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#Kyle Gaz Garrick
swordsandholly · 2 days
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Thinking about a mechanic!AU where the 141 boys run a garage and need a new receptionist. They hire you because you’re just so cute (great tits) and have a decent resume but it becomes a slight problem when they realize you’re a bit… dense.
Total ditz to be precise.
But they can’t really get mad when you get the keys for clients mixed up and look at them with those big eyes all teary and a little pout pushing out your lower lip.
Price is the most patient, perfectly content to walk you through how to file paperwork and fill out forms. Instructing you in a low voice while his breath brushes the shell of your ear. It’s really their fault for having such a terrible system, you know? Don’t worry about it too much, dove. He’ll settle his big hands on your shoulders and gently trace up and down your arms. See? You’re getting it. Just needed some more practice, hm?
Johnny is more than happy to show you around the garage, rattling off everything he knows about all those nitty gritty details that go right over your pretty little head. He’ll pop open the hood of some sports car and point to the engine to show it off. No, bonnie, you’ve got tae get in close. Closer.
Until you’re bent entirely over in one of those too-short skirts you wear everyday. It takes all his willpower not to yank you into the supply closet.
Gaz is just so sweet to you. Always bringing you little treats and candies to suck on. To help you concentrate, of course. Always greeting you with a soft ‘baby girl’ at the beginning of your shift. Whenever you’re standing around be it at the printer or counter - wherever really - he’ll slip a hand on your waist. It always trails a little lower, his pinky just edging on the hem of your too tight jeans.
Ghost gets frustrated with you to the point of causing tears to well up in the corners of your eyes. He’s feels guilty, sure, but bloody hell just print the damn receipt. He avoids you for the most part. Until one evening when it’s pouring down. You forgot your rain coat of course, silly girl. He offers you a ride which you take happily.
After that he can’t get rid of you. You bring him coffees (how you remember his order word for word but not where you last left your own cup is beyond him) and giggle at his jokes. When a client gets too snappy or too loud he’s the first to step in - standing behind you glaring at them with his huge arms crossed over his chest until they back down.
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a-b-riddle · 2 days
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Part 2
Can't stop thinking about reader finally cutting them loose.
For three days there was nothing but radio silence. In those three days you had told yourself that it was a grace period. Time for Simon to cool off and realize how much of a bastard he was for saying all those things he obviously didn't mean. Johnny coming back over with a bouquet of flowers and endless apologies and cuddles.
Simon didn't apologize for his harsh words.
Johnny didn't call you later, as promised.
For three days you jumped at every single notification, silently hoping it was one of them. Any of them.
But it wasn't.
And you, unfortunately, got the answer to the question you had been asking yourself for months.
Did they still want this?
The answer was clear.
You didn't let their unofficial dismissal get to you. You still had shit to do. A life to get on to. A book signing to go to.
Jesus.
A book signing. A book you wrote. A book that was being published and released the day of the expo. You weren't expecting a huge line because this was your debut novel, but with the help of some ARC readers who had took to social media, there had been a bit of a storm brewing.
You had listened to John when he had mentioned writing under an alias. Don't know how crazy people are out there. They'd do anything to get close to you, Dove. Just better to protect yourself where you can. You almost hated yourself for listening to him now. Now you would just have to keep writing under your pen name.
You were getting ready to close up shop early when your phone finally pinged.
Kyle.
Fuck.
Of course it was Kyle. The one who hadn't treated you like you were constantly bothering him. Not the one who made you feel guilty for agreeing to your arrangement. Nor was he the one who fucked you and left you. No. He was just the one who just wasn't there.
Maybe that was just as bad.
What are you up to today?
That was it. Almost two weeks of radio silence and that's all he had to say? It just added more evidence that you were making the right call in ending this now. It had already carried on for too long.
You had two things on your to-do list and you wouldn't let Kyle's sudden reappearance deter you.
E-mail the publisher back.
Change the locks.
You didn't have the strength to face them again. If they groveled, it would be too easy to take them back. One against four wasn't much of a fair fight. And if they didn't care to fight for you... you don't know if you could survive it. Coming face-to-face with the proof that it didn't bother them to give you up even though it was killing you.
No. Cutting it off completely was the best thing to do.
So you didn't respond.
You left Kyle's text unanswered as you e-mailed the publisher back that everything was set for your flight on tomorrow morning. You would spend Thursday adjusting to the time difference and Friday you would rest up before the expo this weekend. She assured you that you would need to rest up your writing hand. Whatever that means.
You left Kyle read as you closed up shop several hours earlier than usual. You needed to drop off the bank deposit before you started on task number two.
You didn't bothering responding to Johnny when he had texted you when you were leaving the hardware store, purchase in hand. Asking if you were free Friday. Promising dinner. 'In or out. Your choice.'
It was almost second nature when you got home to pull up your phone. Ready to text one of them to see which one of them could come over and help.
