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cloudypariah · 4 months

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How to perpetrate and sabotage your own kidnapping: A guide for dummies.

- The creation of the board (and its subsequent discovery)

Summary: Step One: host a brainstorming session with your teammates on how best to kidnap your future abductee. Step Two: have said abductee show up half an hour into the session and begin correcting your entire plan. Step Three: realise at the beginning of their impromptu presentation the target has absolutely no idea that they’re the target. Step Four: fail anyway.

Pairing: Dark!Poly!Task Force 141 x fem!Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Content tags: Dark content - Discussions around kidnapping, tense situations. If this is not your cup of tea, please go and find something different might better suited your palate. This is an 18+ fic meaning minors do not interact with this work. No one has permission from me to repost, copy or translate my work. No one has my permission to put my work into any AI source.

Notes: This is my first foray into the COD fandom and will be the first part in a dark comedy series. Please let me know what you think. Not proofread very well, sorry for any mistakes! Thanks for the motivation @live-love-be-unique !

Link to Task Force 141 masterlist / Link to COD masterlist

Captain John Price likes to think he knows his men well enough to trust them when his back is turned. Now that itself doesn’t necessarily mean knowing each and every one of their dirty secrets - he definitely wouldn’t come out smelling like fresh daisies if any number of his were revealed - but it does mean that he has the awareness to recognise that they all share one particular secret.

He sees it in the way Lieutenant Riley’s body language shifts when you give him his medical forms to look over, your consideration at offering him the option to disclose only certain personal information making the reserved soldier relax just enough to offer you a low thanks, accompanied with a stare that stretches on for a few moments longer than considered socially polite.

It’s also so amazingly obvious with Sergeant MacTavish. John’s surprised everyone else misses the way Soap’s smile takes a little longer to fade after departing for yet another mission, your swift congratulations on completing yet another physiotherapy appointment - “ Keep it up the good work big guy” - leaving the Scotsman floating on cloud nine damn near until the plane lands.

And how could he forget Sergeant Garrick? The man’s quick to change his tune and focus up, but the captain has observed Kyle absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder, thumb gingerly stroking the spot where your palm was only moments before, your figure long gone as you retreat down the corridor to where you came from.

No, Jonathan Price doesn’t miss a thing about his men. And it only takes two weeks and a long chat in the corner booth of the bar one quiet night - sans you or Laswell - before somehow his place becomes the meeting point for an unusual, though not unwelcome, topic - you.

More specifically, how to keep you.

The wooden shit box of a sports bar was where the first two facts were confirmed amongst them: 1. Every single one of the 141 men wanted you for themselves, but they weren’t above sharing. 2. You weren’t worth killing each other over, not when there was a much easier solution staring them in the face.

John’s house became the go-to place to discuss fact number three - They needed a plan.

It was Gaz who initially suggested the whiteboard after numerous interjections from Ghost and John; from everything to how to keep this from Laswell, to deciding which of your usual hangouts would provide them with the best opportunity to commence your “relocation”, to how to delicately but firmly explain said "relocation" to you once it was complete. Kyle loves his brothers in arms and never regrets a moment where his life is on the line if it means saving any one of them, but his patience began to wear thin when Soap got bored and started using goddamn paper planes instead of words to get his point across. At that Price finally relented and bought the damn thing.

Now, John was expecting you to pop by his place on Wednesday night to drop some papers off. A perfect opportunity, were it not for the fact that the gentlemen were still disagreeing on where to relocate you. However, it’ll allow you to grow more comfortable with him while he has some alone time with you, your presence like a balm on a wound - soothing and necessary (at least to him).

He had been looking forward to seeing you… tomorrow. So when you turn up not just on the doorstep but in the middle of the bloody hallway in his own bloody home halfway through the 141 “guys night”, his secondary action of shitting bricks quickly overrides his primary instinct to eliminate the threat.

He’s on his way back from the bathroom when he sees you standing, familiar folders firm in your grasp - fucking hell, is that his spare key too? - and a sour expression on your pretty face.

Your eyes narrow further when you spot him, striding over with fury rolling off you in small waves. “Captain Price, I know you did not leave these dossiers on my desk just before the end of my work day with a note stating they all need to be completed by the end of the work day.”

John’s senses are briefly overwhelmed by you being so close to him, the sight of you angry having a different effect on him than what you had originally intended. He’s never seen it before, and his hand twitches when you’re less than a foot away - fluctuating adrenaline or the desire to reach out and hold you, he’s not sure which is more prevalent.

He always forgets to not be so obvious around you, but it isn’t as though you usually notice. (He’s not sure if the thought should make him feel sad or grateful.)

The sounds of his men arguing in the background, merely the next room over, are enough to bring reality crashing down hard.

His voice is deliberately loud and stalwart when replies. “You can’t be here.”

“Tough shit. Your lads night can wait.” You lean past him to the origin of what your gut was telling you was the sounds of the remaining 141 members quarreling. It’s easy to slip past Captain Price once your mind is set, the push of files against his chest preventing him from reacting for a few seconds - all the time you need to move down the hallway to where everyone else is bound to be.

John is quick to rush behind you, the arguing noises having swiftly changed to near cartoon-like crashes just moments before you enter the room.

Ghost has migrated to the corner of the sitting area, standing as stiff as a fucking nutcracker, a mountain of crumpled notes and paper planes spilling out from between his arms. (His mask is still on thank god because it’ll hide exactly how caught out he feels, and if there’s one thing Simon Riley cannot stand it’s feeling like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar). His eyes instinctually watch your every move, waiting for your reaction.

Both of your gazes drift to the other side of the room, with neither of you failing to notice how the couch cushions are strewn widely across the space, (with one being stuck on top of a bookshelf for some odd reason) to find not one, but two soldiers gecko’d to the standing whiteboard.

Their demolitions expert is currently splayed out on the left side of the board and desperately grabbing the top of its metal frame, his stomach pressed into the cold porcelain and a left leg hitched up in a poor attempt to conceal the incriminating writing.

Price’s protégé is in a similar state. Dear Gaz has his back against the right side, with his arms outstretched to - much like Johnny - cover as much of their group planning as possible, a coloured marker clasped in each fist.

Two deers in headlights.

The sight of his task force is enough to bring back flashbacks of his original conversation with Kate about bringing these men together because Jesus H. Christ, what the fuck was he thinking?

There are a few moments when nobody moves or dares to breathe…

… except for you, of course.

You waste no time walking over to the two youngest members of the 141 as you attempt to shove them off the board. “Move,” you demand, palms pushing firmly against their sides. “I want to know what’s so important to everyone.” When they refuse, you do your best to stare at them, pleading with a pleasantly soft, “Please.”

Yeah, they both do what you say with ease when they hear that, giving you enough space to take in the somewhat smudged scribbles.

You miss the signal John gives Simon, the Ghost moving closer to your position as John quietly locks the door, and when your attention is drawn back to the board after the other two move you also miss all of the knowing looks shared behind your back. This was very far from ideal, but how can they recover from this?

They hope you understand that whatever comes next, they didn’t plan for it to start this way.

Kyle and John call your name but you ignore them, still processing the information written in front of you.

Johnny flexes his hands, preparing for the worst as you step back and say, “This is… bullshit.”

Every single member stops. That was not the reaction they were expecting.

Turning to face the group, you scoff. “I’m not even kidding. Firstly, you’re using guys' night to work, which is horrible for your mental and emotional health. And you should all know better.”

