots, followed closely by Ghost and Price.

Guerrero slid to a stop and Cowboy leaped from his saddle, Soap enveloping him into one of the tightest hugs he’d ever experienced.

“Ah, you amadan! I knew you’d be alright!” The Scottish man bellowed, grinning from ear to ear as crushed the h/c haired male in a hug.

Gaz was next to reach him, throwing an arm over his shoulders and ruffling Y/n’s hair affectionately.

Y/n ribs felt like they were cracking from their crushing force, but his smile was wide. He was ecstatic to be back among his teammates.

Once Soap reluctantly released the male Price reached up to ruffle his hair for himself, grumbling about Y/n giving him a heart attack.

“Yeah, I suppose I don’t want to give grandpa any more scares.” Y/n teased, giggling as he earned himself a playful slap to the side of the head from his captain.

A large arm wrapped it’s was around Cowboy’s shoulders, giving him a light squeeze. The male looked up, meeting Ghost’s steely gaze.

“Glad you didn’t die.” The masked male said, giving him a pat on the shoulder before letting him go. Y/n smiled, Ghost wasn’t one for public affections, so that alone was equal to Y/n being swept off his feet and praised from the mountain tops.

“Have I got a story for you guys.”

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

“Thanks, Ricky. I really appreciate this man. Alright, talk to you later.” Y/n hung up his phone, pocketing it as he went back to towel drying his hair. Ricky was Y/n’s transport guy. The man in charge of getting Y/n’s horses and live stock from one place to another.

And thanks to Ricky, Guerrero was now on his way to Y/n’s ranch. Where Y/n was sure that the stallion would get the full royal treatment.

Y/n tossed his towel into the hamper, opening the door to his bedroom. Price and Ghost were already there waiting for him.

Price was sitting on Cowboy’s bed, leaned up against the wall and reading a book. He sported a grey T-shirt and pair of loose black joggers, his usual hat sitting on the bed side table.

Ghost was leaned up against the head board, a few pillows stacked behind him for comfort. The masked male wore a black tank top and dark grey sweats, his sleeve of tattoos also on display.

Y/n shuddered a bit, he had a few tattoos of his own. The emblem of his ranch on his left shoulder blade and a few more on his legs, but the sight of Ghost’s sleeve just made his heart flip. He’d have to get one of his own soon.

Cowboy made his way over to his bed, crawling over Ghost to sit closer to the wall. Once he settled against the pillows he huffed, throwing his legs over Price’s lap. The Captain only chuckled, shaking his head before going back to his book. Though, one of his hands stayed resting on the males thigh, his thumb drawing small circles into it.

Before Y/n could get fully situated Ghost reached out, tugging the shorter male in with an arm around his shoulder. Y/n’s head hit Ghost’s chest and he looked up to meet Ghost’s gaze, but the other wasn’t looking at him.

Cowboy knew Ghost needed this. Needed to feel him, needed to hold him, needed to know he was still here. Y/n could only imagine the storm of emotions they had all felt watching him topple over a cliff and disappear into the raging waters.

The southern male hummed a bit, reaching for the remote to get the true crime show pulled up. Now all they were missing was—

The door to Y/n’s room burst open, causing the three to jump a bit as Soap and Gaz tumbled into the room, each holding a bowl of popcorn.

“Alright we’re ready! Sorry it took so long, someone kept burning theirs.” Gaz shot Soap a look, making it clear who the guilty subject was.

Soap stuck his tongue out at Gaz before fumbling his way into the bed. He somehow managed to get between Y/n and the wall, laying his head on the males hard stomach. He gave the country boy a grin, offering him some popcorn which he happily accepted.

Gaz huffed when Soap took the best spot before plopping himself down by Y/n’s leg, resting his head on the thigh that Price wasn’t rubbing circles into.

Now that everyone was settled Y/n started the new episode of the show and everyone soon became engrossed into it.

With all of the bodies piled around and on top of him Y/n’s body was pleasantly warm, he snuggled back a bit into Ghost’s hold at the cozy feeling. Ghost’s eyes cut over to look down at the h/c haired male.

Ghost leaned down a bit, lips brushing the top of Y/n’s head through his mask. He turned back to look at the TV before Y/n could look up at him.

But Y/n didn’t need to look up, a smile crossed his face, he knew. He brought a hand up to rest on Soap’s head, playing with his fluffy Mohawk as he watched the old murder mysteries play across the screen.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜

Phew, there you go my lovelies! Hopefully this didn’t feel to unrealistic, but I’ve always imagined the riding in on a horse scenario ever since I thought of Cowboy Reader in the military lol

I’m planning on doing a little 4th July special for Cowboy Reader too so be looking out for that!