Fixing a leaky sink? Nothing Johnny hasn't seen before. Need help moving furniture? John won't mind when you change your several times on what should go where. Kyle would always come in with take out the moment you mentioned you were hungry and whenever you felt like going for a walk when it was a bit too late in the evening, Simon was the first to volunteer as your personal guard dog.
But asking them to come and change the very lock you planned on using to keep them out seemed... counter productive, if not downright petty.
You were almost done with the lock when your phone sounded off. Only this time it wasn't a text. Someone was calling you.
You almost faltered when John's name came on your screen.
Fuck.
That almost got you.
You almost answered it.
Almost.
You clicked on the 'Sorry, I can't talk right now. Options, before finishing up your work.
And just like that, you were done. No help needed. You had changed the lock. Even adding on a deadbolt. Replacing the flimsy chain Simon had taunted you about. If someone wanted to get in here, that wouldn't stop them.
Well, now you didn't need to hear it anymore.
Not that you would really hear it again...
Your flight was in twelve hours. Although that seemed an ample amount of time you hadn't even begun to pack. You had luckily narrowed your outfits down, but now was the task of folding it nicely into your suitcase rather than just stuffing it in there.
On my way. We need to talk.
It was too late for talking. Three days too late. Several months too late.
The last message sent was four weeks ago. A new Thai place had opened up close to your apartment that you were wanting to try. All of them had given you excuses.
Not my taste, Dove.
Cannae do it tonight. Next weekend? Next weekend didn't happen either.
I can do tomorrow. Kyle ended up bailing. You forget the excuse he used.
Simon hadn't even bothered to reply.
The final nail in the coffin of your relationship. Almost two years wasted with nothing, but a broken heart to show for it. And the worst part is, they had all chipped away at your heart, leaving you to deal with the final blow that would shatter it.
Im sorry. I can’t do this with you anymore. wish you all the best.
Your fingers made quick work in blocking their numbers. It was best. If they wanted to reach you, they couldn't. On the other side of the coin, if they didn't care to reply, you wouldn't spend countless hours crying over the fact that none of them had been affected the same way you had.
You would deal with getting them their belongings that they had left behind another time. You had big things, great things happening for you. You were cutting your loses. You were cutting them loose.
You just hoped you didn’t regret it.
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s-oaps · 3 days
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GHOST, GAZ, & PRICE OPERATOR INTROS | MODERN WARFARE 2019
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shadow4-1 · 3 days
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I'm just imagining waking up in a dog pile of the 141.
Like, the safe house only has one bed and it's fucking disgusting. You've already seen a rat and cockroaches scurrying off in the dark corners of the room. There's no way in hell ANY of you are willingly sleeping on the floor.
So instead you take off all of your gear, leave it on the floor, and pile up together on the (definitely not) king size bed. It's an extremely tight fit, but it "works". You're on top of Gaz and half under Ghost but you're so fucking tired you don't mind. In fact, you pass out the moment your head hits the mattress.
The next morning you wake up stiff and out of it. You squirm and roll around, completely confused. You don't immediately remember where you are. Sticky limbs beneath your body jab into your back. There's a shoulder pressed uncomfortably hard into the crook of your neck. You try to get up but you can't find any leverage. The man beneath you moves and you fall even deeper into the half-awake tangle of limbs. You groan, trying to stretch your legs but one is hooked around another pair and the other is squeezed between a muscular set.
You squirm around some more but suddenly you feel more limbs touch at you. They're against your thighs, one against your rear. You shimmy, hoping to finally unlock yourself from the pile but you only manage to sink even further into it.
There's no escape.
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dante-mightdie · 22 hours
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I just want to be the 141’s resident nuisance (brat) Particularly to Price.
Walk into his office, stare at him for a second and then just turn the lights off and walk out so he has to get up to turn them back, grumbling to himself.
Seeing him in the gym all sweaty from a vigorous workout and asking him if he’s “Taking it easy today, cap?”
Fix him a drink and setting it just out of his reach.
Making snide comments or just lazing about in his office as if it’s my own personal lounging room, touching his bookshelf and looking through his very few photo frames.
did someone say poly!141 with brat dynamics
c/w: implied smut, poly dynamics
you drive them up the wall. don’t get me wrong, they adore you and would do anything for you. but you’re such a little shit and it’s a wonder that price and simon let you get away with this much
price plays the waiting game with you. lets you dig yourself a deeper grave before he begins to bury you alive with the consequences of your own actions
normally sends you on your way with a quick swat to your ass and a stern warning but this time he’d decided it was time to put you in your place. remind you who was really in charge
you practically skip into his office, a smile on your face and a glimmer in your eye which can only suggest mischief. the smile drops quickly from your face when you see johnny, gaz and simon in his office too
“what’s going on?” you pout, “having a team meeting without me, old man?”
price just gives you a closed-mouth smile, an unnerving laugh leaving him. a laugh you know he keeps reserved for his enemies, “no, love. we’re just about to take part in a team-bonding exercise. see, we need to figure out how to handle a mutual nuisance in all of our lives.”
