Fast foodies know the deal
Ghost x reader
(not proof read, this is just fluff straight from the source
Warnings: none, ovulation mention maybe? Its brought up a single time.)
The craving hits around 3 in the morning, it's ovulation week so the idea of not getting chicken nuggets from the drive through makes you want to cry.
You turn towards the sleeping lug beside you. He's on his back, breaths deep and even. Still as a grave but at your movement he takes the arm you had been using as a pillow to drag you further into his side.
Your Simon, took you forever just to get the man to admit he did more than tolerate you. even longer to admit he cared for you. It took you almost using his toothbrush to realize that the man might actually (gasp) like you. That one you didn't push, figured he'd come to terms with it on his own.
As you look at how peaceful he seems you try to fight the urge, you really do, but as you prop yourself up on your elbows and move closer to Simon's ear you resign to begging his forgiveness later.
"Simon, my baby? You sleeping?"
You wouldn't have known he was a awake had it not been for the lone eye opening to check on you
"Was, love. I was. Whats wrong, bad dream? Y' Can turn on the telly to that duck cartoon or the robots - won't bother me none." He rubs a comforting hand up and down your back, he's being so sweet you really do start to feel bad.
"I want chicken nuggets."
Silence.
Both eyes are open now.
The silence continues.
You smile sheepishly.
Wordlessly simon extracts his arm and turns so his back is to you.
"Nnooooooo! Simon pleeeaase. Pretty please? I want chicken nuggets so bad!"
"Go ahead. keys are on the rack, tanks full."
"Nooo you have to take me! come on baby please, for me?"
"My love. Sunshine. Light of my life. If you're hungry i made a perfecly good roast last night. Heat that up and let a man rest."
"I dont want a perfectly good roast! I want chicken nuggets. And a burger. And fries - oh maybe a shake?" You lean over him, hair purposely hung over into his face. He turns quickly and you're nose to nose
"So youre gonna have me get up at 3 fucking a.m. to get you a greasey, artey clogging, cholesterol raising gastrointestinal disaster of a meal - when we have a perfectly good home made dinner in the fridge."
"....please?"
Silence.
A deep suffering sigh.
An ecstatic squee
"Just get your fuckin shoes on"
------
You lean back over into the passenger seat, simon grumpy faced as you insisted that you should be the one to order.
You pat your thighs in glee as he pulls up to the window, gives you a dirty look , and hands the cashier his card.
The second window delivers your meal and drink quickly, you dig in like a starved animal. You're mid chew when he gives a grunt. A snooty sounding eh hem.
You grin and giggle, slowly airplaning him a nugget.
"Give me the chicken or i'll take the whole box"
You squeak and shove it to his lips quickly. His jaws snap around the nugget and it's gone within a single bite - you retract your fingers, still intact but wet with spit.
You give an 'eeeech' and look for somewhere to wipe your hand.
"Any of this ends up in or on my interior and it'll be your arse."
You roll your eyes and reach in the bag for a napkin, knocking the fries over in the process.
Silence.
The car drifts slowly to the left and is parked along the side of the road.
Not a word spoken.
You try to shove as many back into the carton as possible.
He stares at you.
You smile sweetly at him before leaning over the center console and kissing him. You meet his lips, they're stretched into a dangerous grin.
"Love" kiss "did you" kiss "spill salt" kiss "in my truck?"
You might not know a lot, but you know that voice means you're in trouble, which means it's distraction time.
You continue your sweet onslaught of kisses.
"Thank you for taking me baby, I love you so much. ", another smooch
is delivered.
"Youre my person, my favorite guy, love of my life."
He bites at your lip and you barely manage to slip it from his teeth
"Wanna spend the rest of my life with you, grow old with you"
He grips the back of your head and maneuvers your ear to his mouth, in a deep rumble he asks
"Are there fries on my floor, love?"
The dangerous smile still present.
"No of course not baby! i cleaned those up."
"So my truck is fry free?"
"Well - no didn't say that. there's a, a few under the seat"
He's grappling you into his lap now, the man looks a hint deranged.
"And why, my love, are you telling me about them instead getting them?"
he presses.
"'Cause I - hehe - I can't reach!" You giggle out as his hands slink towards your sides.
He pokes and prods at you, growling not unlike a bear while you squeal and squeak out little laughs.
"Gets a man up at ass o'clock-"
"Oh please, you get up early anyway!"
"makes him drive to get congealed grease-"
"you had a nugget too!"
"Then trashes his truck."
"Oh please it's like a handful of fries, I'll get them, i'll get them!"
He frees you with a huff and you dive back over to your side of the car. You pop open your door and hop outside to get a better angle at the underside of the seat. He gets impatient as you fish around for the last few fries, giving a little hurrah as the last one is snatched.
Clambering back into the truck you grin at him, happy as can be. He hums a short laugh, and you're off to home again.
He makes a beeline for the bedroom and you trot over to the counter to finish your meal, most of it having been shared and eaten in the truck. You sit back a moment to enjoy the feeling of fullness when you see Simon emerge again.
