#mafia!price
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Mafia!Price warm up because I am… so tired. I’ve had back-to-back events the last few days and ya bitch canNOT hang. So, while I rehydrate and wait for caffeine to work it’s magic, here’s this:
Part 1 here
Mr. Price is the best boss you’ve ever had. He’s straightforward and blunt, but unfalteringly courteous. Likes things a certain way — his own way — but that’s nothing you’re unfamiliar with from rich men responsible for billions. At very least, he seems to respect when you challenge him.
“We’ve always done records this way,” he says.
“Yes, sir,” you answer serenely, “but that was before you had me.”
He stares you down and you beam right back, tablet balanced on your forearm. One beat, two. In the corner of your eye, you see Gaz shift. You tilt your head at your boss.
He sits back in his big office chair, thumb swiping over his index and middle fingers. A gesture you’ve been mentally cataloguing as “contemplative” — perhaps deciding if he’s annoyed or amused. You don’t let yourself get nervous seeing it; you’re good at your job and you know it. He’s going to know it too, by god.
“And what do you have to do with it, luv?”
Your smile stretches wider as you take that as an invitation to round his desk. He turns and shifts a bit to make room for you, eyebrows ticking up as you set a neatly paper-clipped report in front of him, highlighted for convenience.
“See here?” You point at one section, a list of finance records. “Inconsistencies that the accountants took two months to notice. Two!”
He grunts as you set it aside, face up, for further perusal and then show him the next set. Different highlighter (and a smiley face in the corner).
“And look here, doing it this way, we noticed the discrepancies within a week,” you explain.
He picks up the page, eyes scanning over it thoroughly before setting it down. Taps his index finger over the discrepancy (circled in bright red) twice.
“Would you happen to have the account — ah, thank you.”
You hum, smoothing the sticky note (hot pink, shaped like a heart) onto the page. “So what do you think, sir?”
He runs a hand down his face, palm rasping over his beard. But there is a grateful note to his gaze as he glances at you.
“We’ll be doing it this way from now on, then.”
“Thrilling, sir. I’ll send out a memo.”
He waves you off, frown already forming on his face. You politely leave his office, stop by the break room to make a fresh cup of tea (a dollop of cream only, no sugar) and knock on the closed door. It’s Gaz that opens it.
“For the boss,” you say. “Before heads start rolling.”
“You’re a doll,” he breathes, accepting the cup and slipping back inside.
You happily toddle back to your desk and begin calling appointment confirmations. You’ve got about a million emails and a hundred calls to make.
—
Working for Price also comes with some… eccentricities. For one, you have a driver now.
Usually Farah, sometimes her partner Alex. On the rare occasion it’s Gaz. They always usher you into the backseat. On rainy days (so, most days in the UK) they hold an umbrella over your head while you scurry into the luxury leather interior of whatever stupidly expensive ride you’re taking.
That was a non-negotiable when you and Mr. Price discussed the details of your employment contract with him. Something about safety…? You feel silly being driven to work as an assistant, but it was your first encounter with the Steel Gaze of Decision and it was unfortunately effective.
Not that you mind the rides! All three of your usual drivers are wonderful. So friendly and chatty. You love hearing about Alex’s niece and Farah’s hobbies, Gaz’s little “spats” with Soap. You spoil them with extra treats from whatever bakery you make them stop at for morning breakfast. (Always local, you love supporting small businesses and strong arm Price into doing so as well).
There’s the gun as well. You’ve only seen it once or twice, always discreetly hidden under his suit jacket. A shoulder holster, all black. Pretend that you don’t see it because… well, you’re not entirely sure it’s legal and you’d rather live in the blissful cloud of plausible deniability.
And speaking of — there’s his bodyguard. To be fair, bodyguards aren’t a new or weird presence with your bosses. Expensive men, they need protection. Ghost is a different kind though.
He always covers the lower half of his face — actually, he’s covered head to toe. Usually in black, sometimes with little skeleton or skull motifs. And he’s fucking big, which is saying something because Mr. Price isn’t a small man either.
