Alejandro who would watch you sway to music as you washed the dishes, humming the lyrics, focused on the task at hand. He’d come up behind you, placing his hands on your hips. It was almost like his hands were meant to be there; snug on either side of you, warmth radiating off his body as he smiled softly, swaying to the music with you.
“No te importa que me una a vosotros, ¿verdad?” (You don’t mind if I join you, do you?) He’d whisper softly in your ear, his penetrating, deep voice filling your left ear.
You’d eventually reach the last dish to clean, Alejandro’s forehead on your shoulder, still swaying softly with you. He’d take in your scent; the smell of the laundry detergent lingering on your clothing, your signature perfume you put on every day, the natural smell of your body. He loved it, and he loved you.
You turned around, looking into his eyes. Copper, sage, and sweet, golden honey. They weren’t just brown; they were earthy, a deep chocolate that would linger on your tongue, that you’d smell in a different room, the bitterness and sweet aftertaste so, so charming.
He took your hand, his smile deepens with affection. You dance around your kitchen, spinning, small steps in sync with his, your eyes going from his hair, inky, straight strands falling onto his forehead. To his lips, twisted into a sweet smile, his white teeth glistening under the light.
“Te quiero, my dear.” (I love you, my dear.)
“Yo también te quiero, Alejandro.” (I love you too, Alejandro.)
John Price who came home and saw his pretty fiancée cleaning the living room, blankets nearly finished in the dryer, candles lit, the big 75’ TV off, floor vacuumed without a trace of a crumb. You looked up at him, whom was watching you with a smile on his face, arms crossed and his icy, gunmetal blue eyes. John took off his hat, setting it down beside him. Short, chestnut brown hair a bit disheveled from his hat.
“I see you’ve been workin hard. Thank you, hon.” His voice was hoarse, but sincere.
You give him a smile, eyes tired, cheeks flushed from the lifting and moving you did. The dryer beeps downstairs in the basement, your face relaxing. “I’m gonna go get the blankets.”
He nods, saying nothing else. John opened your pantry, lined with canned goods, heads, and sweets. He was looking for something specific, though deciding on a few select candies. Ones that were rich with chocolate, strong flavors that would satisfy your long day of cleaning. He pops a bag of popcorn, turning on your favorite movie on the big TV you paid for, sitting on the couch you’ve had for years that has never failed to comfort you.
The soft patting of your feet up the stairs makes his smile deepen. He pours the popcorn into a glass bowl, sitting on the couch and waiting for you, snacks in hand.
“The blankets are so warm, it’ll be really nice..” You look at the set up he’s got, walking a bit slower. You smile deeply—
“Figured you’d like this after you cleaned the whole house, yeah?”
It was a small gesture, but it was enough for your heart to be filled with joy and love. The warm, soft gray blanket you had just pulled out of the dryer covered the both of you, a strong, long arm coming out to pull you in closer. As you watched your movie, John watched you in his arms. Smiling, calm, and happy. And it made it all worth it, over and over again. His soon-to-be wife, cuddled up in his arms, and nobody was going to hurt you there.
Gaz has always found himself to be a little more quiet than the rest. It’s not something that is a big deal, or that he’s insecure about, he’s just always noticed that whilst his friends, teammates, and acquaintances were talking, laughing and sipping on their drinks a mile a minute, he was sitting or standing, watching a tv, maybe on his phone, every once in a while someone would strike up a conversation, though it never lasted all that long.
When he met you, yes he was still reserved, obviously opening up a bit more. But his love language was small, kind gestures like a candy you had mentioned you liked, being on the counter after his grocery run, or a new pair of tights after you’d accidentally hooked yours on a thorn.
He’d notice small things about you, like how your hair would grow and grow, booking you an appointment to a hairdresser to get a trim. He’d notice the fact that you haven’t eaten today, making you a nice little lunch.
So when he made you upset on a particularly bad day, he apologized, which was enough for you. After work, all you wanted to do was shower and watch the new season of your favorite show.
But his apology wasn’t enough for him. That same night, he booked a luxury spa. Did he care it was $168? Not one bit. He woke you up with flowers on your bedside, pretty daisies that were a pale yellow in the middle, milky, soft white petals protruding from the center. He bought you that one game you’ve been wanting. You want it? He’s buying it. He let you pick out clothes, carry your bags, drive you around and take you for a restaurant of your choosing.
“Kyle, why are you doing this?” You asked, a sincere smile on your face.
“I didn’t feel okay even after you accepted my apology, so I wanted to make you happy in another way.”
“Kyle, you didn’t have to—“
“Maybe you think that, but it’s what I felt I had to do.”
Soap who quite literally comes home and is surprised to see you. Every day.
You’re his wife? You, an absolute gem of a human being, a strong, independent, intelligent, fucking gorgeous person, is with him?! You could’ve done SO much better.
He brags about his pretty wife, pride written all over his body. Smiling, chest puffed out, arms crossed.
“She’s jus’ perfect. Never met anyone like ‘er. Patches me up an’ scolds me, but she’s beautiful while doin’ it. She’s damn near perfect.”
He’d ramble on and on about you, never stopping, even if he’s talking to himself now.
Women hitting on him whilst he’s out? Nope. He’s opening his phone up, showing you off to the girl that attempted to flirt with him.
“Yeah, that’s her. She’s perfect.”
“Oh um, sorry I didn’t know you had a girlfr—“
“Actually, she’s my wife.” He was quick to cut the woman off, the phrase “she’s my wife” bouncing off his head and into his heart, making him all giddy inside.
Coming home to you was the best. He’d wrap his arms around you in the tightest hug,
“Aaah! I missed ya so much, you know that?!” He’d smoosh his face into you, breathing you in and then going to kiss your cheek, down to your pretty lips.
Ghost who would let you take care of him, loving when you scolded him for not doing it himself.
Ghost has never really thought of himself, throwing away all of his life at an attempt to help something that wasn’t guaranteed to do any good.
Coming home to you after a long day, he’s covered in grime. Bloody mask and uniform, mud drying and hardening onto his clothes.
“Evenin, hon.” He’d say, gruff voice greeting you.
You turned back to look at him, only for your eyes to widen. “Shower, now.”
“That’s an understandable reaction.” He’d quickly respond, but to his surprise, you followed him in.
“What’re you doin?” He’d question.
You took off his mask, inky, sticky, eyeblack smeared on it. Taking a damp towel, you wiped it off, giving you easier access to where exactly his wounds were.
“You have got to be more careful out there, Ghost! Look at you, you are covered in blood.”
“Still, look at your face.” You cupped his cheeks, his face cold and your hands warming them. “You are covered in bruises and cuts.”
He stayed silent, letting you pat at the wounds before putting a thick, white ointment on that stung a bit, then covering him in bandages.
“There. Now you promise me to be more careful! And take a shower…Promise me that too.”
“I promise, honey.” He said, looking down at you with deep amber eyes.
He watches you walk out of the bathroom, a soft smile creeping onto his lips. You were adorable like that, scolding him to no end. He chuckled a bit.
“Oh man. I’m in deep now.”