As always, hope you enjoyed!

- Author~Chan out ✌️

Staying In

König has only been there a few weeks when he overhears Ghost and Soap discussing plans after work.

"Mind if I tag along? I'd love a drink at a local place." König asks innocently enough, feeling like he has built up a bit of a friendship with them.

They shift nervously before Soap blurts out, "Sorry mate. You're a bit intimidating. We are going to pick up girls tonight, so you can't go." König is hurt by their honesty, but it isn't the first time he's been told he's too big for something.

"Oh, right. Yeah, I just want a drink, anyway. I'm fine sitting it out. No worries." He stiffens his posture to hide his embarassment and walks into the nearby rec room. He stops in his tracks when he sees you draped across the couch, settling in to watch a movie. He debates leaving, but you pat the couch, not even glancing at him. When he walks over, you lift your legs to give him room.

"Wanna stay in and watch the telly, König? I've got a bootleg of that new action film that comes out next week. Not even in theaters, yet." You turn your head to smile up at him. "Got popcorn and spiked lemonade, too. Just don't tell anyone. They don't think I drink since I won't go out to the bar."

"Uhh, yeah. That sounds way better than the bar." He sits carefully next to you, trying to scrunch up at the end of the couch. You set your legs across his lap and hit play.

"Relax, I don't bite unless you ask for it." You shoot him a wink as he coughs in surprise before turning to watch the movie. Slowly, he relaxes into the couch, snacking alongside you and enjoying the movie despite some of the weird cuts in it. When it ends, he happily chats with you about all the things they did wrong and the few things they got right. It's nearly midnight when Soap and Ghost stumble in, having struck out like usual.

"What's this, then? Gettin all cozy with yer teammate?" Ghost sneers at both of you. At least, you think he does under his mask. You just shrug.

"We work together. We're supposed to be cozy, idiot. Strike out at the bar again, then?" He shrugs off the question, unwilling to admit anything.

"Ah, well. Good night, guys. I'm gonna go crash. It was nice talking with you, König. I never get to watch movies with the team anymore." He acknowledges you with a wave, leaving to his own quarters at the same time.

The next weekend is the same and the next and the next. König doesn't even bother asking to go out again, realizing how much more fun it is to relax with you. By the third movie, he sits and rubs your feet. The fourth was full of jump scares and had you pressed into his side. You don't remember the fifth because you spent the entire time laying on his chest, kissing him. The sixth movie was an official date, and you let him take you back to his quarters. Stumbling out with a satisfied grin the next morning, you ignore the stunned looks on Soap and Ghost.

As König watches you walk away, he decides that being too intimidating to go out to bars was the best thing that ever happened to him.

ME

Me: *does something to decrease my anxiety*

My anxiety: you want me to grow?

Me: N O !

My anxiety: ok, I grow!!!!

Damn okay. Amazing

TAKE IT OR LEAVE HIM ᡣ𐭩

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & reader

synopsis: Ghost forgets your birthday

tag: slight slight angst

Hectic doesn’t begin to describe Ghost’s schedule, yet you accepted him with open arms. He needs to cut your dinner short because he’s needed back at the base? You nod with a smile full of understanding. He forgets a few chores and groceries because he’s piled up with tasks? You kiss his forehead and tell him it’s fine, and you just work around it and rush during your office breaks to do those tasks on your own. You’re exhausted from being held back at the office because the client changed their mind during the finalization, but you come home to a pile of dirty dishes and no dinner? You say you understand, washing up and going to bed while feeling your stomach grumble and waking up to wash the previous night’s dishes just to lessen Ghost’s worries.

You had no problem bending backwards just to accommodate him. You entered the relationship knowing about his schedule, so… were you really in any position to complain? 

A few insignificant tasks and miniscule adjustments to your schedule were nothing; never once uttered a complaint because you understood. Why? Because Ghost always finds a way to make it up to you. Sending bouquets when you close a big deal, treating you to a fancy restaurant during your birthday (though he’s mostly never there to celebrate until the end), and gifting you branded things during your anniversaries… so, it was all okay….. ?

Yes, it’s fine if he never shows up for your dinner date because of work. 

Yes, it’s fine that you spend most nights alone. 

Yes, you can clean the house, shop for groceries, do the laundry, and cook for the both of you. 