Ghost hardly interacts with you, but he’s unfailingly polite when he does. Not talkative, but he holds doors for you, has walked you down to the car. Even once attitude-checked a guest that decided to be rude to you. Didn’t even say anything, just walked into the guy’s personal bubble and stared him down until he subsided. Then he turned, gave you a nod, and you squeezed his arm before toddling off to let Price know his appointment had arrived.
All around the vibes in the office are pleasant, if sometimes stuffy. A little odd. All of his employees are polite if not kind to you, and Price himself is a fair and reasonable man — at least with you.
(The first time you heard him raise his voice through the closed office door nearly scared the daylights out of you. He always uses a low, even tone when speaking to you, so to hear his voice booming like that was something of a shock. Even more shocking was when he opened the door — damn near throwing his “guest” out — before turning to you.
“Call Farah when you have a mo’, would you?” He asked, calm as you please.
You blinked, still having war flashbacks of your last boss. “Yes, sir.”
“Cheers, luv.”)
There’s also the “field trips” as you call them.
Mr. Price is something of a very “hands on” businessman (“micromanager” you tease when he’s in a good mood) who has a hand in several industries. One of them is shipping. Which means that sometimes you find yourself standing beside him in warehouses or at loading docks. And of course you have to go, you’re his assistant! You take meeting notes, provide information or report details. Basically act as his second brain while he reams out idiots or organizes plans.
You suck it up, but you rather hate the smell of low tide. And the occasional gusts of blood on the sea breeze from fishermen gutting their catches. Price catches you looking ill once or twice and at least makes an effort to keep things short after that.
“Poor thing,” Soap teases when you’re in the back of the car, fussing at your wind-swept hair. “Get a bit blown, did you?”
“MacTavish,” Price snaps.
That’s the other thing. Even the slightest hint of suggestive or inappropriate words at your expense are met with firm, almost harsh, reprimand from your boss. It does wonders for you nerves and your respect for him.
“Wish I’d known we were going to the docks,” you sigh, carefully picking at pins to fix your hair. “I would have used more hairspray.”
“Thought I told you?” Price says.
“No, sir, you did not,” you answer, long-suffering. “You know you can put it into the scheduling app, right?”
He blinks. “Scheduling app.”
You blink back at him. “Oh, dear. Here, look at this.”
You spend the entire ride back to the office showing him how your scheduling software works so that you don’t have to deal with any more surprise dock visits.
#cod#my writing#fanfiction#reader fic#mafia!au#mafia boss price#mafia!price#assistant reader#oddly wholesome for a mafia au
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Mafia Price mayhaps?
Pretty please :)
Price didn't get into business because he wanted money or because he liked power.
He had enough for a small farm and a buffer period of figuring out whatever the fuck was happening in his life, even after the dishonorable discharge over a fuck up he had to cover for the higher-ups. He didn't go into illegal gun trading and organized crime for the love of the game. He had money when he was booted out of the military.
It's just that his boys didn't.
No money, no purpose, only a dishonorable discharge and feeling of betrayal on their backs - and yes, he understands it's a pitiful fucking excuse for starting to support the very same system he sometimes had to fight, but he does what he has to do. Ghost, Gaz and Soap needed a new goal in their lives - and something as far from being a merc as possible. Besides, after years of service to her Majesty, Price deserves a luxurious leather chair to sit on and good imported cigars to smoke.
He also deserves you, a pretty little thing who is way too nice for him. You're out of his world, completely - a nice girl, a good girl. In the past, when he was still Captain Price, he might have considered picking you up with some cheesy one-liner, buying you a drink or something nice to wear, and then ghost you for forever because his job is too dangerous to allow himself connections. He would have prided himself in thinking he is keeping you safe while jerking off to some vaguely similar porn star.
Well, Price is done being a selfless servant of his community. He deserves the girl, even if that means moving a bit too fast and having Ghost choke her just enough so she would fall right into John's arms and in his bed. If you're a smart girl, you would know better than to try and resist the most dangerous guy in the whole country and his henchmen. If you're a good girl, you would know just how much he is willing to give you - as long as you don't try to force him away.
