I don't even know what to title this bro, but basically: would they prefer their partner shaved or nah?
I had this in my drafts for a few days and then I saw @luxcuriousao3 make a post that was near EXACTLY the same as this one 😭🙏. Down to the details, too, which is crazy. I'm going to post this anyway, but please don't think I'm copying them (I'm not). We both happen to know ball when it comes to fictional men and their fictional preferences lmao. We're on the same wavelength
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What about their own grooming habits?
John loves a good bush. It's not even inherently sexual either, he just likes the intimacy of running his fingers through your curls. He enjoys the sensation and you both find it soothing after sex (whoever said Price is autistic, I see you). He's a bush man at heart and I stand by that, but if you prefer to shave? He's doing it for you. He just likes taking care of you and he doesn't want you getting nicked, or burnt if you wax. He's got plenty of experience with shaving his facial hair, so you can trust you're in steady hands.
Kyle would go crazy for a landing strip. He considers it the best of both worlds because he loves feeling skin on bare skin, but he also loves the contrast that the small patch of hair gives. He swears it makes the rest of you feel even smoother. Gaz would enjoy helping you maintain it, finding it cute to switch up the shape sometimes with a diamond or a heart. He'd be obsessed with rubbing his thumb along the strip, tracing the edges of the shape and caressing you.
Johnny will actually cry if you go bald. Genuinely. Even if you only trim or shape it a little; he's in tears. It's ridiculous how fast he switches up, though, because it turns out that he loves seeing how your bare skin glistens when you get aroused with nothing in the way. Still, when you grow it back he'll be all up in there, murmuring about how much he missed your bush like it had sentience of its own.
Simon is the most impartial. I think all of them are to some degree, but Ghost is the most vocal about how your comfort comes first. He wants you to keep yourself however you prefer. Trimmed is good, shaved is fine, completely natural is perfect. Having said that, his favourite is when he gets to feel just how soft your skin is after you're freshly shaved. He thinks it's precious to feel something so delicate because a lot of his skin is rough, callused, and scarred. Like John, Simon enjoys getting lost in the tactile of casual intimacy, simply stroking the crease of your inner thigh like a worry stone.
Oh how about you trying to sleep on the couch after an argument with the 141 men. How would they react?
Honestly? Not well.
Ghost is grabbing a pillow and a blanket that is far too small for him to sleep on the floor next to you. It’ll be the most pathetic thing you’ve ever seen that you forget that you’re mad at him.
Soap is just as pathetic but in a different way. He’ll stare at you from afar with those beautiful blue puppy eyes. As you continue to ignore him, he’ll creep closer and closer until he’s eventually laying on top of you, asking if you’re still angry with him.
Gaz respects your need for space but doesn’t believe in going to bed angry, or sleeping apart for that matter. He’ll drag out the air mattress, make far too much noise, and then set up beside you, grunting and groaning and tossing and turning and sighing until you give in.
Price puts his foot down about you sleeping on the couch after an argument. Think you’re going to sleep alone? Think again. You won’t even make it to the couch. That man will toss you over his shoulder or drag you back to bed if he has to.
overprotective!simon who is always super hyper-vigilant of you guys surroundings when you are out together. his eyes are always scanning the room tracking your every movement. especially in big crowds he will lead the way and walk in front of you while holding your hand.
overprotective!simon who gently maneuvers you around when in public. he’ll slightly shift you by your waist or gives you light thigh taps to make sure your being alert.
overprotective!simon who abides by the side walk rule at all times. even at home he makes you sleep furthest away from the door. in any situation whatever side is least dangerous is the side you’ll be on.
overprotective!simon who always picks you up after a night out. he hates the idea of you being intoxicated wandering the streets by yourself trying to get home to him.
overprotective!simon who wants to drive you everywhere. even though you both have working vehicles, he refuses to let you drive your car when he’s around.
price has to quickly put his phone down and take long, deep breaths to avoid raising his blood pressure when he sees a news article about a huge brawl breaking out at the local tesco because the video clearly shows ghost and soap scrapping on the floor while gaz stands in the background looking at the shelves of crisps, trying to remain oblivious.
