John sits up with a frown when he sees you come home. “The hell happened to you?”
“Got caught in the rain.” You're dripping onto the rug and shivering lightly.
“Obviously, I meant what were you doing outside?”
You glance at the bag in your hands. “I forgot some stuff for dinner.”
His expression is more than unhappy as he approaches. “So you went out in a storm to get them?”
“Yes…?”
“Sweetheart, I…” He sighs and drapes a towel over your shoulders, kissing your forehead. “Next time, tell me. I'll get it. Don't need you getting sick. Okay?”
when arranged husband!naoya wants to play fight with his wife.
tags: tw naoya zen'in lol, short short drabble, wife!fem!reader, naoya is HELLA ooc/mischaracterized cuz hes soo fine and i wanna write him but fuck no im NOT writing a romance ft mr-misogyny-and-sa, not dv but they are play fighting, very traditional relationship roles, second person pov (1.0k words)
Naoya Zen'in would not marry a weak woman.
In fact, he wasn't quite keen on marrying any woman—he couldn't stand any woman enough to marry her outside of an arranged situation with intent of creating an heir. However, as the heir of the Zen'in clan, that wasn't exactly a choice.
So came you. A young woman from an up-and-coming clan, powerful in cursed energy and brutal in willpower... but in the same breath, sweet in smile, heart, and soul. He loved every bit of you for it.
Which was not something he ever thought he'd say.
"Woman," he greeted you, fond only in tone and not in words. "Why are you attempting to lift that?" He jerked his head in the direction of the heavy crate you were carrying. It was full of bed- and pillow-sheets, you were carrying them to the bedroom the two of you shared to change them (and for the record, you were not "attempting" to carry it, you were doing so quite well).
"Because I need to change the sheets in our bedchambers? And I can," you mumbled, pausing briefly to face him, confusion colouring your face.
"No," he snapped, stepping towards you, snatching the crate straight out of your hands and storming off to your shared room.
"Naokun," you whined, jogging after him to keep up with his wide strides. Upon entering in the bedroom he tossed down the crate, turning to you, face irritated.
"Don't call me that," he snapped, "I've told you not to call me that."
You giggled softly, laughing at his tiny tantrum at the nickname. You loved calling him that, Naokun. It flowed nicely, as well as showing your reluctant affection for your mean husband, whether it was arranged or not. "Why not? It's so cute," you smiled, reaching a finger out to poke at his cheek, the way you would with a chubby baby.
He snapped, swatting your hand away, even huffier than normal. "Exactly. It's cute—which is, to say, pathetic. I'm twice your strength, woman, at least."
Your eyebrows furrowed. It was annoying, how no matter what your weight was, whether that was in fat or muscle, he was always sure he was stronger than you. "Nuh uh," you huffed, walking past Naoya to crawl into your bed, stretching out like a kitten basking in the sun. "I'm really strong, Naokun, you just don't know 'cuz girls aren't allowed to train as much," you protested.
He stalked over to loom over your bed, one hand pressing down on your stomach, just to watch you squirm. "You can be as strong as you want, I'm still stronger. I'm the heir of the strongest clan in the fucking world."
You shoved at his hand, but it didn't budge. Once more, and still, no give. However, when you actually focused your energy on it, it wasn't hard to move his arm. Like you'd just said—you were strong, especially for a woman in a rather traditional family who was left pretty much untrained.
Naoya's expression was as if he'd seen a ghost.
Disgusted, shocked, horrified, as if the idea of you being able to shove him was almost grotesque. He immediately snapped into a sitting position, elbow on his knee, hand out. He was in arm wrestling position.
"Nao, are you serious?" you huffed, sitting up. With his free hand, he grabbed yours, adjusting it into the same position at his but opposite.
He clasp your far softer hand, softened by years of domestic training in cooking and cleaning to prepare you to be a housewife for a sorcerer as mighty as Naoya. His were hardened, both metaphorically in the way of the hardship they've dug him through and physically in the callouses resulting from being raised in a constant state of fighting.
He began tilting his arm further, further, further, shoving yours down at an almost painful angle. You fought back as best you could, keeping up enough resistance to hold your hand straight in the middle for several seconds before your muscles finally gave out and he won.
You whined, shoving at his shoulders, all pouty like a kid who's ice cream had fallen from it's cone and slid sadly onto the asphault.
"You're a big baby," he huffed, positioning his hands under your armpits to lift you an inch off the mattress before tossing you back, "and you're not stronger than me." He crawled over you, a devilish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Not even close."
He closed the distance between you two, pressing a passionate kiss into your cheek before moving to the corner of your mouth and finally your lips. You gasped softly against his supple skin (he moisturized twice a day, his skincare routine was comparable to an insecure and acne-riddled teenage girl, even though his bronzey-pale skin was flawless either way), letting him breath in some of your air.
"And when we have a son?" Naoya was hellbent on having a son—a living heir of the Zen'in clan, as handsome and unassailable as Naoya himself, and as headstrong as his wife. "He's going to be as strong as me," he smirked, much to your displeasure.
"And, hey," he huffed under his breath, as if he was embarrassed to say it, "maybe that'll be 'cuz he'll grow up fighting a mom as strong as you." He averted your gaze, making you burst into a fit of giggles.
"Aww, Naokun," you beamed, tucking a strand of bleach blonde hair behind his ear after it had fallen over his face... which revealed the pinkish hue of his ears. Was he blushing?