Four sets of brows furrow in united confusion. You don’t let that deter you from continuing, your arms gesturing haphazardly at the whiteboard. “Secondly, this is hands-down one of the worst brainstorms I have ever seen. This is not cohesive in the fucking slightest. Garrick, mark me.”

Kyle chokes on his spit, his brain short-circuiting before he sees your fingers wiggling at one of the markers he’s holding. The sergeant promptly gives it to you.

Your free hand takes turns pointing at everyone else in the room, a verbal command of, “sit down” directed at each man also. Dumbly and cautiously they all do. Ghost places himself at the end of the couch nearest the entrance, John strategically chooses a spot between yourself and the kitchen, and Soap and Gaz sit closest to you, where the two of them can hear you muttering under your breath as you draw what appears to be a massive cloud shape in the middle of the board.

Once completed, you fill your shape in with the word ‘TARGET’ and slam your free hand against the board. No one flinches, but if one were to look closely there would be some eyes widening in response. Johnny swears he sees one of your eyelids twitch.

“So,” you call out, “what do we know about the target?”

There are not only wide eyes looking at you, there are full glances exchanged between your audience.

“Seeing as you had the nerve to not invite me in your little meeting while keeping me on overtime” - Kyle and John squirm at that, and your finger makes a little circle - “we are going to be working on this project together. With all due respect, I’m not asking.”

Surely not…

And it’s when Captain John Price reviews the writing left over from the others that he realises Kyle and Johnny did one thing right during their clusterfuck of a coverup.

They managed to erase your name.

… you have absolutely no idea you are the target.

A piece of writing far in the coroner catches your attention, and your shoulders slump. “The target likes knitting and ‘The Karate Kid’. In another life we would have been the best of friends.” A dramatic sigh leaves you, “Oh well, at least I’ll be able to give you some insight into the mindset of this individual. Any questions?”

Four hands shoot up.

Rubbing your hands together with glee, a maniac smile grows on your face. “Excellent.”

#dark!141 #poly 141 #darkfic #task force 141 x reader #dark task force 141 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john price x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #sergeant kyle gaz garrick x reader #cod x female reader #female reader #cloudypariah writes

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 1 month

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Napping with Gaz | 497 word Drabble

My Blog is 18+ as is 99% of my content. Do not interact if you are a minor/under the age of 18.

Gaz has upped his nap game since meeting you.

Before you, he would just fall asleep on whatever broken sofa, dilapidated office chair, or cold stretch of floor he could find. You wonder how the man is as lithe and spry as he is, as you know you’d have a permanent crick in your neck if you napped the way he used to.

Now, he’s got a whole plan, with a Do not Disturb schedule set with only extreme emergency contacts allowed to bypass the setting. He has a special wake up sound for a slow, easy rousing from the nap. He also has specific timers depending on the kind of nap he wants to take.

One hour for a good, relaxing deep nap to take with you on lazy Sundays. Half an hour for a refreshing nap midday when things are feeling a little groggy. And a forty-five minute nap for those times his brain is on edge and he knows he needs that extra fifteen minutes to wind down.

Today is the former. He has your shared bed covered in blankets and pillows, and your favourite plushies. There’s a glass of water and a pack of paracetamol on the bedside table just in case either of you wake up with a dry mouth and a headache.

Your heart swells as you see him in just a pair of sweatpants, his chest bare as he lounges amongst the assorted pillows, hand outstretched to beckon you to bed. He’s beaming ear to ear as he looks at you.

“Gaz,” you giggle as you take his hand, lowering yourself down into his open arms as you gather a selection of blankets to wrap around you both, “You’re an angel you know that right?”

“Just want to make sure we’re optimising the time and getting the best out of it, babe,” he responds giddily as he arranges one pillows around both your heads, you crane your neck up to let him slide one under you.

“And I love you for it, thank you,” you say with a sigh as you settle back into his embrace as he spoons you from behind.

“Love you too,” he says, his smile evident in his tone of voice, “Now, timer’s set, close your eyes.”

“So bossy,” you chuckle as you do as you’re told, nestling back against his warm body as he pulls you in tight, his strong forearm banded across your middle.

“You love it,” he returns sleepily as he presses a barely-there kiss to the underside of your jaw before nuzzling into your neck.

You grumble something in mock-protest as you feel yourself drifting off. You feel warm, protected, safe. You stay dozing, napping, drifting in and out of sleep for what seems like hours.

As it happens, Gaz set the wrong timer (he set his morning alarm by mistake) and you both wake up groggy and disorientated three hours later. But you don’t mind, clearly you both needed the rest.

“Just resting my eyes” (Napping with Ghost) Napping with Captain John Price Napping with Soap Napping with König CoD Masterlist

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konigsblog · 3 months

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Omg the fic of stepbro gaz, what if he's humping her with clothes on, removes them saying he's being restricted, and then he's rubbing his dick head all over her clit and whines that he wants to put only the tip in

cw; stepcest, dub-con, manipulation & guilt tripping. 🪦🕊️

“jus’ the tip, please... i promise, baby...”

stepbro!gaz is a mastermind when it comes to guilt tripping. surely, if you truly loved him, you'd do this one special favour, right? :( his eyes are glossy as he runs his calloused fingertips along your body, ranting about how sore he feels, how hurt he is that you don't care to fulfil his needs...

of course, it's pathetic; deranged and shameful for kyle to do such a depravity thing, but he can't help but smirk when you finally agree, letting him stick ‘just the tip’ in, like he'd promised.

he'll call you a dumbass when you complain that that's not just the tip, that he's going too far and going against your shared promise. he'll chuckle quietly, mocking you, burying his face in your neck, getting drunk off of your sweet scent as he grinds deeper inside, his eyes shut tightly as he fucks you sloppily, telling you to stop being stupid, to shut up and take it like a good stepsister... :(

don't worry, dove... just scratch down his back, you've known kyle for so long, just trust him, baby :( he'll make you feel just right...

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whoslibby · 3 months

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you hadn’t of seen price since the two of you breaking up, the main factor was you being twenty one and him being in his early thirties. you hadn’t of seen him in years. but when you came to the bar tonight you saw him.

john price himself, hadn’t of changed a bit as you saw him with his squad mates, your old squad mates. having switched units after the breakup. you wanted to say hello to them but the idea of facing price seemed a little scary.

you walked to the bar as you go and order yourself a drink waiting as gaz walks up to the bar himself. ‘long time no see,’ you say to him, to be polite.

‘likewise, been what, seven years?’ he guessed and you smiled not realising so much time had passed and he still recognised you instantly.

‘how is it? missed me much?’ you teased only for gaz to go a little silent. wary of what he was going to say.

‘we did, price did, a lot,’ he tells you honestly as you let your eyes flicker over to him, who had been staring at you and gaz. he turned away but yet he looked the exact same as he did before, it was crazy to see it.

‘I missed you guys,’ you didn’t say anything about price unsure of if they knew the true reason you switched units.

‘he told us,’ gaz replied seeing how the gears were turning in your head.

‘oh, I didn’t want to by the way,’ you swallowed ‘he said it was for the better.’

gaz didn’t really say anything at that point, you get handed your drink. ‘tell him hi for me,’ was all you could muster up before walking over to a table to go sit down.

cheeky second part

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celestialprincesse · 19 days

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whilst I'm hyperfixating on dolls, thinking about protective childhood best friend Gaz💕🎀

His feelings had started off strictly platonic, protective over the quiet girl next door, who barely spoke up in class, and was generally an outcast due to her being perceived as 'weird' for enjoying picking flowers as to playing sports, and trawling antique shops instead of partying.