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Looked at my writing journal and there's some pretty good ideas about Mafia!141 and Bear/Dragon!Price in here <.< ...
if you see something, no you don't <3
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thinkin' about 1950s!mafia!price and the pretty little lounge singer who performs at his club. waits for you in your dressing room after your set with a bottle of disgustingly expensive champagne. reaches down to pull a knife from his sock to pop it open with...
calls you dearie, sugarpie, dollface...
kisses your pouty lips and mumbling an apology when he gets pulled away from your dates to deal with ahem... business...
dresses you up in the finest silks, furs, and jewels so he can parade you around on his arm, showing everyone what belongs to him...
has a wicked temper that only you can calm him down from. cupping his cheeks and saying his name in that soft, sing-song voice that never fails to melt his heart
#mw2#cod mw2#captain john price x reader#captain john price#john price x reader#john price#captain price#captain price x reader#1950s!mafia!price
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Imagine that when the tf141 gets betrayed by Graves and captured, word makes it to Mafia!reader… and all hell breaks loose in the home of the next Don.
Vases shattered on walls, tables flipped over in a flurry of anger, and the messenger, dead on the floor.
Readers composed stance had been long abounded, and replaced with a rage and an animal. They look up from the pool of blood on the ground, growling at the goon the just enters the room. Even the air stood still.
“Where?”
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
This wasn’t how Johnny thought he would die, lined up with his teammates and partners in life, with guns pressed at the back of their heads, forced to kneel for a merch as he talked on and on. Soap closed his eyes, tending waiting for the bullet…. It never came.
An array of gunshots rang around them,mixing with the cries of fallen men, before the door blocking it all bursted open.
“Phillip, Phillip”, reader said calmly, as they walked up to graves.
“Why do you do this?” They question, before sighing, “everyone in you circle knows not to touch what belongs to la vena d'oro”….
They giggle, before full blown laughing, then suddenly stopping,to look at their lovers bound on the floor, their eyes soften,before callings few of their men to help them up and get them to safety.
Price awoke to being carried into a car when a shot rang out of the base….
#poly 141 x reader#cod x male reader#task force 141 x reader#john price x male reader#mafia au#141 x reader#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#cod x reader
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Mafia!Price is NOT your fucking aesthetic. A full comprehensive list as to why.
He cooka da pizza!
He goes to church every Sunday. A massive Roman Catholic Church downtown. Ancient building with floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows depicting the life and loss of Christ. Full two hour masses that he always wears a suit to. At first it starts as some last-ditch attempt to absolve him of his guilt, but then it became habit.
And maybe it was his wife. Her parents were devout and just about keeled over when they found out their only daughter was married by a quick ceremony in the courthouse to a man they’d never met. Her mother was the worst, though it was to be expected. Likely didn’t know John had won his new bride when her husband didn’t have the funds left to pay off his debt. Fucking miracle she hadn’t yet done the math and realized his first child was born seven months later. He’d be persecuted to no end.
There was a target on his back since the wedding. Always put him in the hot seat on Sunday evening dinners while his wife was trying to wrangle their children into eating their vegetables. Drilled into him about work and life and why he always seemed too busy to prioritize “something worthwhile” in his life. Mother sets in on him like she’d been waiting for the opening all evening.
“So, John. Remind us what you do for work.” Accusatory. Glaring over her barely touched plate of roast at him.
“Contracting. Bit of this and that.” He fights the urge to roll his eyes, if only barely.
“Hm. And what does that entail? Can’t keep you as busy as you swear you are.” She’s unabashed. Her husband doesn’t share the sentiment. He sighs into his glass of brandy and tries to catch her eye.
“Don’t do much hands-on these days. Project management and bookkeeping for me now. Brought on a few guys to do the grunt. You remember from when we did your bathroom, I’m sure.” He doesn’t shy away from the challenge. Principled.
“Boys would do well to have some structure. Bet they haven’t been in a church since they were baptized.” She ignores his parry and switches to what she really wants to talk about after looking over to her daughter who is all but force-feeding them florets of broccoli. Typical.
