#COD headcanons | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sai-int · 1 day ago

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Is it too much to ask for a dd/lg headcannon or Drabble with the 141 boys? Maybe even including others like graves, konig, Keegan, Alejandro and Rudy?

(Can I be 🍇 anon?)

never too much! you're actually the first person to claim an emoji! I hope this is okay doll ♡

cw : 18+ MDNI , dd/lg dynamics , this is so long, im sorry price, simon, johnny, kyle, könig, keegan, alejandro, rudy, graves

price – the definition of a firm but fair daddy. he’s got rules, and he expects you to follow them, but he’s not cruel about it. he’s patient, steady, always knows what you need—even when you don't. his presence alone is enough to make you feel safe, grounded. but he’s also stern when he needs to be.

"feet up, love. that's it. let me take care of you." he says, kneeling in front of you after a long day, pulling off your shoes and rubbing slow, firm circles into your sore arches. he takes care of you without hesitation, without asking. knows when you need a bath drawn, knows when you need to be pulled into his lap and held until your breathing evens out.

but if you brat? you’re bent over his lap, skirt flipped up, his hand smoothing over your skin before landing a sharp smack. "i warned you, didn’t I?" he’s got a low tolerance for brattiness but an endless amount of patience when it comes to taking care of you. calls you his girl, sweetheart, maybe even baby when he’s feeling soft. he’s got a warm, protective presence, safe but still in control. nothing gets past him. if you try to pout your way out of trouble, he just smirks, presses a kiss to your forehead, and hums a low, "nice try, love."

simon – quiet, intense, and possessive. he’s not big on pet names—mostly calls you love—but the way he looks at you? like he owns you, like he’d burn the world down for you? that’s where the power is. he doesn’t have to say much, doesn’t need a long list of rules or punishments. all it takes is a look, the weight of his stare heavy enough to make you squirm. he doesn’t like bratting, doesn’t like games. when he tells you to do something, he expects you to listen.

"listen, come here, love." simple, direct. his voice is low, steady. when you hesitate, just for a moment, his head tilts. the mask makes it impossible to read his expression, but you know what’s coming.

"really gonna make me ask again, are you?"

and when you finally move, slipping between his legs, he rewards you with rare praise, making it feel that much better.

"that’s m'good girl."

johnny – playful, teasing, and so good with praise. he loves winding you up, watching you get all pouty just so he can break you down and build you back up again. his favorite thing in the world is turning your "no, I'd never" into "please, johnny, more."

"dinnae be shy, princess," he grins, leaning in, voice warm with amusement. "say it for me. tell me what y’need."

he’s big on physical affection, always touching, always holding, always making sure you feel how much he adores you. he’s the type to pick you up and spin you around just to hear you squeal, to kiss you breathless in the middle of the street just because he can.

his hands are always everywhere, his voice a steady stream of praise. "look at ye. so fuckin’ sweet for me. always are."

but when it’s time to be serious? he knows how to handle you. lets you push him just enough before he’s got you pinned against the nearest surface, smirking as he presses against your backside as you get shy, "thought you were a big girl, hm? what happened to all that attitude?"

or maybe you'll laugh, not taking him seriously, "think yer bein’ funny, aye?" his fingers trail up your thigh, the pads of them making dimples in your skin as he leans in. "let’s see how much ye'll be laughin' when a’m done wi' ye."

kyle – softer, more nurturing. he’s the type to tuck you into his side, stroke your hair, kiss your forehead and call you his sweet girl. loves taking care of you, making sure you feel safe and cherished. he’s the kind of daddy that knows exactly when to pull you into his lap and murmur, "what’s goin’ on, baby?" he doesn’t scold when you brat—he just guides, gently steering you back to where you need to be.

"i know, sweetheart. just need some attention, don’t you?" he coos, thumb tracing slow lines along your lower lip. "c’mere. let me take care of you, yeah?"

but he’s not a pushover. when you really push? he just sighs, shaking his head, the disappointment gets you the most.

"you know better than that, love. you wanna try again?"

könig – gentle but possessive. he knows how big he is, how easily he could overpower you at a moments notice, but that’s not what he wants. he cherishes you, treats you like something delicate, something precious. calls you mäuschen, liebling, mein süßes mädchen.

his hands are massive—capable of destruction, yet impossibly soft when they touch you. he holds you like you’re special, something his. he takes so much pride in you. his voice is low, rumbled with that thick austrian accent as he murmurs, "mein liebling, so brave… so sweet for me."

he adores caring for you. brushing your hair every night, wrapping you in his arms, tracing gentle patterns on your skin as he murmurs praises. but he watches you, reads you, because he knows when you’re acting out watches

"you are just testing my patience, mäuschen. do not disappoint me."

it’s not a threat, it’s a warning. his grip is firm, but never harsh, just a reminder of his strength. when you finally give in, whisper out a soft "i’m sorry, daddy" he's too weak to stay upset, immidiately praising you.

"awh, that’s my baby. knew you would come back to me." his lips press to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you tight. because you’re his, and he never lets what’s his go.

keegan – commanding but patient. he doesn’t say much, doesn’t need to. you and him communicate almost telepathically, always intune with eachother. when he looks at you, when he tilts his head just so, eyes sharp beneath that black face paint, it’s enough.

"pet." his voice is low, even, a quiet command. "come here."

you hesitate, just for a second, testing him, pushing. but all it takes is that subtle shift in his posture, that almost-imperceptible narrowing of his eyes, for you to realize exactly what you’ve done.