“you talking about johnny?” you giggle, flicking the scot’s ear before he can smack your hands away with an unimpressed grumble
“very cute, lovie. but you know who we’re talking about.” the captain smirks, “‘bout time you had an attitude adjustment, hm? now, bend over the desk.”
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yakowo · 15 hours
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something soft 🖤
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forestshadow-wolf · 3 days
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Soap having always been called annoying or a nuisance
Price walks into a room where soap and ghost are working like, "what're ya up to, lads?"
And ghost responds something like, "we're just getting some work done."
And soap says something like, "aye, well- ghost is working, I'm bein' a nuisance." Ghost always gives him this mildly sad look, but he doesn't quite know what it means so he ignores it.
Or
Whenever the guys are invited anywhere soap just assumes he's not included in the invitation unless explicitly asked, because he knows he's annoying, and people don't really want to spend more time than necessary with someone who is as annoying as him.
OR
What if after so long of it, he (almost) takes pride in being the most annoying. He starts going out of his way to be the most irritating. And then when people get mad and yell at him he wears it like a badge to be flaunted and bragged about.
And it's like he's collecting at this point. He'd gotten Gaz in the first week (the first time), then the first time he got Price was less than a month after that. Laswell constantly has to remind him to keep comms clear. For a while he didn't go for Ghost, mostly because it was almost immediately clear that Ghost was already annoyed with him.
But after a while Ghost started to warm up to him, and that wasn't what was supposed to happen. So he focuses his efforts on pestering the man. But nothing he does gets a raise out of him
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Price, finding a quiet corner away from his time, he just needed a few minutes quiet without chaos after having broken up with his now ex that morning. Dating a civie just never worked out in the end.
*outside the office building*
Soap and Gaz, pulling up in a deffiantly not miltary issued car: you guys wanna go with us to run over Price's cheating ex?
Roach, looks over at Ghost: ...
Ghost: yeah sure, why not
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Soap: Have you ever wondered about how an author would describe you in a novel?
Price: “He walks with the confidence of a man who knows he's doing the right thing.”
Gaz: “His laughter was like thunder. A hot thunder.”
Ghost: “And then there’s this asshole...”
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cod-dump · 5 hours
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Price: Why is there a COFFIN in the rec room??
Soap: We’re having a funeral for Ghost
Price: WHAT?!
Gaz: He didn’t have one when he ‘died’ so we’re throwing one for him
Price: Wha- You don’t THROW a funeral!
Soap: Well, we are now. The soldiers are writing speeches for it
Price:
Gaz: It’s this weekend, by the way. Don’t miss it or Ghost will think you don’t care about him
Price: … what the fuck-
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harlenia · 2 days
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Poly 141 getting ready to go out to a fancy dinner.
Price: *Comes out with a nice tux on*
Y/N: You ate that.
Price: ate what? I haven’t ate anything yet.
Simon: she’s using that new age lingo shet again.
Gaz: she means you look good in your outfit, Cap.
Soap: Tis that dam tiktac crap
Y/N: it’s Tik TOK and I don’t even use it that much-
Simon: your screen time was 10 hrs for that app alone Y/n
Price: *face palming* Go get in the car before we’re late
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ghouljams · 3 days
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The only foil Gaz has in his little scheme of fucking his pretty clients? Rich business man Price and his pretty wife. Prices’ wife? The most oblivious bimbo he’d ever met. He wants to nail her *so* bad but, she doesn’t pick up on his ‘double meanings’ or anything! She just paid his estimate outright, (full price! The jacked up price!!! wtf?)
“I’m sorry, I’m not good at manual labor!!! I’d probably knock down the building, lol!” And prances off. She dresses like a tease, tiny skirts, tight shirts, heels, nice hair, pretty makeup.
She’s got daddy Price paying for her and Price finds deep, endless amusement in Gaz going crazy trying to get her to understand what type of ‘manual labor’ he’s talking about. Every time Gaz tries to flat out tell her he wants to f- Price walks by, blue balling Gaz because he can’t proposition his clients wife right in front of him!!! Gaz gets blue balled *again.*
And Price keeps hiring him too! He has the money, so why not? Gaz really amuses him, it turns him on to have someone chasing after his pretty wife *so* bad, and imagine how great it will be when Price finally lets Gaz have her?
Maybe they can have Gaz over for just sex without the fake excuse of ‘building’ or ‘remodeling’
(Bonus: if Price overhears Gaz’s double entendres, he comes in bends over the marble counter like ‘oooooh, this is how I get the discount, I can do that’ because he thinks Blue collar Gaz is hot too, why does his wife get to be the only one nailed over their new counter? And his wife is like ‘oh- oooooh! OOOOOOH!’ Sparkles in her eyes ‘now’ she get’s it!!! Well why didn’t he just *say* so!!! And drops to her knees. Yeah, They all take the new marble counter for a spin.)