He finally wore down after a Christmas where the only gift he got from them was a deep brown leather-wrapped bible. Used. Split down the spine, dog-eared pages. Like they’d stolen it from the shelf in the pew for the dolts who weren’t well-mannered enough to bring their own.
From then, it had become a welcome escape from reality. Church in the morning. 8am service, because he was up before the sun anyway. Sipping coffee in the kitchen beforehand, pouring over a heavy binder with the title ‘family finance’ scrawled in his wife’s delicate handwriting across the front.
He could hear her wrestling with their two boys in the bathroom upstairs. Their indignant screeching clueing him in that he should probably get up and help, but he always tried to steal a few more moments to himself. Calm before the storm.
The boys have sour looks on their faces when they stomp down the stairs not five minutes later, though they’re nothing in comparison to their mother who’s only a few steps behind. They get the deep furrow in their brows from him, the bitter curl of their lips from her.
“Glad you’re enjoying your slow start, John. Really.”
He should feel worse for not helping. Tries to lay her hackles back down by snapping the binder shut and pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. She barely pauses to accept it before pushing past to pack her purse. Four bibles, his ratty one, her perfectly white one with different colored sticky notes poking out the sides, and two smaller children's bibles that she’d shove in their laps for appearance sake. Snacks for the boys, and a flash of the handle of her small handgun- safetied and then shoved into the bottom of her tote.
“Should’ve shouted f’you needed help. Can’t hear a thing down here.” The boys snicker when he winks over at them. They’re outfitted in their Sunday best. Slacks with damp finger marks on the thighs from where she’d tried to smooth out wrinkles. Buttoned-down shirts that they were already tugging at the collars of. Hair gelled back, no doubt the reason for their griping earlier.
She doesn’t find it nearly as funny as they do. Shoots him a nasty look over her shoulder before disappearing into the spare room to grab a pair of low heels.
“We’re already late. If we have to sit in the back again, you’ll never hear the end of it.” It’s not an empty threat. They’d missed one service and some aunt had told her mother in passing. Took three months to get her to stop bringing it up.
“S’not even half seven. Takes fifteen minutes to get there.”
It’s supposed to mollify her, but it has the adverse effect. She looks ready to throw a shoe at him when she sits on the bottom stair to tug them on. He raises his hands in surrender.
“Easy.”
Somehow all four of them make it to the car in one piece. He sends a message to Kyle before they leave telling him to save them a space toward the front to err on the side of caution.
#I'm mafia-baiting sorry#This was really just to get me back into posting my writing lol#moongreenlight#moongreenlightwrites#sephspeaks#cod mw2#call of duty#cod x reader#141 headcanons#drabble#price cod#captain john price#john price#captain price#price x reader#captain john price x reader#john price x reader#mafia au
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my masterlist💖
mdni!
welcome to the feral things that come from my brain :) feel free to request a trope!
i use #tornadothoughts for all my drabbles and fics and #tornado speaks🙊 for random thoughts
do not repost my work without credit :)
all fics are f!reader unless specified
simon riley (smut):
the man next door (each post is a diff universe)
fluffy simon riley:
mafia au!simon riley (arranged marriage)
johnny mactavish
kyle garrick
enemies to lovers drabble
john price
tired of everyone but you
pad shopping
ghoap x reader
gazs perspective (drabble)
jealousy, jealousy
gender neutral fics (simon riley)
two lieutenants series (simon riley x f!reader)
ts lyrics and the 141
renegade (simon riley x reader)
ttpd headcanons (any 141 member)
#simon ghost riley#simon riley smut#mafia!141#john soap mctavish x reader#simon riley wife#simon riley x reader#johnny soap mactavish x reader#tornadothoughts#simon riley x you#cod 141#mafia au#ghost call of duty#john soap mactavish#neighbor!simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#soap x you#john soap mactavish x reader#john price x female reader#captain price x reader#john price x you#price x reader#fluff#ghost x reader#soap x reader#captain john price#ex husband ghost#ghoap#ghost imagine#gaz x reader#kyle garrick x reader
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This probably isn't an original thought, but imagine for a second if you so please. Mafia 141. Price is the boss ofc, he owns a big big big club and a bunch of other things and he's filthy rich. Johnny and gaz are bartenders at the club and ghost is a bouncer. they are all also involved with Price's Mafia stuff they just do the previously mentioned stuff as like a side thing, you know? Now enter reader...poor poor reader. They or a relative get in trouble with price, having to pay a big debt or something but of course they can't pay for some reason, so instead, price makes them work at the club, no pay. Could be another bartender or a performer (like singing not the other thing you freaks 눈‸눈). But now listen closely. At first the boys are like "look at this fuckin loser." About the reader and then after a little while they're like "...look at this fuckin loser." BUT AFFECTIONATELY! While the reader is just trying to get this shit over with. Thoughts????