As you'd grown up alongside each other, that sentiment had only strengthened. He still so vividly remembers the day he came home to you sat on his porch step, a broken doll, a Blythe that you'd spent hours customising with such love, broken to bits. He'd obviously done the rational thing - spent weeks working in his dad's garage to fix her up, getting his mum to help him sew her teeny tiny dress back up, even asking around the pharmacy for if they sold 'those stick on eyelashes', to the amusement of most of the Boots staff.

To this day, he credits your prompting, and his mums patience for his emergency suturing skills. And Blythe, of course.

He's since made a habit of contributing to your collection, somehow acquiring originals from the seventies still in their boxes, or buying customs that you're sure sell for copious amounts of money. He wasn't there to protect you and your precious doll once, so he'll be sure to make up for it every day since. There's no weirdness about it either. To him, it's cute.

However, when you'd started dating...

Of course, he still had no problem with the collection of little you's on various shelves throughout the house. Save for the bedroom Blythe, lingering on the dresser like some freaky, big headed little guardian angel, who he's convinced is sending him bad juju every time he tries to get nasty with you. Her creator. Mary Shelley type shit.

It becomes second nature for him to turn her around as soon as the two of you go stumbling into the bedroom.

And he begs you to put her in the closet when you go to sleep.

Turns out your SAS boyfriend who's been supporting your collection for years is fucking scared of dolls.

Kyle 'gaz' 'bad Blythe bruja' Garrick

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v1x3n · 2 months

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pretty boy

johnny 'soap' mctavish x kyle 'gaz' garrick masterlist

"shite!" Johnny almost squeals as him and Kyle tumble on top of each other, successfully not injuring themselves whilst they hit the bed. Kyles head bounces off the cold pillow behind him, "fuck!" Kyles drunken chuckles fill the room as Johnny looks down at him worried. "yer head alright?" Kyle nods, Johnny smirks at him as he suddenly realises the position they're in. Johnny's hand almost slips, his face bumped right into Kyles bare chest which makes Johnny's face beam up with a pink tint. Johnny pulls himself up, places his rough hands by each side of Kyle and chuckles. the smell of beers flavour the room, the drunken laughs and the two shirtless guys could be the start to a gay porno.

yet this wasn't just all film , it was real. "my head tingles" Kyle looks up at Johnny, just to notice Johnny's smug smirk. "what's with the face, tav?" to that Johnny spreads Kyles legs apart with his own body, Kyles legs both wrapped around Johnny's waist, "want something?" Kyle bites onto his lip and gazes up at McTavish. the sorta feeling of love overwhelms them both.

"dunno, you're jus' pretty" Johnny's head tilts to the side, almost to get a better look at Kyle. Kyle giggles at that and wraps his arm around Johnny, pulling him closer. "'m sleepy" Kyle mumbles, his banging headache and his fluttering eyelids could just wanna make him fall fast asleep, but he doesn't want too.

when you have a big bulky man on top of you, who would miss the chance to shag him just to sleep?

"ya might need to keep me awake, jus' in case ?"

"I have n idea on how.." Johnny pulls his face closer to Kyle, the two boys breath mixing together. "oh really?" Kyle smirks and grabs each of Johnny's cheeks, his blush covered cheeks - which only grow more rosy when they make physical contact.

Kyle slightly gasps when Johnny's lips are brought to Kyles, the small peck is sloppy and wet. the kiss breaks as Johnny mutters under his breath, "fucken hell, pretty boy"

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ taglist: @xxshadowbabexx // @wonyoungloversblog // @ambitiousabi4288 // @royaltysuite // @tiredlittle-wallflower // @nic-stars // @snowyaddiction

comment to join main taglist!

based off these two art works xx and xx by the lovely @yakowo !!

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ethereal-night-fairy · 19 days

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To the Edge of Chaos

Pirate!Gaz x Female Reader (of mixed Arab decent)

After being accused of murder of a high ranking officer, Kyle flees the country with his friends and comrades in tow. They never look back on their lives as naval officers, instead they forge their future in new beginnings becoming the most renowned and feared crew across the seven seas.

It's only years later that fate intertwine his journey with someone who resembles home yet feels so foreign. Nostalgia threatens his way of life but is he willing to let go of her so soon? Especially when she's so desperate for help.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

(yes I know I have too many series I'm working on but I just couldn't help myself when I saw this picture of Elliot. I just had to come up with something. This is loosely based of the story of Sinbad.)

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forsworned · 8 days

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DREAM BLUNT ROTATION ft. HIGHAF!POLY141

Synopsis: Silly 141 getting high with reluctant but experienced reader, happy belated 420 yall

Warning(s): Drug Use, Poly!141, AFAB!Reader, Sexually Suggestive?? Barely Proofread (i'm dyslexic sorry)

"This is an awful idea..."

Kyle's tone is halting as he observes the way, Johnny begins to pick apart the large bud of weed and spreads it out on the rolling papers that Simon purchased not too long ago. Simon wouldn't say where he pawned off the necessary ingredients for a good blunt, and neither he nor Johnny were going to ask.

"Don't be such a wet blanket, Kyle." Simon quips at the uneasy Sergeant.

Johnny snorts as he brushes off the stickiness of the bud and the aroma is rich, sweet, and pungent as it fills the Lieutenant's dorm. If they received any disciplinary action, Simon would take the fall (which was mighty presumptuous of him being that all the resin glands were on Johnny's fingertips, but they digress).

"Ease off on him, L.t.. He's the teacher's pet amongst us, like." Johnny winks at Kyle.

Kyle's face contorts in disgust and betrayal. "Piss off, MacTavish."

This sends the troublesome pair into a fit of giggles, but suddenly the door opens and they're all jostled by the new company. You freeze as you look at the three bozos lounging around in Simon's room. Crushed-up cans and empty bottles of ale were tossed around the room, half a eaten pizza left out on the coffee table where Johnny was busy rolling up a joint.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Your tone is exasperated and beyond wanting to comprehend why in the entire fuck they were deciding to roll up in the Lieutenant's room.

"Why." It wasn't even a question. You really just demanded an answer at this point.

"I didn't—" Kyle is the first to open his mouth, but you close your eyes and hold your hand up to stop him. You shake your head and then sharply exhale as you shut the door behind you.

"Good girl." Simon sarcastically praises as you wordlessly sit next to Kyle.

Johnny giggles at the way your cheeks puff up in embarrassment as you tuck in your legs and lean comfortably to the side.

"Fuck you." You spat at him. "I could have you reported."

"Under what jurisdiction?"

You sit there with a disgruntled expression on your face and you're aware of the smug look that hides behind his stupid balaclava-clad face. Johnny isn't even high yet, but he's giggling like a maniac at everything Simon says. It's the thrill of getting caught red-handed with contraband and bloodshot eyes that makes him lightheaded and giddy. Not that they were bound by any real-world laws or regulations because the 141 operated outside the chain of command, but Price finding out would certainly be a damper in their mood.

But your frown turns into an evil simper. "I'll tell, Price."

And the mood drops for a moment, but Simon loves to challenge you. It's practically etched into his DNA to rile you up in any way he can.

"Go ahead, ducky."

"Don't call me that."