The problem... the problem...
The problem is I want Gaz to fuck that old man over the marble counter now. Gaz plays for both teams, if he can't get the bimbo wife, he'll take the hot older husband. Price wants to bend over the counter, Gaz'll press his hand firm between Price's shoulders and his hips firm against his ass. A little surprising for Price, he was joking(sort of) because that's the fun of it. His wife isn't getting it but he is, and it should be a good haha laugh it off moment of "I know what you've been doing." But Gaz presses his weight down against Price and tells him he'll do just as well.
"Can probably take it better than the bird, isn't that right sir?" He murmurs, his cock already starting to stiffen against Price.
The ideal end to this scenario is Gaz fucking Price over that shiny new counter, Price's eyes rolling back as he grunts out moans and Gaz bites his shoulder, pretty wife sat on her knees behind Gaz licking his balls and occasionally dipping back to eat his ass. Both of them really should be thanking him for doing so much work on their house, and for teasing him so long. He wants Price white knuckling the counter, shooting his load all over his wife's tits as she tongues Gaz's ass. He'll fill Price and then move on to the bird.
"When's the last time someone took care of you properly," Gaz asks Price, leaning back to spread Price's cheeks apart, watching his cock getting swallowed greedily with each thrust. Price mumbles out some answer, well before he was married, and sorely missed. Gaz hums with a smile, "Might have to start staying late then, make sure you're satisfied with my services."
Don't think Gaz isn't eager to get the wife over the counter too. Stripping the condom off his thick cock when he's done with Price and lifting the giggly wife off her knees to fuck her raw. Normally he's safer about this sort of thing, never know where a housewife has been, but he doubts she's smart enough to be sleeping around. So he bounces her on his cock until she's shaking and clinging to him, stifling moans by biting his shoulder. He'll leave her dripping come so Price can eat it out of her.
"You know," Gaz tells them, gathering his things, "You really could do with a couple French doors out to the garden."
"When can you start?" Price asks.
"How's tomorrow work?" Gaz grins.
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a-b-riddle · 2 days
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Can’t stop thinking about poly141 who get so wrapped up in their own bullshit they begin to neglect reader. So you leave 🤷🏼‍♀️
It wasn’t a big deal at first. You understood that their jobs were intense to say the least. You own a bookshop, which in itself was exhausting, but you understood how they could get carried away with work.
You had excused the many delayed returned texts or missed FaceTime dates when they were deployed. When they came home, they almost always made it up to you. Showering you with attention and quality time.
But the past two returns home have been… different.
Usually at least one of them made a beeline to your shop or your loft if it was too late in the evening. You always held your breath when it was just one of them.
“They’re okay.” Was the usual answer. “Everyone made it back okay.” It was only then that you could melt into whoever’s hands you were in.
After one of their recent returns home you had voice to Price that you didn’t appreciate several days passing after they came back and no one had bothered to tell you. He had snapped. Arguing that a mission doesn’t finish just because they land back on soil. There was paperwork and debriefing to be done. If and when they wanted to see you they would.
He didn’t apologize until later. Crawling into your bed, using one of the keys you had given them. Blaming the stress. How they had almost lost Johnny for the reason of his outburst. What else could you do but forgive him?
So you had given them space after that one. Not holding it against them to decompress before seeing you.
The next time was the final straw. Solidifying how little they cared about you and how much power you had given them.
Johnny had come in around 7 one evening. He was dressed nicely, for civilian standards. You were reading a book on the couch when he had let himself in. You were wearing on of Simon’s sweatshirts and panties. He took you in for a moment before scooping you up.
He fucked you absolutely stupid. Adamant on having you cum on his tongue, his fingers and his cock. You were only able to bask in the afterglow of him filling you up before he started pulling his pants back on.
“What are you doing?” There were times that you would practically need a crow bar to get Johnny detached from you just long enough to relieve yourself. You had gotten many a UTI courtesy of Mr. John MacTavish.
“Dinner with my family tonight.” He explained by the time he was already buttoning his shirt. “The youngest just graduated and ma’ feels the need to go all out.” Now came the tie. Johnny was actually wearing a tie. To go to dinner. “A fancy dinner in London.” He huffed. “Meanwhile I’m out scufflin’ with bloody fuckin’ terrorists and I get a pat on the back.” He gave you a peck on the cheek before heading out the door. Promising to call you later.
You just sat in your bed. Still naked. Almost in shocked. He had fucked you and just… left. You were close to a panic attack as you called Simon.
Simon wasn’t the one to cuddle and coddle. But there was something so soothing at the sound of his voice or even how his heavy body felt perfect laying on top of you. Yes. Simon wasn’t the time to lift you up with words, but he was your own security blanket. Just having him close helped.