"Bed. Now. Kept me up long enough" he's already on you before you can think of a reply, slung over his shoulder. He makes quick work of getting you both situated in your proper spots.
You're snuggled into his side for the night, full and content. He breathes in deep and exhales slowly. you draw nonsensical patterns on his bare chest, playing with the hair there. As sleep overtakes you, your palm flattens over the spot where his heart resides; and you feel him relax just a smidgen more.
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TTD - And then They Were Roommates ™
Before Villain was their roommate, Hero never had any peculiar feeling about their apartment. They were grateful to have a roof over their head, but were not particularly picky about how it looked like under. It wasn’t like they had the kind of time to arrange the place. To be honest, with their working hours, they didn’t see why they would find energy left for this. As long as they had a bed and electricity, it was fine. The result was a reasonably clean room, but a rather bland place. The only thing that was really personal was the vanity in the bathroom, covered with hair products and beads of all colors. At Villain’s displeasure, Hero spent hours in front of it, because unlike some people whining from behind the door, they had their priorities well in order.
True, Hero had felt a bit insecure when Villain had entered for the first time, stopping in front of every furniture with such solemnity you’d swear they were staring at a masterpiece in a museum. Flustered, the not-so-proud owner had explained that they were not that rich, but Villain had seldom made any comment, and well, with their shadow covering them it wasn’t like their body language was readable. Maybe they were tired too, and after their place had just been destroyed by Supervillain it was understandable. They’d glistened towards the guest room and locked their door without a word.
The agency had called in the middle of that night for news. Hero, toying with their blanket, had assured their superior on the phone that yes, Supervillain had been destroyed for good, no they weren’t making it up, and oh by the way, Villain had reformed and changed their ways, hmmhmm, yep, definitively. On the other side of the line, that declaration was met by no little skepticism. After one hour of pleading, they’d at last convinced their interlocutor not to send a team to eliminate the threat. The next day, they were ordered to keep Villain under lock and key. Villain had stared when they’d shyly explained the situation to them, brandishing a padlock they didn’t really know how to use, and had only said:
“I could open this pathetic thing in my sleep.”
Given how gifted Villain was with building tools and machines, it was probably no idle boast. The good news, though, was that they’d accepted to stay in their room whenever they were left alone as long as Hero would give them an old game-boy left in a drawer for years to keep them occupied. As time passed, it became evident that Villain was an indoor creature who was delighted at the idea of not stepping outside ever again. In return, Hero had given them pretty much whatever they wanted, including scraps of metal and lots of tools. At first, they’d said nothing, but when parts of the room had began to be covered with sinister forms, they’d felt they had to put their foot down:
“You are not building a torture room in my place.”
“What else am I supposed to do, you oppressor ?”
“I’m the one paying the taxes.”
Villain had sulked for a moment after that, but then they’d suddenly asked:
“Aha, but what if my torture tools were also useful appliances?”
Hero had stared and said:
“No.”
“No as no or no as it can’t be?”
“Both.”
“You have little faith.”
Villain had immediately put themself to work. In an alarmingly short time, they’d built a tiny guillotine for the kitchen. It could cut even coconuts properly, in one strike. Hero couldn’t use it much, because it made them feel sorry for the poor vegetables (especially after seeing Villain do it, yelling “death to all of you, you feeble preys!” at a bunch a carrots), but they had to acknowledge it was a decent tool to slice a loaf of bread. Actually, Villain was good with the kitchen in general. Being disturbingly fond of cutting vegetables and fruits, it was no surprise that they’d fallen in love with the blender Hero had never used before:
“For what it is but a miniature death trap, where my innocent victims are trapped in a transparent prison and melted into oblivion by unforgiving blades?”
Hero had asked what kind of blade would be forgiving, and they’d got lightly tapped on the head with a cardboard tube for their trouble. But the outcome of all of this was a fridge always filled with bottles full of drinkable food that never got Hero’s stomach upset. Villain had even made a damn acupuncture chair which spikes looked deadly, but were in fact quite soothing. After that they’d stood up, and Hero just knew that they were puffing their chest behind their shadow:
“So, have I succeeded in my impossible task?”
And Hero could do nothing but answer:
“Yes. Completely. It’s genius.”
And it was. Really, the biggest beef they had was the time when Villain had stolen their two favorite magnets on the fridge. They’d stopped dead in front of the aro and ace pride flags that fixated the to-do lists of the day, declared that green, purple and black were traditional colors for villains and so they were “bound to have them”, had yoinked them and flied back to their room before Hero had time to react. And as much as they were for people exploring their own identity, how were they supposed to keep their groceries list in sight now?
But none of this was the weirdest thing. It was the fact that whenever Hero returned to their place with all these strange additions, it didn’t feel bad or crowded. It was the strange new and warm feeling that finally they were home, they were home, they were home.
(Though they still wanted their magnets back.)
*
Check the These Two Dorks Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with this Hero and Villain. This is how they met and now they’re roommates.
Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.
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