And Simon's hit a nerve, but that all seems to dissipate as soon as Johnny places the rolled-up joint between his lips and sparks up. The first sweet inhale relaxes every rigid nerve in the Scotsman's body as he passes it off to his Lieutenant and leans against the wall. Simon lifts his mask and your jaw ticks at his exposed flesh. His lips are a pretty pink that wraps around the spliff, before toking the absolute fuck out of it and holding it in before exhaling it out through his nose.

The pair exchange a look before nodding and grinning at each other. "Tha's good shit, maaate."

"C'mon, Kyle." Simon coos, beckoning him over. Kyle moves ever so slightly in his direction, but your hand grasps his wrists halting him back.

"Oh, come now, [name]. Don' be uptight. 's all good vibes round 'ere." The masked idiot smirks at you before passing it off. Kyle glances over at your disapproving stare before hesitantly taking a hit. It doesn't even take a second before he's coughing his lungs out and Simon and Johnny are cackling, keeling over on the tiny bunk. You think it may break under their weight at any given moment, but that's just wishful thinking.

"That's not how you do it, Kyle." You chide, seizing the joint from him and you're drawing in the smoke yourself as you demonstrate the proper way of inhaling it. Simon and Johnny go silent as they observe you clearly very shocked by your sudden volunteer.

"Gotta hold it properly." You bring the joint to your lips, comfortably positioning it between your fingers. "Don't inhale too quickly, or you'll cough your lungs out like you did just now. Take your time and hold it before releasing it, slowly." You indicate to him once more and the THC unravels months of built-up tension embedded in your body now that you got a proper hit.

You peer down at the spliff as you exhale the smoke. "Damn, that's good shit. Where did you twats get this?" Chuckling a bit at your usage of their own slang on them.

"Though' we were pourin' poison in the well, but the water is already spiked, it seems." Simon is lying back against the wall, propped up on his elbow with one leg flat and the other is bolstered up. He's relaxed as hell, surveying you like a cat as his tail swishes around with piquing interest. And Johnny is like his orange cat counterpart, licking his paws and rubbing his head as they lounge together on cloud nine.

"Mmm, she's always been like that. Naughty lassie." Johnny teases as he moves closer to you. He's sitting on your right as he eyes the way Kyle successfully follows your directions.

"Aye, tha's a good lad." Johnny praises, rubbing his thigh and Kyle is blinking up at him with hazy, honeyed eyes.

And for some reason you're taking offense to that. "Hey what about me?" You pout at him.

And he's beaming when his baby blues flicker to you. Calloused palm flattening against the expanse of your exposed flesh, riddling your thigh with gooseberries. There is a slight snatch in your breath as he caresses you but you don't move away and it's quickly starting to feel a little heavy as you feel everyone's eyes on you.

But before your body can even react, the door is getting barged into and there stands a very irate Price who literally looks like steam is pouring out of his ears. And just when you think that you're all about to get your asses handed to you, Price plucks the spliff from Kyle's fingers, opens the window and everyone is clamoring to rise from their seats thinking that he's going to toss it out. But you're all dead wrong.

My mans is taking the biggest puff out of all four of you before he jovially steeps the smoke out of his nostrils and he's nodding in approval, "Aye, tha's good shit."

There's a collective sigh of relief that settles upon the 141 before Simon speaks.

"Christ, Boss, least warn us."

"Thought y' were gonna bite o'r heads off." Johnny leans against the window sill, left of his Captain.

Price chuckles as he takes another brief toke before passing it off to Simon who was on his right.

"I should've, you lot were gonna finish it before I even got a toke."

Simon gazes over at you from where he's posted, inhaling the last few hits of the blunt, but you and Kyle are fucking zooted. I'm talkin heads rolled back against the couch cushions and you're gone.

And he is choking on the smoke as he laughs at the both of you before Johnny and Price glance over and join him. Their giggles attract your hazy attention and you lazily toss a pillow at the back of Johnny's head. But then you're cowering away as he approaches you in a jokingly menacing manner, wrapping his arms around you like he's about to perform a tickle attack.

The sound of your stomach growling rips through the silliness and he pouts at you and rubs your belly.

"You hungry, ducky?" Price is towering over you from behind the couch you are situated at, tucking the stray hairs behind your ear and you feel your cheeks warming up at your Captain's sedative voice.

You nod at him with a giddy smile, and before Price even opens his mouth Kyle is pulling up his Uber Eats app to order everyone's go-to Chinese take-out meals.

And as Price is extolling his Sergeant by lightly massaging his shoulders, Simon is taking your chin between his fingers and tilting his head at you.

"Y'got everyone at y'r beck an' call, ducky." But the nickname no longer has its previous bitterness. It's replaced with endearment as he pinches your cheek and that draws out a smile from you.

"Didn' know ye were s'experienced." Johnny's warm breath fans over your neck and you're starting to feel a buzz that's reminiscent of your uni days.

You hum in response as you feel Price's fingers gently scratch at your scalp, and there's a gentle euphoria that warms you to your bones.

"Quit yappin' her ear off." Price scolds the two, but something about the way you're being simultaneously taunted and dotted over is starting to ignite a bit of desire within you.

You shut your eyes and all your senses feel elevated as you're being coddled on all sides. And as much as Simon loves getting under your skin, there is something about the way you're blissfully sitting there not having a care in the world as everyone trills around you.

"Like a kitten." He warbles, caressing your cheek and you lean into his touch.

"A very cute kitten." Johnny nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck as his fingers brush against your knee. A giggle leaves your lips and you're squirming away from his ticklish stubble.

But every way you're moving, you're in the hands of a different man who's relishing in your coquettish behavior. It's overstimulating really. So, the minute you hear wrapping at the front door you're jumping out of your seat to check out who's behind the peephole.

But it feels like a slo-mo scene as you're running away from the giggly, dazed men who follow closely behind you. By the time you're reaching the door, Johnny has already tripped over the end table, Simon is heaving for air and slipping over the barstools in the kitchen in a loud clatter, Price is attempting to help them both up but can't stop laughing his ass off and Kyle, well, mans is passed out on the couch with his mouth wide open.

You can hardly even contain yourself as you open the door, and the delivery man on the other side is flummoxed yet amused at the men in the background and then there was you. Giddy as hell, palms facing up with the most bloodshot eyes.

And before he can even get a word out, Johnny is wrapping his arms around your waist and carrying you back to the couch while Price is sending him off with a wad of cash as he grabs the food.

"Chattin' up the delivery lads, aye?" Johnny teases, as he pulls you into his lap and begins to tickle you. The smell of food is waking Kyle up from his little half-baked nap and he's ruffling your hair as food is being passed out.

"She doesn't need to bother. She's too fit for that." Kyle opens up his kung pao chicken and the smell floods into your nostrils, but he's already on it. "Say 'ahh'." He lifts the chopsticks to feed you the delicious morsels and you happily accept it with a jubliant hum.

"Spoiled little thing." Price chirps as he shoves his lo mein into his mouth. The sauce coats the corners of his mouth and the ends of his stache.

"An' who's fault is that?" Simon gestures at his Captain with his chopsticks. It was true. As their Captain, naturally, they fell in line behind him, so when they saw how he would pamper you excessively they would do it too. And not because of the fact that they were good little soldiers, but because it opened the doorway for them to openly chat you up or (consensually) feel up on you.

Price lets out a hearty laugh. "Ah, bullshit! The minute you lot clocked the opportunity to grab her, you were all over it!"

Johnny licks his lips as you feed him a crab rangoon. "Can ye blame us?"