“Can you come over?” It wasn't unusal for Simon to be the one to come later in the evening. Insomnia was a bitch to deal with and you could sleep through the sounds of whatever he played on the tv. Most of the times you were content laying your head on his lap as he ran his hand along your head as if he were petting you. It was a bit cringe, but it knocked you out every time.
“What’s wrong?” He asked. The low timber of his voice already calming you.
“Johnny came over.” You sniffled. “He just fucked me and left.”
“Not surprised.” He scoffed. You could almost see him rolling those deep brown eyes of his. “If you wanted to cum, I’m happy to come over and help.”
For whatever reason, that only seemed to make you more upset. “You’re not listening.” You said, trying to spell it out for him. “He left. Like didn’t even stay and cuddle just left. Fucked me and left.”
“That’s why you’re calling me crying about?” He almost seemed… annoyed.
“Yes!” You said, nearly snapping. All of the tension from the last several months coming to the surface. “I’m not just a warm body to keep a bed cozy until you assholes decide you need to get one off.” Assholes. You called them assholes. “This isn’t what we agreed to.”
“Johnny is Johnny.” Simon tried to defend, not really caring to continue the conversation now knowing that you weren't in any sort of physical harm. “He wanted his dick wet and from the sound of it, that’s what he did. Don’t hold it against him because he had other things to do.”
“It’s not just Johnny leaving.” Your throat felt like it was tightening. A telltale sign you were close to crying. Whether from sadness or anger you weren't entirely sure. “The only time any of you want anything to do with me anymore is to fuck.” You missed date nights and lunches. You missed texting any and all of them about your day, about theirs. About new books. You had been trying for months to tell them over dinner one of your books got picked up. Yours was being traditionally published.
None of them had bothered to even try penciling you in.
“You got yours.” You heard the popping of a can top. Simon was settling in for the night. Once he popped a top at home there was no getting him out. He wasn't coming for you. “I don’t understand what you’re bitchin’ to me about. Yeah, in the beginning we indulged ya a bit? Dressed you up, took you out. But you should have known spreadin’ them legs of yours wouldn’t end with one of us puttin’ a ring on your finger.”
You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? These were the men that pursued you. Initially, individually, but when tensions became to much they offered a solution. All of them. Four times the attention, of the affection.
Four times the love.
But also four time the neglect. Four times the amount of heartbreak and disappointment. Loving all of them meant putting yourself in a position to let each of them hurt you in their own way and they had.
John's constant state of snapping at you as if you were one of his men.
Johnny swinging by as if you were just a fuck buddy. Not even bothering to give a peck before leaving.
Kyle essentially ignoring you for weeks now. Ghosting you for hours or having to cancel on date nights last minute or claiming that he really did forget that the two of you had planned to meet for lunch.
And now there was Simon. Telling you that all you meant to them was what was between your thighs.
Spreadin' them legs of yours wouldn't end with one of us puttin' a ring on your finger.
None of them ever intended on making this into something more. That much was clear now.
You didn't know what to say to Simon. You couldn't think of a witty retort. You couldn't find the proper insult to whirl his way. You couldn't convey just how much his words had hurt.
So you did the only thing you could.
You hung up.
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buttdumplin · 2 days
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The sweet, lovely poly 141 boys and their Spanish-speaking latine partner.
This was meant to be a quick little thing, but boy did this get away from me lmao. This is the fluffiest shit I've ever indulged in and I love it. Big thank you to @mikichko for inspiring and helping with this!!!
CW: poly 141, gn!reader, latine reader, mexican slang, hint of d/s dynamics in Johnny's
Price, god love the man, is the one who seems to stumble the most. It's almost comical, considering the fact that Spanish and Arabic are so similar due to their histories. But there's a big difference between the Spanish he's learned to recognize and what you throw at him on the daily. He truly thinks it's because of his age, window of acquisition and all that. John does not expect to be able to speak fluently with you, but he does at least want to understand you. What he really wants, though, is to make you feel more fully at home with him, and he is forever grateful that you feel comfortable and safe enough with them to embrace all parts of your identity.
"Hola, amor mío. How was your day?" you greet him from the couch, eyeing him from tip to toe and almost whistling at seeing him in uniform. "Sigues rechulo, mi güerito, so I assume all went well?"
John swings down to kiss you, gripping the back of your neck to prolongue the kiss, trying to soak in as much of the affection as he can while also disguising the fact that he still doesn't fully recognize what came after.
"Yours was good too, I trust?"
"Yeah, but my brother called. El güey still con sus pinches mamadas and asking for my help. Aguas, in case he shows up this week."
"I... will keep an eye out, dove."
"Call me si les arma pedo and I'm not around."
He just nods sagely and squishes up against you on the couch, letting your warmth seep into his tired bones.
Later that evening, he rounds up the boys while you're in the shower and pulls out a small notebook where he's written things out phonetically. John may not have all the knowledge he needs, but he sure as hell is good at getting it.