#cod mw2#cod au#mafia au#task force 141#captain price x reader#simon riley x reader#john mactavish x reader#gaz x reader#soap x reader#john price x reader#ghost x reader#Mafia 141
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Mafia!141 Masterlist
a place for me to put all my mafia!141 related fics so i don't bog down my regular masterlist!
Series:
In Limbo: (Ghost) is it wrong to fall in love while waiting to die?
Price x wife!Reader:
he likes showing you off
when his meetings go wrong...
treating him
proposal and baby talk
john "that's my fuckin' wife" price
how you two fall in love
you're jealous
you're drunk and jealous
taking care of you after you have a kid
your first time
you're insecure
you don't think you're a good mum
Ghost x shy!Reader:
you meet him for the first time
you're at Price's club
headcanons
everyone's watching
he learns you're a virgin
you're drunk
you wanna suck his dick
he helps you feel confident
he helps you feel confident again
you want a baby
he wants you to ride him
more confidence again
he helps you masturbate
guard dog
Soap x nurse!Reader:
how you two meet
you're grumpy after work
no touching
how you two really meet
Gaz x mafia!Reader:
you're a proper pain in the ass
you need a place to stay
Other:
Leftovers [1]: Mr. and Mrs. Price don't know how to take care of you properly. Simon is hellbent on saving you, no matter the means.
Leftovers [2]: you're his, now
Leftovers [3]: you love him
the boys are drunk
you can find any small comments and other anon asks by searching #mafia!141 in my blog!
#mafia!price#mafia!141#captain john price smut#captain john price x reader#john price x reader#captain price#cod smut#john price smut#captain price smut#price smut#mafia!ghost#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#gaz x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#f!reader
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Mafia!Price/Assistant!Reader Masterlist
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5 (2/11/24)
Part 6 (3/8/24)
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the line cook thing burrowed its way into my brain, omg.
price laying the charm on thick to the new server. they're a tired, clearly overworked thing. he worries about them, even when they're not on the schedule. makes sure to feed them breakfast, lunch, dinner - whatever meal they're up for, and quickly learns their favorites. a few weeks in, he's scandalized to learn the diner's their third job. no wonder they're always tired! he's got to do something about it.
sorry to ramble in your ask box!
Price is absolutely in charge of the kitchen, barking orders at Ghost, Soap and any other unlucky line cooks under him. He really only stops in order to lean against the pass through and ask, "Everything alright sweetheart?" When his favorite server swings by. He's slick with it, terribly charming in a way that he probably shouldn't be.
He hates order substitutions and will send Ghost out to menace anyone trying to make massive changes to menu items. It's not a fancy restaurant by any means, but it's still well trafficked with a lot of regulars. (He might even like one or two of them) He's quick to take new staff under his wing if he thinks they're having a hard time (or if they're extra pretty) and is in fact scandalized by anyone working at the diner as a third job. He's got a meeting with the owner to talk about paying the servers more, may or may not set a loaded gun on the table during this talk.
#ghoul speaks#lmao ok sorry this has to stay in the tags but#mafia au except it doesn't involve the mafia it only involves the restaurant they're using as a front#god those places always have great food#empty as hell but great food#nah it's just a regular restaurant#captain john price
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Mafia!141...
Ghost sat in the back corner of the diner. It gave him the best overlook of the room he needed to scout the place out. The diner wasn’t anything fancy. Small mom and pops shop that still held on the ‘50s service style and appearance. But that wasn’t the real reason why Ghost is here.