You quickly cover his mouth with your hand and scrunch your nose up at him. "Don't talk with your mouth full, Johnny!"

He playfully nibbles at your hand and you're then being scooped up by Kyle, who is more than happy to accept your weight in his lap. And Johnny is moaning about how you're being stolen away.

"She's not being swiped if she's scarpering off by herself!" Kyle laughs as he's swatting away any attempts at Johnny trying to confiscate you back.

So, of course, Price wants to dig his heels into Simon when he sees how lackadaisical he is.

"Simon couldn't pull her even if he gave it a good go."

Dark, piercing eyes dangerously flicker to the smug Captain who lays back against the arm chair, sipping on his ale and waits as he takes the bait. One thing that Simon doesn't like is when someone's threatening his hold on his position in any type of situation that especially being you.

"I don't need t'bother." He retorts, taking a sip of his own drink as he man spreads on the sofa.

"Oh, and why's that?" Price is intrigued now. Simon narrows his eyes at him but continues to stuff his face with food, sticky bits of rice garnish the sides of his mouth. This doesn't stop the Captain from pressing the matter and it's now starting to capture your attention as Johnny misses your mouth when he attempts to feed you some stir fry and it stains for your cheek instead.

But Simon is effortlessly patient and cool as a cucumber when he's being dogged on by everyone now, and you're observing the situation closely. He carefully wipes his mouth with a napkin, takes a last swig of his drink before he gets up to clean up after himself. And Price is almost convinced that Simon has given up as used, balled up napkins are being tossed at him by Johnny and Kyle, but in one swift movement you're being tossed over the behemoth's shoulder. A squeak barely manages to escape you as he pats your ass and the others are scrambling to get you as they playfully jest at Simon.

"Ah, no fair!" Johnny tugs at Simon's waistband, and lets go with a loud snap to his pelvis.

"Unhand her!" Kyle laughs as he tries to grab your foot, but he's only left with your ankle sock.

And while those two idiots finally gather themselves to give in to chasing after him, Simon is booking it to his room, and Price is left cackling on the armchair enjoying the rest of his meal.

"Simon!" You giggle, as he's enforcing the door and locking it with one arm as you barely dangle off his shoulder.

He balances you out just for a moment before he tosses you onto his bed and successfully turns the lock. Johnny and Kyle's shouting can be heard on the other side of the door, but Simon doesn't seem to give two fucks as he's approaching you. You're laid out on his bed, cheeks flustered when he towers over you, grasps your wrist, and raises them above your head.

And as his lips are hovering above yours the door is getting busted into as Simon is getting tackled to the floor as the Sergeants hold him down. Your eyes ream at the little giggly clusterfuck, and then in strolls Price who sits on the end of the bed and scoops you into his arms. You feel dizzy in his warmth as you snuggle against him and he kisses the top of your head.

You begin to realize something while you watch Simon turn into a cackling mess as he's being simultaneously tickled mercilessly by Johnny and Kyle. Price has a triumphant smile plastered on his face. It creeps up slowly on you, but he had succeeded in properly baiting all three men, so he could get his way with you.

His azure hues shift to you and he's kissing your cheek. It makes your heart flutter, but you're shaking your head at him when he's gazes down at you with that impish expression.

"Naughty little minx." You wave your finger at him with a bubbly smile. And he's hiding his face in the crook of your neck, tittering away because he knows he's been caught red-handed.

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hero-hoe · 2 months

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Hnnnnnghghhnn thinking about taking Gaz home to meet your parents.

Gn reader, reader has both mom&dad.

But god just. Imagine Boyfriend!Gaz getting dressed up in his nicest clothes without wearing a full suit. So he shows up to your parents house with you, baby blue button up and black slacks he steamed every wrinkle out of twice.

He asked Price for advice on what to bring, because he can't just show up empty handed. Boyfriend!Gaz would bring a gorgeous bouquet for your mother that he asked the florist for help arranging to make sure it was perfect. A bottle of 16 year bourbon for your father. He nearly begged Ghost for the recommendation.

Gaz is such a sweetheart, he'd be calling your parents Ma'am and Sir all night, minding his manners just how his mums taught him. He insists that he helps set the table and wash the dishes. Really, your mom put in all the work cooking, it's the least he could do.

They ask him about work and he tries to brush it off, not wanting to bring them into it. He loves you so much, he already worries that he's putting you in danger. Just tells your parents he's a Sergeant, lets them think he's meaning police.

Shakes your dad's hand all firm and gives your mom a hug and kiss on the cheek before you leave while you listen to your parents prattle on about him being welcome in their home any time.

Boyfriend!Gaz sits in the car with you on the way home taking deep breaths because he was nervous. "I was less freaked during RTI, love." He'd say. Gaz who loves you so much he's more scared of your parents not approving of him than he is being interrogated.

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #cod headcanons #cod mwiii #cod mwii #gaz headcanons #kyle garrick headcanon #gaz imagine #kyle garrick imagine #sergeant kyle gaz garrick #cod x reader #cod scenarios

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cloudypariah · 4 months

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Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick Masterlist

- Floodlights. 𑁍 Gaz is the first one to notice. It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to understand why, and it’s probably because you’re more scared than he is. 𑁍 (Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x fem!Reader, Chronicle 2012 AU)

- Glitter shakes. 𑁍 You’re grateful that the man you woke up next to is the calmer one out of the two of you. He’s actually quite sweet, so it doesn’t worry you too much when legally separating from him appears to be taking a little longer than expected. There are probably worse people out there to be suddenly married to, you suppose. 𑁍 (Soft dark!Kyle “Gaz” Garrick x fem!Reader)

#sergeant kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #call of duty masterlist #masterlist #cloudypariah writes

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iifishizzleii · 3 months

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hot take, very opinionated, might offend the masses but-

fics where the cod men wait until reader is 18 to fuck them is NOT cute🥰

fics that highlight the reader’s soft, small, hairless, and (quite literally) child-like figure in contrast to the cod men is NOT cute🥰

fics that only describe skinny white girls who are just so ‘fragile and feminine’ is NOT cute🥰

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konigsblog · 2 months

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what do you think are gaz’s and price’s favourite positions?

cw: afab!f!reader 🪵☀️

gaz loves any position, really — doggy, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, spooning, missionary, etc... although, he loves when he's able to see your pretty, tight rear and grope your ass with his scarred and calloused hands.

gaz is usually pretty slow and gentle when it comes to having sex with you, only quickening his slow and sloppy pace when he's getting closer to that sensation that tightens his full balls. he's in no rush, and truly wishes he could spend an eternity with you on his veiny, lengthy dick, with kyle's slick and drooling tip pressed against your womb.

he especially loves cowgirl and reverse cowgirl, where he's able to suck on one of your hardened nubs, your soft and supple breasts in his mouth as he suckles and moans around the perky nipple — or, grope and fondle your ass, spitting between your ass cheeks to use his saliva as lube to grind even deeper inside. (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

john price is more picky — he prefers anything where his body is pressed against yours, snug against you and caging you in. he especially enjoys visiting a cabin during november, fucking you like a dog in heat the entire time. his favourite positions would be missionary and spooning, where he presses his large and rough palm over your chest, feeling your heartbeat as he rocks his hips slowly.

his pace differs from time to time, although, he remains pretty messy and gentle as he fucks you tenderly, burly and muscular arms wrapped around your waist as he rolls his broad, sturdy hips against you, biting your shoulder as he sinks his meaty dick further inside your drooling, sloppy cunt. (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠)

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vellichor-of-the-solivagant · 2 months

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How to Plant Snapdragons (pt. 9)

Task Force 141 + König + Keegan x Female Criminal!Reader (except Captain Price, because he'll be like a father to the bunch, and König and Keegan won't appear until later on in the story)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You go to Las Almas with Soap and Ghost and meet Colonel Alejandro and Sergeant Rodolfo

You are currently reading Chapter 9! Here is Chapter 8 and the Masterlist!