"'Güey,' that's the brother's nickname?"
"No, that's like 'man/guy.' But it's also an insult. But not always," Johnny supplies.
"Fuck me, okay. 'Rechulo' is... I got nothing for that one."
"The 're' is for heavy emphasis, 'chulo' is 'cute/handsome/pretty.' 'Re' can go on practically any adjective," Simon steps in.
"'Aguas' and 'pedo' CANNOT be what they are, right?"
Kyle takes his hand and chuckles, "No, sweetheart. The first is like a warning, the second a fight or scene or scandal. In this context."
John's shoulders finally relax and he lets out a heavy sigh, putting the final touches on his notes of the day.
"Thank you, boys, for your patience and your kindness. And your secrecy," John huffs a little laughter and gives them his sweetest smile, the one where you can see the dimples poking out through the beard.
They all reach over to gently caress him, taking turns kissing the parts of him they can reach.
"Thank you, John, for trying so hard."
~
Beautiful, wonderful Kyle, the delight of a man that he is, is the one giving it as good as he gets. He's the one crooning in your ear, showering you with the most decadent terms of endearment, knowing full well they make your knees much weaker in Spanish. He'll use the advantage every single chance he has, don't doubt that for a second. But truly, it's the soft seclusion of those moments that he cherishes most, when you're looking up at him with big bright eyes, knowing you fully trust him to take care of you.
You're grumbling away as you wash dishes after dinner when Kyle comes up behind you, arms making the way slowly around your waist, chin dropping onto your shoulder.
"Oh, tesoro mío, look at you working away, working so hard for us."
You refuse to look at him and give a fussy pout. He knows it's your least favorite of the house duties. So much so that you're always willing to do almost anything as long as you don't have to touch wet food.
"It looks like you've done enough, cariño. Come join us in bed."
"No. None of you wanted to trade with me so se aguantan," you try to wiggle and bump his head away from yours.
"Come on, cosa hermosa, we need you with us to settle for the night," he pulls your hands from the water, drying them and turning you towards him.
You immediately bury your face into his chest. Can't look him in the eye, he'll win you over the moment you do.
"So they send in the smooth talker, huh?"
Kyle laughs, clear and bright, and he wraps you back up in his arms, gently cradling your head until you give in and look up at him.
"Or," he says, making you both rock gently, "I'm trying to sneak in a little solo time."
Your body melts against his as the words sink in, big eyes blinking softly up at him, "Besito?"
"As many as you want, mi vida. Until you grow bored of me," and you're letting out a sweet sigh as those soft lips meet yours.
His hands move to bring your body closer to his, to milk this quiet moment for as much contact as possible, to sear it all into his memory.
"You two are awfully quiet out there," Simon calls from the bedroom and it makes you break apart with a little jump.
You hear frantic rustling that has to be Johnny, "Hold on, what happened to doing the dishes!"
A chuckle escapes the two of you, sparkling eyes meeting in the low light from the stove hood. The sound of John huffing to get comfortable floats in from the bedroom.
"Just a minute more, hermosura," he mutters against your hair. "Wanna stay here a bit longer."
"Really liking all those pet names, aren't you?"
Kyle laughs again and gives you a squeeze, "Mean every single one of them."
And you happily linger, not pointing out that you've noticed an endearing pattern of Kyle wrapping up nights in the kitchen with you in his arms and a faint love song echoing down the hall for you two to sway to.
~
Beloved, darling Simon, he hides his own understanding of the language. He understands it nearly perfectly, with just the tiniest margin of error, nothing too big to bring attention to it. Overall, he's able to catch almost everything you mumble. It's not to be sneaky or anything like that, Simon would never do anything to compromise your privacy. It's more that he doesn't quite see the need to verbalize it. To him it's nothing special, no need to make a spectacle. Instead, he lets it seep into his actions, ever the acts of service lover that he is.
You're spread out on the couch, on the phone with your mother, complaining, "Como chingan los del trabajo. Me pidieron un reporte para el viernes y ahora me reclaman que todavía no se los he dado y apenas es miércoles."
There was a tension in your shoulders when you came home from work, he didn't miss that. Caught you jolting to a stop mid-stretch. And as the call goes on longer, Simon picks up on more.
"No he tenido chance de lavar ropa, ni una putisima pijama... Traigo un pinche antojo de mole, pero es un chingo de trabajo y ahorita no le puedo dedicar el tiempo..."
He quietly moves to gather the boys as you continue ranting and pace around the room. You're too caught up in your call to see them forming a massive huddle and their nodding at Simon right as the break and throw their joined hands in the air.
By the time you're off the phone, it's dark out and you notice the house is quieter than usual. You move to look for the boys (they can't have left without telling you, right?) when Simon pops out from the hall, crooked smile you love so much adorning his face, and he simply takes your hand to pull you into the bathroom. A hot bath greets you, some honeyed bath bomb already dissolving in the water and your laptop set up on a bucket besides the bath, your comfort show already pulled up and ready to play. Simon then points to your softest pajamas washed and set out on the counter for you.