Was just suddenly struck by the thought of Old Man Kyle, now in his forties or fifties, the same age Price was when they met. Price is long gone, though, just like the rest of the 141. Kyle's the sole survivor. He doesn't feel like it, though---barely feels alive at all. A Captain, now, and everyone tells him Price would be proud, but they don't know shite. They didn't know him like Kyle did. None of them know anything. Not about the missions that still haunt his nightmares, not about the bonds he'd formed with his team, deeper than blood and that now give him more grief than he knows what to do with. He has no one left, his mum having given up on him long ago, accepting that the military had stolen her only son. She'd never get him back fully, and she didn't want the scraps she was left with. He never knew his dad, and his step-father was never really his. His half-sister can't stand him for the pain he's caused their family---her family. Kyle's family was the 141, and all that remains of them are the scattered ashes of Soap and Ghost and the cold, impersonal headstone of Jonathan Price, Respected Military Captain, 1978 - 2033. May he finally rest in peace.
!! it’s very silly and unserious and the only reason it’s long is because it’s so vivid in my head. unedited as hell </3
nosy neighbours tf 141 got me giggling. and it’s not even inherently sexy nor attractive, it’s really just them being in people’s (or a person’s) business.
thinking about how, in retirement, they still bought a house together because it’s so odd to have separate lives. and so they bought one in the suburbs, with five bedrooms and four baths, and a really big backyard. kyle picked up gardening so the backyard was not just a plus but a damn requirement.
so they move in, not giving a damn about that one old WASP couple across the street watching them all with a sneer because apparently moving in with your mates is unusual. well, whatever. fuck them.
then they meet their new neighbour. you’re single—divorced, price would tell them later—whose life is centred around your 9 to 5 job at an office in the city which you wake up at 5am for.
you leave the house at 6:30am and then amble back home when it’s pushing 8pm. it’s a boring life; a boring routine. not even your little front lawn of cared-for wild flowers managed to hold their attention longer than a day.
so with that said, they’d like to go on a record and say that it’s all johnny’s fault.
friday evening, he started the game by saying, “she bought a baguette.” he paused. “and a bottle? it's shaped like lube?”
john blinked, setting his book down. “what.”
mactavish shrugged, still peering from the crack in the curtains. kyle walked in then, his apron all dirtied. “hey, i’m craving a baguette.”
johnny laughed and looked at price like price was supposed to get something from that. of course he didn’t, but johnny’s always been good at carrying the momentum so, to no one’s surprise, he repeats the observation three days after the previous one.
“bag’o coal and lemon bread. what the hell.”
“that’s a disgusting dinner combo,” kyle chirps, switching the channels.
simon throws a pillow at him because he had been watching a documentary about moths when kyle changed the program without asking him.
“it’s just monday,” john finally replies, cementing his participation in the game. “why’s she buying lem—did she not grocery shop?”
johnny looks at him, wide-eyed. “that’s a good question, sir.” then he turns, ignoring them again to peer at their neighbour. john’s sure you’re back in your home so he really doesn’t know what johnny’s watching at that point.
simon was successful at wrestling the remote control back to him, and the program’s returned to the moths.
.
thursday evening, two and a half weeks after monday’s lemon bread and bag of coal, the game picks up again.
“who the hell makes a rug purchase during the weekdays?” kyle asks, his voice teetering between fascination and concern.
“how long’s the rug?” johnny replies, all of them watching as kyle stands in front of that slip of window they now use for ‘bird watching.’
kyle spreads his arms out—2.5 ft.
“huh,” johnny says. “for the toilet, you reckon?”
“probably for the cat, actually,” simon cuts in.
“what cat.” john doesn’t even know who asked that, but really—what cat?
“a round thing,” simon answers. “grey fur.”