Chapter 9: How to Be Afraid of Ghost

CONTENT WARNING: Strong Violence NOTE: WAZZUP BITCHES, IM BACK I am very sorry for not updating for 4-5(?) months. I didn't mean to go on a hiatus without any announcements. Things had been quite busy for me lately and I focused on some things (FUCK COLLEGE BUT I PASSED ALL MY CLASSES ANYWAY), and also the reason why I suddenly "went dark" is because of the fucking MW3 Campaign. Yeah, shit destroyed me. WORD COUNT: 2.7k

You had been to Mexico once. You went to good places it held, but you also walked on the mud it hid in the dark. After all, there could never be a perfect country. Even if someone said that their glorious purpose was for the better good of their nation—most of the time, they were merely heroes in their own stories and villains in the others’. Well, Mexico had good food. You could give them that, at least. But this place, Las Almas, would it have good stuff as well?

You shook off your vest and Ghost’s jacket as the pilot alerted you of the time of the touchdown and slipped into your jacket, fitted to your frame. As much as you wanted to keep wearing the lieutenant’s clothes, you couldn’t risk getting harmed because of loose clothing and failing this stupid mission.

You turned to Ghost as you folded his jacket neatly. “Can I keep this?” you asked and smiled.

He stared at you for a good second, pools of honey you couldn’t read before he looked away. “Suit yourself.”

Your grin widened, and you stashed the jacket into your bag. You hummed as you put on your vest, tightening it to your liking. You patted your pockets, checking each of them, until you felt Ghost’s mask in one, fingers lingering on the soft fabric, and sighed. You put your hands down on your lap and leaned against the cold steel, waiting for the upcoming descent, which didn’t take long.

The plane opened up, and a busy facility greeted your sight. Vehicles drove in and out of the area, and soldiers went back and forth from one place to another. But even when they were bustling, you could feel their gazes land on you—suspicious and judging, whispering among themselves, voices drowned out by the loud exhausts of the transports.

It was something you wished you could get used to. At the same time, you didn’t want to, when eyes held more than they seemed.

You followed Soap and Ghost down the plane, walking towards a couple of men who stepped forward. One of them had his hands clasped behind him, while the other simply stood by his side. Both were, well, good-looking and buffed (which was normal for military men), but eh, not really your type.

They would make pretty models though.

Also, good human shields, if ever.

Johnny, being the everlasting sunshine he was, greeted them first, extending a hand to the man named Alejandro, and engaged in a conversation with him as though they had been long good friends. Then, the sergeants forced the poor lieutenant to join in, who sounded ready to strangle the scot.

Then, your eyes found the gaze of the man next to the Mexican captain on the monitor on your ankle. A frown spread on his face and worsened the moment he saw the smirk that crept up your lips, his eyes darting between you and the half of the 141.

The look of a man confused never failed to be an entertainment. And what was more the obvious expression that said, what the fuck is a criminal doing here? Or something in Spanish.

“And who is she?” Alejandro questioned, finally turning his eyes on you—or rather, down to your ankle, as if the monitor would be the one to answer him.

“She’s sent by General Shepherd,” Ghost immediately replied, batting an eye at you. “She may be a criminal, but she proved excellent in various ways that could be useful to us.”

Alejandro, albeit hesitantly, nodded and extended a hand to you. “Nice to meet you, miss.”

You took his hand, giving it a quick shake. “I’m at your service, sir. And worry not about me going against orders, I pretty much like my head attached to my neck.”

He put a forced smile on his face, one you’d seen way too many times on people. “We’ll see about that.” He motioned at the man beside him. “This is Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra, my second-in-command.”

The said man, Rodolfo, extended his hand first to Soap, who the fellow Sergeant enthusiastically shook. Then, he batted an eye at Ghost, seemingly hesitant to approach him, but still decided to. Ghost, however, merely stared at his hand, and Rodolfo backed away, clearing his throat.

Soap stepped forward. “Ah, the Lt’s not much of a talker.”

Rodolfo nodded. “I understand.” He turned your way and reached out his hand, which you lightly shook, quickly withdrawing right after. He moved back to Alejandro’s side, who nodded his head towards a direction.

“Follow me, we’ll talk along the way.” Alejandro turned and began to walk, passing by and nodding at soldiers who saluted at him. By the end of the way—or seemingly at both an entrance and exit, several jeeps were parked, and a few soldiers stood by the vehicles. With a wave of hand from Alejandro, the men slipped inside the vehicles, and Rodolfo was the first to get in the first jeep on the line.

“I’d like to sit beside the window—” you attempted to request, but Ghost was quick to shut you off.

“No,” he said as Soap rounded the car, stepping in by the other side.

“But—”

“No.”

“C’mon, lassie, don’t you want to sit between us?” Soap questioned, a smile played on his lips.

You slipped inside with a grumble, inching close to the sergeant, before elbowing him. He grunted, but you knew it wouldn’t do much damage to him with all his muscles. At the same time, doors shut as both Alejandro and Simon got inside.

“Tengo miedo de los fantasmas,” Rodolfo mumbled, slightly turning his head to face his colonel.

(I’m afraid of ghosts.)

Your eyes whipped forward, brows slightly raising at his words, which you perfectly understood. You glanced at Ghost, but he merely stared ahead. At the back of your mind, you wanted to snitch on the new guy just so some drama could happen between them, but at the same time, drama could lead to suspicion between these men.

This was why knowing some languages if you travel abroad was great. But it should be fine to keep quiet for now. What the sergeant said wasn’t suspicious, but if they did anything that could bring harm to Ghost and Soap, then . . .

On the other hand, Alejandro chuckled at the comment of his sergeant and looked back at the three of you. “You know Spanish?”

The Lieutenant remained silent, and you did the same, turning your head to the side to look out of the window, whilst Soap shook his head, and answered, “No.”

Alejandro drew a smirk on his face and turned his attention back ahead. “Oh, you will.”

Rodolfo started the car and drove out of the base.

“See,” you pointed at the window, begrudgingly looking at Simon, who stared indifferently at you. “This is why I want to be next to the window.”

The car passed by two-story buildings, seemingly houses or apartments, painted in pastel colors. People were walking and talking on the street, some vendors and their stands offering their goods, and some other vehicles were parked on the way. It wasn’t much, not even beautiful, but still you’d like to see everything you could see.

“Have you taken a liking to Las Almas?” Alejandro questioned, glancing back at you.

You put your hand down and turned your head on his way. “To be frank, it’s not a liking, sir, rather, it’s curiosity. I’m not from here or anything similar to this place, so I’d like to see how things work here.”

His head inclined a bit to the side, appearing to be thinking of his words. “You’ll be . . . disappointed.”

You smiled. “I’ll be the one to judge that.” Just as you finished your sentence, a truck with men riding on the back, guns in hand passed by. You couldn’t help but whistle at their ridiculous sight, and put your hand on top of Soap’s before he could grab his gun.