The diner was on the edge of the city, a previously agreed upon location that the authorities don’t look at often when shady deals need to be made. The perfect place for a meeting.
The meeting wasn’t for a few more days, but Ghost had orders. And Ghost always follows orders.
It was moderately busy for lunch time on a random Tuesday, half the booths filled with couples or groups being served and workers buzzing about, a well-run machine. There wasn’t really anything for Ghost to note.
Except you.
A younger waitress, post-college age, fidgeting with the uniform’s apron when you’re not taking orders or delivering food. Mingling with the customers in your section, cracking smiles and laughs. Possibly to get a better tip. You moved like a current.
If Ghost wasn’t playing close attention, he would’ve mistaken you as a manager or even hostess. But from the way the cooks and other waiters had silently corrected you when you made a misstep occasionally, he could tell you were still learning. Pretty thing.
“How are you doing over here, sugar?” You came to check on him again, so diligent and attentive. So eager to speak to the boogeyman.
It’s been a while since someone approached Ghost with as much enthusiasm as you do. Maybe since Johnny. If you were scared, you hid it from him so well. Ghost was dressed down, trying to blend in as much as his large frame would allow, with only a black face mask on and hoodie up, his cropped blond hair hidden under. “Could I get another refill, doll?”
A color grew on your cheeks, but you still gave a good effort to hide it from him, “Sure thing,” You picked up his beverage and headed back towards the kitchen. Ghost was unable to avoid watching you.
How you moved. How you smiled. How you laughed.
It made him want to know how you smell. How you taste. A hunger began to simmer in Ghost’s chest.
Ghost scolded himself for thinking about a waitress in a random diner. He should be paying attention to everything but you. He scanned the diner once more, taking note of how many exits were there, how many people were working at one time, how many parents and their kids ate here. Ghost was already visualizing the meeting and how it would go, even a backup plan if things went south.
Ghost’s fingers tapped on the table, the gears turning like a well-oiled machine. Like he’s done this a thousand times before. Because he has done this a thousand times before.
“Here you go!”
Ghost’s fingers stuttered...
More to come~
next part
Masterlist
#mafia!141#mafia!au#cod#captain john price#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#kyle gaz garrick#poly 141 x reader#vnardshoard
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Price!Mafia 👀💦
Man definitely be the type to carry the reader bridal style over small little things like a mud puddle don’t want those heels to get dirty
kicking and squealing rn
he’s just such a gentleman!!! always pulls your chair out, opens every door you’re gonna walk in, helps you put on your coat or offers you his when it gets chilly
always refills your glass when it gets empty and he always makes sure you get served first
kneels down and gently grips your ankle as he helps you put your heels on <33 places a kiss to the inside of your knee with a cheeky grin
melts when you call him jonathan. sounds like honey pouring from your lips
#mw2#captain john price#john price#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader#john price x reader#captain price#1950s!mafia!price
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crazy how everytime someone hates on fat readers, price goes and fucks 5 more fat women :/
#running my mouth🎀#because the amount of hate i just saw abt fat / chubby readers was ABSURD.#no way ur that mad#call of duty#call of duty x reader#fat reader#chubby reader#captain john price x reader#captain john price#i just read a fat reader price im waiting for next update#it’s mafia au it’s soooo good
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Lemme put this here before I say anything:
please don't tag the artist...thanks
Anyways, today I decided to study @/valiants arts, specifically their Price :] mainly learning the way they draw eyes and body (hUGE I LOVE)
also mixing in my own style too, here's the results:
Link of the second ref used
Doodles without the ref and stuff
#evil Price? i draw him like this more likely than you think...#werewolf vibes...or mafia? hmm#this was a lot of fun...i think i'll stick to the eyes hehe#if they notice this i will die of being perceived pls im nowhere their level yet askjdhaksdj#i love their stuff...urgh...#gummmyart#doodle#captain john price#captain price#john price#call of duty#cod#cod mw1#call of duty mw1#call of duty fanart#cod fanart
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