“aww,” johnny croons. “that’s cute.”
john sighs and turns back to the morning paper’s crossword puzzle for the day.
.
you don’t join the neighbourhood’s annual summer barbecue party much to their disappointment. although, in all fairness, john understands your decision because they wouldn’t have gone to it anyway had they not found out that the host this year was going to be that WASP couple who still sneered at them every chance they get.
the wife, of course, couldn’t turn them away in front of the other neighbours who particularly loved kyle and, shockingly, simon so there they are, eating what is begrudgingly some good ribs while listening to the neighbourhood gossip.
and while each story was riveting, nothing could honestly hold a candle to their ‘bird’ and your peculiar grocery runs.
.
one evening, you come home with a man. john tells them it’s your ex-husband, admitting to them that yes, he’s now used up their once-a-month pass to accessing ‘special’ resources with regards to finding more about you.
“think they’re fuckin’?” johnny asks, no longer feigning disinterest.
kyle groans because it had been more than a minute now since johnny dropped a card from his stack; they tried their best to be patient as they waited, thinking mactavish needed more time since, apparently, he’s never played cards before—growing up as a catholic boy, he’s always been told that any form of gambling was a gateway to eternal damnation.
john didn’t have the heart to tell him that you didn’t have to make bets to be able to play cards.
“maybe,” simon replies, ignoring kyle’s angry grumbling. “why else would she bring him home? her house ain’t really a wonder.”
“…how do you know that?” kyle asks, his words measured and slowed.
simon blinks, then he sniffs, before looking away.
“hey!” mactavish screams, catching on. “we agreed no tampering with anythin’ of ‘ers!”
“yeah? well tell ‘at to cap’n too—he was already there when i broke in.”
johnny turns to him with a theatrical betrayed look. kyle drops his head on the table because the game’s been fully abandoned now.
“sir,” johnny says, his voice airy like he’s speaking mid-gasp. “you didn’t.”
john licks the back of his teeth, then, “jus’ wanted to see ‘er cat, s’all.”
.
the ex-husband leaves three hours later with a familiar rug tucked to his side.
.
“huh,” simon murmurs, his voice so faint that john almost missed it. “tulips and tuna today.”
johnny and kyle would’ve loved the update but the two are away for the week.
john messages it to the group chat.
suds (19:21)
> holy shit she’s improving.
.
oddly enough, it took them six months since they moved in for them to finally talk to you.
or, well, for you to talk to them.
“i’m havin’ a yard sale tomorrow,” you say after the introductions have passed, your lips tugged up in a shy smile.
john honestly couldn’t even remember how he used to envision you—old age caught up to him and for a whole while, you were nothing but a coloured blob in his eyes since they turned out to be more damaged than expected—but whatever that had been was erased the moment you stood before them.
shy and awkward, your back slouched just a little like you’re trying to curl into yourself in the face of their rapt attention, but even then you’re beautiful.
“yeah?” kyle asks, smiling; the first to break out of the trance you put them into. “and would y’need help, pretty miss?”
“oh, you,” you murmur, strained laughter peeling from your lips. “and yeah, i do. would that be alright? i tried moving my old couch downstairs and my back almost gave out. i swear, i thought i was going to see the lord today.”
johnny laughs, loud and booming. “well we’re glad that you didn’t die today, otherwise who would take care of little truffle, huh?”
john barely stopped himself from heaving out a loud sigh, an attempt made more challenging when he caught the way kyle whirled his head to glare at mactavish, the act not any less subtle since it startled you too. simon grumbles something incoherent—it’s lost amidst johnny’s petering laugh and your swelling horror.
cliche dog hybrid!reader having been treated bad with their last team, and being completely closed off when they join the tf141. not talking much, doing everything they tell them, not once talking back or complaining about anything.
but what if...
what if dog hybrid!reader who was treated bad, is now full of anger and pent up frustration, and they tend to snap back and bite when they're uncomfortable? sure, there's warning signs like ears and tail, growling as well, but the bite usually happens quickly, even if it's just a nip.