He frowned at you. “What are ya—”

“Calm down, sir,” you cut him off, pulling your hand away. “Seeing as no one on the street is reacting about it, pretty sure that’s normal here.”

“You’re right,” Alejandro spoke in a serious voice, once again looking back at you. “Guns are in the jurisdiction of the police.”

“Looks like Las Almas has a huge problem,” you commented and crossed your arms. “Much more than what I’ve heard.”

Alejandro shifted his eyes to you. “You seem to know something about Las Almas.”

With his words, Soap and Ghost also settled their eyes on you, as if they were ready to do everything to get answers out of your mouth. “I’ve been to Mexico, and during my stay, I heard of things about Las Almas. Not exactly the good ones as you probably expected, but I didn’t know things around here would be this bad.”

“When did you come to Mexico?”

“Over a couple of years ago, sir.”

“I see.” He turned back ahead. “Well, things weren’t that bad back then.”

“I suppose those who tried to uphold the laws and resist corruption met their end as the time passed?”

“You’re right.”

You hummed. “Well, without powerful backing to protect them, I doubt they’ll last much in a society like this.”

“And ya also seemed to know things about politics and stuff,” Soap claimed, slightly shifting on his seat.

You met his blue eyes with a grin. “I had met quite a few politicians in my life. Assassinated an Austrian before, and the one who hired me snitched on me. That’s why I ended up on Shepherd’s shackles.”

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How much of that is true?”

You laughed loudly, although you already knew what would be his reaction. “Take a guess,” you told him challengingly.

“The last sentence,” Ghost joined in, his voice monotone.

You snorted. “Except that.” Then, you gasped, throwing yourself to the window at Soap’s side, making him curse out something you couldn’t fucking understand in whatever Scottish was that. “Look, look, Lt!” You motioned your hand on Ghost to look at the ridiculous sight of someone in a skull balaclava giving balloons to kids.

“What the hell?” Soap’s bright eyes also followed the scene.

You whipped around and smiled at Ghost, who simply stared at you. “If you ever want to quit the military, you can retire with me and live together.”

“How about living in Las Almas since Ghost might fit well in here?” Rodolfo suggested in a soft voice. Alejandro hit him on the side, whispering something, and from the corner of your eyes, you saw Ghost slowly turning to look at him through the rear mirror.

You tilted your head. “But Las Almas has a serious problem when it comes to crimes, so I don’t think it is very much suitable to live in unless you want to be a crime lord or still in the military. And I’m the type of person who likes traveling around. If I were to settle for sometime somewhere else, it would be where I would have already spent some time on, like London, Berlin, or California and—”

“It’s just a joke, please. Don’t take it too seriously,” Rodolfo mumbled, sounding like he wanted to bury himself on the ground at the moment and never appear again.

On the way to the destination, Alejandro had talked more about the way of Las Almas, and finally, what you and the 141 came here for, El Sin Nombre, the leader of the Mexican Cartel who was protecting Hassan. Quite a reputation that person had as Alejandro said they had eyes and ears everywhere.

Having eyes and ears everywhere was also something the one who raised you did. Even if your father was in prison at the moment, you knew he was still pulling strings. A mastermind out of everyone’s league, until he decided to invest in you. Guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, now that you were technically imprisoned as well.

You pulled out your balaclava and huffed, putting it on swiftly. You jumped out of the jeep right after Simon and you heard Alejandro spit out his commands in a low, serious voice. You rounded up with the soldiers before a gate and under the Colonel’s command, the group barged in. You frowned as you had seen no man in sight, seemingly the civilians had run away—or were mostly likely driven out by the Cartel.

Alejandro waved his hand to follow him up another gate, which this time, Ghost opened, and gunshots echoed in the air.

“Showtime,” you said under your breath, aiming your assault rifle and blasting a hole through a man’s head, vibrant red painting the dull walls around. You rounded a corner, cautiously looking out for an enemy. You spotted a couple of them, but before you could take them down, they had already fallen on the ground. Your head whipped at Soap and Ghost’s direction. “Showoffs,” you grumbled.

“Said the one who wanted to take two men down at the same time,” Soap remarked, giving you a look, and you heard Ghost huff.

You clicked your tongue and swiftly entered a house, but quickly moved back out as you saw not a soul in sight. Your frown worsened at the unusual lack of men to hold the group back. In these cases, either it would be a trap or they had escaped already.

You glanced over your shoulders. 141, some of Alejandro’s men and the Colonel himself were on sight. The walls obscured your view of the place, there were so many corners where men could be hiding themselves or something else, and such things as Cartels wouldn’t hesitate to destroy a run-down hide-out like this for their good.

Soap shot a man from the roof and Alejandro positioned himself in front of a door, motioning at us. “Secure the house, and we go for Hassan.”

Several voices echoed from inside the place, cursing and hushing one another.

“Take the door,” Alejandro commanded. Soap stepped forward, but you grabbed him, making him look at you.

Before he could utter a word, you kicked the door open, slid on the floor towards a corner, and struck a man awaiting in the hallway. You got up immediately, raised a hand so they wouldn’t follow you, and picked up a baby’s bottle on the ground, throwing it to a room through a slightly opened door. Shots were fired blindly right after and you countered it with a couple of bullets, and it stopped. You pushed the blasted door open and found a man lying on the floor, and the baby’s bottle rolling towards your foot.

“Room clear,” you announced, staring down at the bottle for a second, before moving to the next room. They followed you in and you braced yourself for another onslaught, but this time, Soap was the one who barged in, quickly shooting down the men inside without batting an eye.

“Room clear,” he said and put his hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

You looked up at him and raised a brow that he wouldn’t see.

Ghost sauntered in the room. “No sign of Hassan.”

Alejandro sighed. “They already moved him.”

You turned your attention to him. “They move fast, hm?”

He looked at you, letting Ghost and Soap rummage the desk across the room instead. “They do. Much more than I expected.”

“So they already know that we’re coming here,” you remarked.

“Highly possible. The Cartel has eyes everywhere.”

You narrowed your eyes and echoed, “Everywhere?”

He nodded to affirm it. “Everywhere.”

“You mean even among your men?”

He paused, staring at you for a good second. “No, I trust my men.”

“A weed is a weed, sir, no matter how good it looks in your garden,” you said in a monotonous voice, picking up a pencil from the ground. “Sooner or later, they’ll bring harm to your plants. And even the plants you put in your garden can bring harm to you if you don’t know what they are.”

Ghost and Soap shot an eye on you, before exchanging looks with each other.

He eyed you cautiously and his serious voice lowered. “What are you implying?”

You remained silent and so did he, until Rodolfo’s voice echoed in your headsets. “The army is rolling in!”

You can also read the series on AO3!

Taglist: @yyiikes, @the-faceless-bride @sarahedwards16, @sarahedwards16, @kenma-izhu, @kkaaaagt, @cassiecasluciluce, @unicorngirly1, @thriving-n-jiving, @squidalapobre, @tallicaside

(PLEASE DON'T KILL ME FOR NOT UPDATING (and I hope you guys still like to bother to read this fic?)

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celestialprincesse · 1 month

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ok, but imagine- 141 with a short, chubby reader who likes to dress up all cute, and seems like they need to be protected at all costs. but one day the reader just up n fuckin moves the couch with one hand to vacuum or something- when he gets confused, they just go 'did you forget i have a physically demanding job? i could pick you up without a problem! ^_^'

I love love love this trope sm! Big burly military guy who automatically assumes that he has to do all of the heavy lifting x feminine frilly soft reader that can hold their own 💕

Hope you don't mind me writing this with Gaz as opposed to all of the boys but he's not cropped up on my blog for a bit and I miss writing him!