It was all okay. You were okay with it. You accepted it. You understood. You can do it. You’re fine. It’s all worth it. It’s not worth any trouble. It’s fine—

You snap back and all thoughts stop rushing into your head. Your phone blares an alarm with the words, ‘DATE NIGHT’, flashing on the screen. Right, it’s your birthday and Ghost promised he’d finally make it this time. So, you wore the prettiest dress, applied the most gorgeous (and time-consuming) makeup, and put on the cutest heels (your feet are getting blisters) because you wanted to spend this night with the man you love most on your Earth… who wasn’t by your side right now, but it’s fine. 

The waiter approaches the table, asking you for what seems to be the 6th time that night if your company is coming because they’re about to close. Giving up, you offer an apologetic smile and gather your things. The walk out the restaurant was embarrassing to say the least. Harsh winter air greets your face, your legs and arms trembling as you try to seek warmth from the take-out bag. You didn’t bring a jacket because, well, you thought Ghost would be there with you, but it’s fine.

The apartment door clicks open and a dark hallway awaits you. ‘Ah, he’s not here yet,’ you think to yourself, a pang of disappointment piercing your heart that raised its hope for one night. With a wince and a pained gasp, your heels come undone. Muted footsteps along the wooden floorboards as you strip out your clothes and wash up. You resign the night with your lover nowhere to be found— once again, but it’s fine. 

Morning dawn cracks through your curtains with a familiar arm around your waist and familiar dip on the mattress. You blink your sleepiness away, taking in every detail of your Simon’s face in the morning. Like he has a third sense, he wakes and stares back at you. First smiles of the day are shared between you two but you expected more. Nothing too grand. Maybe an apology and a greeting? Yet the day goes by with receiving neither, but it’s fine. Maybe the next day’s the charm? 

Nothing.

Irritation towards your lover is a rare occurrence with your endless patience and never-ending understanding of his situation. You still held hopes that maybe he’d finally realize his slip-up, but what did you come home to? Dirty dishes. A pile of them. 

“Ah, sweetheart. You’re home,” he kisses your cheek and presses your waist close to him like usual. The scent of whiskey and cigar lingers on his clothes— a scent you usually adore but now only fuels your anger. “Si, what’s this?” you ask, trying to keep your frustration at bay as you point to the sink. “What? Oh, noticed ‘ya didn’t make dinner so I ate what’s ever left,” he answers cooly like there’s nothing wrong.

“... do you mean you ate my lunch for tomorrow?” 

“That yours? Sorry, baby. ‘Ya can jus’ make another one, and one for me.”

You pull away, slapping his face with tears rushing down your face. Ghost looks at you with shock and confusion which angers you further. How can he not realize why you’re mad?

“Woah, woah. What’s wrong, doll?”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT. Oh, my fucking God, Simon. You’re really asking me that?” you run your fingers through your hair, screaming at his face and throwing your purse at him. “What’s wrong?? You tell me! I slave away at this goddamn house. I go to bed with my bones feeling like weights because I keep cleaning after your mess, but it’s fine! Because you were busy, I understood.”

Tension builds in the air as everything you’ve held back poured out of you. “I never complained because I told you I was fine with your schedule when we first started dating. I fucking bend my body backwards and did everything for you LIKE A MAID. And you have the audacity to ask me what’s wrong? You don’t even ask me how my day went. Asking me to cook for you like I’m just a housekeeper? YOU DON’T EVEN DO ANYTHING FOR ME.” You stomp over to his face, glaring with hatred as you spat out your next words. “Just a fucking reminder that I am your girlfriend. I am not here to clean up after you.”

“Did I ask you to?” he snaps back, returning the same vile stare. “You’re whining about working around the house like I asked you to. Let’s be clear that I never forced you to do these shits around the house.”

“You didn’t have to! You just kept piling up dishes and clothes, leaving a messy trail behind you because you know you expect me to do it for you!”

“And did those come for free? I buy you everything you want on anniversaries and birthdays. You act as if you come for cheap,” he scoffs.

"WELL, GUESS WHAT? YOU FUCKING FORGOT IT THIS YEAR,” you finally confess through sobs. Realization dawns upon your lover, evident on the way his face drops. He tries to approach you but you step back.

“I waited for you like a fool because you promised. I-.. I.. had to tell the waiter 5 times that you were coming because they were on the verge of throwing me out. Did you know how embarrassing it was for me? I… I know I shouldn’t have kept my hopes up but I wanted to believe in you, but.. I’m tired.”

Silence blankets you both as every emotion rushes through your heart. Your throat felt raw and your head was getting heavy from all the crying.

“I’m done, Ghost. I’m tired," you whisper. Those words were simple but Ghost knew what lies underneath. You weren't tired of what you did for him. You were tired of him.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: woah, angst again? Anyone surprised? This request has been sitting on my inbox for a while but I have enough free time to answer them, so here we are. I will make a König version if this gets attention. 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

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