But no, all the blood wasn't rushing to his face (for the most part, his cute ears were indeed blushing)... it was rushing through his arms, which you noticed had veins and arteries pressing against his soft skin, as you quickly realized he was still supporting himself above you and caging you in without breaking a fucking sweat. Maybe he was as strong as he'd said.
authors note: next post is love from shimoda pt2 trust. TRUST. also lmk if you wanna be in that series' taglist :>
Pairings: Captian John Price, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish, Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, König x fem!reader (she/her)
Summary: Random headcanons of what TF141 + König are like domestically/ as fathers.
Warnings: Deployment, pure domestic fluff
Word count: 1000+
A/N: Choosing baby genders based on what I can picture more. I appreciate feedback! Let me know what you think :)
Likes and reblogs are much appreciated! Copying and reposts are not! My fics are only posted on tumblr, under this sideblog @hotmencoreplus for the account, @hotmencore
CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE
‣ Definitely 1 girl, 1 boy.
‣ Is very big on respect. If either of them disrespect you, shout, or start being bratty, he is right on it.
‣ Got his boy into football at a young age, and is the loudest dad out of them all. He will be shouting to him on the field just like when he barks out orders to rookies.
‣ Always wants to go on fishing trips. Always. I feel like it would be something him and his daughter do more than anyone.
‣ He isn’t big on technology at all. Pretty much just because he just can’t wrap his head around it.
‣ I imagine him keeping up with the new iPhone models, but would not change a thing about them. This man has default everything on his phone (apart from his lock screen of you and the kids).
‣ He is 100% one of them dads that never know what to call airpods.
‣ “What was it he wanted for Christmas? Airbuds? Earpods? iBuds?”
‣ “Airpods, John.”
SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY
‣ 3 girls. You cannot convince me otherwise. And he definitely secretly hoped for all girls.
‣ When Simon is home from deployment, they go to him for everything.
‣ Nightmares? You will wake up in the morning to find him missing from your bed, only to find him asleep, half hanging off of one of their beds with his arms round them on his chest, snoring loud.
‣ Simon is so usually on edge, though has learnt to zone his girls out when they are arguing.
‣ “Dad, tell her I’m right.”
‣ “Hm?”
‣ He especially zones out when his oldest girl is talking about school drama. He isn’t listening to a word of it, sat on the living room sofa with his head leant back, eyes shut, humming every so often to make it seem like he is following.
‣ I don’t think he ever shouts. Raising his voice for assertiveness? Yes, but he never shouts at his girls. It reminds him of how his dad use to be with him, and the thought of being even a smidge like his dad really scares him.
JOHNNY ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH
‣ 2 girls.
‣ He aspires for them both to be bestfriends.
‣ He aspires to be their bestfriends. Like he admires them both.
‣ He will never turn down a tea party invitation. Never.
‣ You’ll be cooking dinner, and have no idea where Johnny is. But you hear distant giggles, and follow them up to your daughters’ room. There, you find your military husband sat at a little plastic table, wearing a tiara, clinking tiny cups together with your daughters and their little bears.
‣ “Well it’s nice to see you again Mr. Snuggles. And who is this new gue- oh, hey lass. Wanna join?”
‣ When they start to grow up, he lets them experiment with make up on him.
‣ And seeing your military husband with sparkly pink eyeshadow on and red rosy cheeks really is a sight for sore eyes.
‣ When on deployment, he will tell any and every story of his little girls to anyone that will listen. He loves to show them off.
‣ This ‘anyone’ is usually Ghost.
KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK
‣ 1 boy.
‣ Definitely has a modern style for his kids. He 100% bought him a pair of adorable tiny airforces.
‣ Is his son’s biggest supporter, in everything.
‣ He is big on praise. The biggest softie ever.
‣ Will put up every single painting his son has made. Your fridge is literally covered in paintings, drawings, pretty much anything made by your little boy, will be put up somewhere in the house.
‣ He vlogs literally everything. More than you.
‣ He watches them all when on deployment, missing you both, usually forgetting about sleep so that he can rewatch his little boy’s first steps for the 100th time.
‣ He also big on getting his boy into his own hobbies. Even though he has no awareness to suitable ages.
‣ You’re on the phone with him one night whilst he is away, as he talks to you about what he wants to get your son into.
‣ “When I’m back I’m gonna take us clay shooting. I reckon he’d like it”
‣ “He’s 2 Kyle”
KÖNIG
‣ 1 girl, you cannot argue.
‣ He worships the ground his babygirl walks on.
‣ He will literally do anything for her. And you, of course. But his little girl is the light of his life.
‣ He loves when he is home because he takes every opportunity to dress his little girl. Every single time he does he is internally screaming at the size of the clothes.
‣ Every. Single. Time. He will come home from deployment with a bouquet of flowers for his wife, and pull out a singular flower before he reaches the door to give to his babygirl.
‣ You are definitely the one wearing the trousers in the household, always having to put your foot down. Because there is no way this man could ever say no to his little girl.
‣ Is always taking photos of the both of you. Always. He isn’t often in photos himself, but will never miss an opportunity to take one of either of you.
‣ When he is home and takes care of your daughter whilst you go to work, he will be sending you videos and photos 24/7 as little updates.
‣ I can imagine him being the driest texter on the planet. Like he is a proper dad, will just send a ‘👍’ or one word answers. So these photos and videos will rarely ever have context. He will just send them randomly.
‣ Is completely unaware of suitable bedtimes for kids. You will spend a night out with your friends, and come back in at like 10pm to find him up with your toddler making pancakes.
“I won’t let Y/N and my child down this time. I’m married, and I managed to stop hunting. I can help you with research, but I won’t go back guys. I’m sorry, but I can’t. I don’t want to.”