You're feeling cheerful today. It's one of the first days of spring, the sun is shining, birds chirping and one of your favourite songs plays quietly on the record player Kyle bought you for Christmas. Spring cleaning is well underway, an annual ritual you've fallen into ever since you and Kyle moved in together, a day of domestic bliss you wouldn't give up for anything. You're pottering absentmindedly through the house with the mop in one hand, and a sloshing bucket in the other as you make your way into the living room, where Kyle busies himself with cleaning the windows, bobbing his head along with the music.

"Y'aright, bird?" His pretty brown eyes dart between your flushed cheeks, the full bucket placed by your feet, and the mop you currently wield. "Mhm!" You chirp happily back, bottom lip pulled pensively between your teeth as you look over the room, what you need to do and where best to start. "You think there's anything cool stuck under the couch?" Kyle turns to you, taking in the thoughtful, slightly distant look on your face with amusement, leaving his washcloth on the windowsill as he takes your face in his hands, pressing a little kiss to your forehead. "You want me to lift it up so you can look?" "I got it."

Before he knows it, you've got the couch halfway hoisted up on your shoulder as you peer into the dark, dusty space underneath. "Bird-" He stammers, going to grab the couch before you shoo him off. "Is that the airpod you lost?" A pink painted acrylic points to a little speck of white, tangled amongst dust and other mysteriously accumulated floor stuff. Kyle is quick to grab the lost ear bud from the floor, wiping it off on his shirt as you drop the couch back down, seemingly entirely unbothered by your impressive feat.

"Scare the shit out of me when you do stuff like that." He huffs, checking on you almost on instinct as you smile proudly up at him. "My strong girl, hey?"

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v1x3n · 1 month

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be fr i would let any of these men:

roundhouse kick me and id be thankful to have the honour of even being touched by them 🥰😍

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ethereal-night-fairy · 18 days

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To the Edge of Chaos

Prologue

Pirate!Gaz x Female Reader (of mixed Arab decent)

A murder accusation and the death of a beloved father. Those where the events that led you to take refuge in this seedy tavern. Scared and left completely alone for the first time ever, you try you're best to evade watchful eyes. Easier said than done when handsome pirates were in the vicinity.

Warnings: MDNI, Crude language, talks of beheadimg and murder.

To the Edge of Chaos

Masterlist

Words: 1.1k

“Did you hear!?,” The man next to you whispered. He must be a local if he's comfortable gossiping in a tavern like this. The smell of cheap alcohol was making you nauseous but this was the only safe place you could find for the time being.

“Everyone's heard by this stage,” the bar keep whispered back. “The city guards have been preventing people from talking about it since they announced the passing of the King. I heard they're going to behead her without trial.”

“I don't believe it for a second! Our princess would never do something like that!”

“Keep your voice down! They have ears all over the city,” the bar keep warned. But the bar was rowdy despite the news of the king's passing circulating. It felt like the city was celebrating, apart from a select few that is. You didn't realise how insignificant the royal family was in this part of the city. Though granted, the ports were often run by pirates these days despite the naval guard trying to stake their claim over the area.

You wonder where everything went wrong. It wasn't long ago that you were dressing as a servant boy to explore the city scape. Even though you should have been studying, should have been performing your royal duties. It seems that your selfishness has come to bite you in the ass. Had it not been for your uncle you would be on the road to your demise right about now. You've only narrowly escaped death for the time being. No one knows how you'll fare tomorrow.

That's how you found yourself in one of the few places the city guards couldn't reach you. The loyalty of the people here lay with the outlaws, the reject, the outcasts. An ideal place to find a temporary identity or a completely new one if one wanted. The bar buzzed with joy as the people guzzled their cheap rum and brandy. It tasted nothing like the refined wines you were raised on. Not that you had the luxury of being picky anymore. But at least you could enjoy the sweetness during these trying times. Probably not a good financial decision though. But you desperately needed something to take edge of the grief you were feeling.

“The king loved his daughter, why would she have any reason to kill him?” The drunk patron drawled on despite the looks he was getting from the other patrons. The royal family really wasn't popular here. You scan your area staying on high alert, you couldn't have anyone mistaking you for someone who was supposed to be locked up and awaiting her death. You suppose sneaking out did pay off in this instance. You were so used to acting like a boy that it wasn't hard mimicking the mannerisms of the people around you. That and the disguise was good enough to fool the drunk for now. You just needed to get your hands on a more convincing ensemble if you wanted to survive.

“Aye nae one cares that wee bastard is dead, Never done nae good for the people like us! And his daughter too! Never even seen 'er face in public! Always hiding away in 'er big castle too full of 'erself tae care about 'er people dying in the slums!” A drunk man with an odd haircut shouts. Pirates. You watch the men around him laugh as they encourage him to keep going. The whole situation made you uneasy. Your reputation was horrible amongst the poor it seems. Or anyone for that matter. You were very much aware of the hate you received because of your mothers heritage. Despite her still being foreign royalty.

“Good thing we'll finally see 'er head come off! Good riddance!” You flinch as the man continues his rant stumbling as he tries to reach the bar for more alcohol. But someone from his group grabs him by the back of the neck before he can reach where you were sitting. Damn you wouldn't want to mess with his friend.

He was built like an oak tree. Not to mention his terrifying mask. You wouldn't be surprised if they called him the grim reaper. You remind yourself to keep away from those two. It's not long before the drunk man is hauled off outside while he airs out his lungs towards the person who was holding him like a pup. You watch as his crew boo and jeer the big man as he drags out the other to sober up.

Your eyes naturally drift back to the rowdy crowd who seemed at home in the tavern. Many women excitedly draped themselves on the arms of the most handsome or the ones that looked like they had money. You couldn't blame them. They were quite handsome you'll admit, and who didn't like money? You could use some right now.

One man in particular caught your eye. His laugh was akin to the warmth of the setting sun. Your hand absently caresses the necklace around your neck. The thought of him caressing skin no man has touched made your head spin with forbidden thoughts. Ones you desperately had to push down. Your necklace hums with magic concealing your feminine features, essentially presenting you as a boy to anyone.

You continue your not so discrete exploration of the handsome man's toned body. He would have make a nice personal gaurd. It stirs something in your heart but you push it down as soon as it surfaces. Now wasn't the time!

His dark sun kissed skin glowed under the light of their lanterns while multiple women tried and failed to monopolize his attention. Though you knew for a fact he enjoyed the commotion they were making for him. You could see it on his smug face and mischievous kohl covered eyes. They looked like pools of honey from where you sat. Stop it idiot! You need to focus!

It seemed the bearded man sitting next to him was also enjoying the attention he was receiving. They exchanged cigars as they continued to enjoy their drinks while the woman fawned for their undivided attention.

You study them for a bit before making up your mind. They'd do nicely. You needed money, and they looked like they had plenty to spare. You're sure they wouldn't mind a few coins missing. Though it was your first time stealing, it couldn't be that hard could it? A little flirting here, a little touching there and you'll have a couple coins in your purse in no time. You glance at your necklace debating if it was a good option to remove the enchantment for a short time. The people were all drunk anyway and it wasn't like anyone would recognise you here. You just needed to get one of them alone somehow. But how?

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