"And you'll help me with my lotion too?"
He kisses your forehead, "When do I not?"
"The boys?"
"Setting up dinner. Kyle and I are making your favorite."
You whip around to face him, eyes wide and excited, "With fresh tortillas?"
With a low, affirmative hum Simon pulls you in closer and just holds you. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't need to. But he lends you his strength, which is all he can really hope for. The steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his arms around you help release the tightness in your body. Letting out your own little hum, you give him a squeeze and he squeezes back harder, crushing you in the way he knows you find comforting. There's a soft devotion in his tenderness with you, an unshakable support in every single thing you do.
"So you gonna undress me too, or...?"
A peal of laughter escapes you as he playfully swats at your butt, "Undress yourself. I've got cooking to do."
A day without hearing your laughter is a day poorly spent to Simon.
He's almost to the door when you pull him back into you, hands tugging on his shirt to bring him down to your height. His own laughter rumbles in his chest as you cover his face in loud kisses, and he stays locked in place. He will for as long as you need him to, never mind his back. If it's gonna go out eventually, he'd rather it go out from his time spent like this.
~
Johnny, bless the boy, is desperate to hear it, to have you address him directly. You speak plenty around the house, on phone calls with friends, talking back at the tv (some shows have been put on temporary bans, or at the very least you're not supposed to watch them alone), at the lovely crooked cat yall adopted. You shower them with pet names with every breath you take. And he loves it all! Loves that you so willingly share so much of yourself with them. But Johnny boy is dying for something specific- "Love, why don't you call me papi?"
When he voices it, it's a complete surprise. Simon and Kyle both laugh so hard so suddenly that they find themselves choking on their own spit. Price himself is caught so off-guard that he fully looks up from the dinner he's prepping in the kitchen, raw chicken slipping out of his hands and plopping back into the flour bowl. You at first laugh it off lightly, thinking it was one of his cutesy jokes he makes to get a giggle out of everyone. That would have made the most sense, honestly. But when he looks away, big blue eyes shining with the softest hint of embarrassment, it sinks in.
You shift in your seat a fraction, "Johnny, I don't even call any of you that in English. You know it's not exactly the same thing, right?"
"I know but the little old lady from the corner shop calls me "papi" and so does the older man who brings the water and other people too and it's always so affectionate and so I thought..."
He spares a glance at you, hoping he hasn't completely overstepped.
"Where did this come from?"
"Ale let it slip last time we grabbed coffee and the joy on Rudy's face was so blinding that I thought maybe we should try it."
"Honey--"
"Please, just once."
"But I--"
"It doesn't have to be a title! It can be soft and casual, no expectations."
"You don't--"
"I promise I'll be good for it."
Oh.
Your gaze meets the other boys' and you all take a good look at your Johnny. At some point during his pleading he brought himself down to kneel in front of you. His broad shoulders are slumped forward in submission, his hands clenched together so tightly his fingertips are completely white. Price nods at you, the other two eagerly nodding along as well.
Leaning forward, you grab him by the jaw, gently bringing his head to rest against your thigh.
Running your fingers through his hair, you utter out a low, "Sweet little thing like you just wants to be good, don't you papi?"
Johnny's eyes glaze over slightly, a shy, dazed smile growing on his face. There's not an ounce of hesitation in him as he nuzzles his face into your thigh, just sweet elation. Pleased grumbles escape the others, making Johnny's smile grow bigger.
You make sure to add it into your regular circulation.
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shadow4-1 · 14 hours
Text
I'm just imagining an a/b/o dynamic where the entire 141, including you, are all Alphas. Except, after a few years of such close contact something starts to shift.
You start to become an Omega.
"Why is this happening to me?" You all but wail. It hurts to breathe, everything feels like it's on fire. Your stomach twists again, painful cramps shooting white hot lighting up your spine. "Why does it hurt so bad?"
Your pack is all around you, trying to soothe you in anyway they can but it's not working. Everything hurts, your teeth feel like they're going to crack from how tight you have them gritted. The wave of pain ebbs for a few gracious seconds before starting up all over again. You whine and sob and reach out for any of your team.
"Whats going on?" Price huffs, his cool hand cupping at your face. His touch is the barest relief even as he drags down one of your lower eyelids. He tuts in an intense concern. "Simon, have you seen this before?"
The larger male drops to one knee. He gives you a quick once over before dipping his head towards yours. He presses the front of his mask to the crown of your head. Through your labored panting you barely hear him take in a deep inhale of scent.
He coughs and stands back up too quickly. Judging by his flighty gaze, something is seriously wrong. Another tremor of pain wracks your body. You open mouth squeal. It's getting so much worse.
"Simon!" Soap growls, trying to bring his fellow alpha back from whatever memory he'd fallen into. "What's wrong wit' 'er?"
"She's turning into an Omega."
Everyone in the room turned their gazes towards Ghost, even you, despite your pain. You? An Omega? But you've always been and Alpha. It was part of the necessary requirements to be a part of the 141. You'd been genetically tested, hormonally tested, and aptitude tested. You were a full blooded Alpha coming from generations of Alphas.
"There's...ngh...no way." You hiccup out, tears blurring your vision.
"That doesn't make any sense. That can't happen." Gaz adds. He rubs at your back. His cool touch soothes even more of your pain into a dull throb, but it isn't enough.
"M' n' Alpha!" You cry out in anguish, the first of many tears finally dripping down your cheeks.
Something about Ghost's words hurt worse than any pain your body was making you go through. Try as you may to deny it, he was right. You could feel your body changing, altering, breaking and bending.
"Why is this happening to me?" You wail.
"There's too many of us." Ghost huffs, he glances around at your pack.
"Why does that matter?" Soap grumbles, scooping an arm around your center to pull you up into a sitting position. "We're a pack."
"That's just it." Ghost sighs tiredly.
"I've never heard of this being 'n issue." Price butts in. He grabs your face again and brushes the tears off your cheeks. "Task Forces are fully Alpha run. They 'ave been for years."
"If what Ghost is saying is right, it's biological, Captain." Gaz huffs, his thoughts visibly racing. "Too many Alphas, not enough Omegas. It means we'd go extinct."
"But why didn't she change earlier?" Johnny asks. You teeter in his hold but he keeps you upright. He lets you lean against his chest. He smells more comforting than usual.
"It's hormonal. She's been with us almost three years now, it takes time." Ghost says. Price nods in agreement.
"I'm an Alpha!" You sob, trying wrench yourself free from the multiple men around you. "I- I don't want to be bred. I don't want to be claimed! I'm an Alpha!"
"We're know you are, Love." Price breathes softly. He continued to wipe tears away from your face with a tenderness that only makes your despair swell further. "But this is happening, and we can't stop it."
"Take me to sick bay, please. They'll...they'll put me on blockers or something! Please, anything but this! I don't want to be an Omega."
The pack looks toward Ghost but he shakes his head.
"This is you first heat. The blockers will kill you."
You scream in pain, fear, and frustration. Another wave of excruciating pain washes over you. You wrench out of Soap's grip and fall against the floor. The tile is cool against your flushed skin.
As much as you hate him for it, Ghost is right.
This is your first heat.
Your back arches off the floor. Your toes curl and you squeal, shaking, gasping, panting hot breaths. You can feel yourself start to sweat. There's a sudden gush of wetness between your thighs. Embarrassment floods you. You try to curl into a ball but your body keeps being wracked with tremors.
"H-help me..." You cry out weakly, sobbing into the tile.
Your pack seems to finally get a whiff of your fluctuating scent. All around you, you watch as one by one each of their gazes grow more and more pointed. All of you know what must be done. After all, you're an Omega now.
...and there's no going back.
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dante-mightdie · 7 hours
Note
maybe in the middle of a shootout reader does something that automatically saves the 141 from death but 141 thinks that reader was being reckless and doesn't listen to orders so they neglect reader because reader disobeyed a direct order
please inject this angst into my veins i’m obsessed feed me more the worms are hungry
c/w: this is sad, angst, silent treatment, don’t ask me to make reader leave them I love the suffering
work stays at the door. that was a golden rule in your odd but stable relationship. even if you get pissed off with each other at work, you leave it at base until the next shift…
so apparently the boys must have fucking amnesia.
this wasn’t the first time you had angered them at work but like previously stated, it never followed you in through the front door, take its shoes off and hang its coat. never in the house
but this time you put not only your life at risk, but also civilian lives. just to save them. luckily, no one was hurt but you still disobeyed your captains orders. and just like you leave work at work, you leave your heart at home too
he was still your captain. actions have consequences so he yelled on about for a good hour whilst the others stood beside him, shaking their heads at you disapprovingly
so when you got home to find that they were clearly still in work mode judging from the way simon shrugged you off when you tried to hug him in the kitchen, stalking off to the shower and slamming the door
or from the way johnny and kyle just went straight into the garage to work out and blow off some steam, giving john a kiss and not you
and if that wasn’t enough, the way john turned his head away from you when you tried to kiss him had to be the damning evidence. his face was stone cold the entire time he was alone with you in the kitchen before he went and locked himself in the home office
it went on like that for a few days, waking up to find that they had gone out without you. conversations ceasing the moment you enter the room. the lack of affection was the worst. perhaps tied with the general loneliness. none of them had really said a word to you in days
not even when you grabbed a pillow and blanket and set up camp in the living room for the night after a week of the silent treatment
or when they heard you crying in the bathroom whilst getting ready for bed, wondering how long it will be before your lovers open their arms for you again, if they ever will…
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