"you know better."

he doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t punish you outright. no—he waits, lets the silence stretch until you’re squirming. he wants you to break on your own, to realize that disobeying him was never going to end in your favor.

"be good for me." his hand finds your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. his touch is firm, his thumb grazing your bottom lip, watching the way you react.

and when you finally, finally submit? he smirks, barely there, nodding once as his thumb brushes over your cheek.

"that’s my girl."

alejandro – soooo teasing, full of warmth. calls you mi amor, bebita, princesa. he spoils you rotten, but he expects your obedience in return. loves watching you melt under his praise.

"mírate, baby" he murmurs, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. "tan hermosa cuando eres buena para mí."

he lives to take care of you. always checking in, making sure you ate or what not. "estás bien, mi amor?" his hands smoothing over your back, pulling you into his chest. when you’ve had a long day, when you’re feeling small, he tucks you into his lap, cradles your face, murmurs soft praises in spanish, low and soothing in your ear.

"always so good, mi princesa."

rudy – soft but firm. calls you mi corazón , muñequita. he’s the kind of man who lets you brat, lets you think you’re getting away with it, all build letting it until he finally decides to correct you.

"are you done, muñeca?" voice calm, measured.

he doesn’t scold, doesn’t get angry. just waits. waits for you to realize that he’s not going to entertain your attitude. that he’s not going to play your game.

and when you calm down? he just smiles, welcoming you back to him with open arms. pulling you into his lap and cradling your face in his hands. because rudy doesn’t break. he just waits for you to come back to him.

graves – cocky and dominant, and always in control. he has that easy southern charm, the kind that makes you feel safe, wanted, but also makes it crystal clear that he’s in charge. calls you darlin’, sugar, his little thing. thrives on obedience, but he loves breaking you in, watching you go from stubborn and defiant to soft and needy under his touch.

"you’re makin’ this real difficult for yourself, sugar."

his voice is always calm, never rushed. he knows he’s going to get his way. when you brat, when you cross your arms and huff at him, he just sighs, shakes his head, tilts his chin down slightly so he’s looking at you, sharp blue eyes cutting through your attitude like a knife.

"can act tough all you want, sweets, but we both know how this ends."

his punishments aren’t harsh, they’re calculated. never does anything in the heat of the moment. he waits, makes you squirm, makes you realize that pushing him was a bad idea.

but when you’re good? fuck, does he reward you.

"now that’s what I like, darlin’," he murmurs, kitten licking at your clit. "my sweet girl, doin’ exactly what she’s told. ain't so hard, hmm?"

he’s big on ownership. likes having his hands on you, his arm draped over your shoulders, fingers ghosting against your neck. not because he doesn’t trust you, he just likes reminding you who you belong to.

"ain’t nobody else gonna take care of you like I do, sugar. you know that, don’t you?"

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cherie-doll · 8 hours ago

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Hi! I hope you’re doing really, really well, beautiful. So, I was wondering if you could write something about what the COD guys would be like on their wedding day. Maybe how their weddings would go—whether they’d be big or small, or where they’d get married? I’ll leave it up to your imagination. Thanks so much!!!🤍💌^^

what a lovely thing to imagine <3

(sorry i am getting to these so late, i've been so incredibly busy bc i forget that im somehow an adult and i have to do adult things, there's just kind of a lot on my plate rn, if only y’all could see the mess my desk is in with trying to write and the paperwork everywhere but this was so fun to write tysm for this ask <33)

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Their Wedding Day

༢ུ· Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

Price

I'd like to think that Price would have a pretty big wedding, I mean just think of all the people he knows and has met along the years coming to celebrate this day, there's some people he's close with and even consider his family, of course they won't miss out on this opportunity to be there for him, the speeches would take forever because everyone wants to say something

He's just so happy on this day that he can't think of anything else, he doesn't care about whether the wedding is at a venue, church, barn, outdoors, he just cares that everything turns out alright, so he'll be perfectly fine if you decide to go with something simpler

If you're nervous while walking down the aisle he'll be waiting for you at the altar, smiling and looking at you the entire time, gazes meeting and transmitting a warmth and calming energy that everything has and will turn out just how you want it

He just considers himself the luckiest man alive to be able to marry you

Ghost

His wedding wouldn't be big, something on the more average/small size, he has his close friends by his side and doesn't want to bother inviting anyone else he hasn't talked to in the past year, he knows exactly who truly cares and who deserves to be there

He'd groan seeing Johnny stand up to give a speech knowing he's about to sit through some embarrassingly horrid stories this man is about to spill

That is unless you have a lot of people you know, he wouldn't be at all against you inviting your share of people to the wedding he just doesn't want the reception to last too long to the point he's feeling more drained or stressed on the joyous occasion

After the ceremony and eating he'd be fine for MAYBE three hours max before suggesting y'all sneak off and just go to your room for the night, doesn't give a single fuck that it's his wedding he's going to let the guests have their fun while you have yours a little earlier than what you planned

Soap

He'd be nervous on the day, he's standing there, nervously smiling as he fidgets with his fingers, fixing his tie, his eyes wandering about the room until he hears the crowd gasp and he looks to the other side and sees you standing there, he is in awe of how you look, and when you get to stand in front of him he tells you how breathtaking you look, you jokingly ask if you don't always look breathtaking and he responds that you look especially radiant today

He's so lost in your eyes that when he has to answer "I do" he doesn't even hear the question, his mind not registering anything other than how stunning you look, the crowd laughs when he has to snap out of it and stammer an "I do"

When he goes in for the kiss he goes a bit too far and it almost turns into a heated kiss but you have to tap his shoulder reminding him that there's probably a kid or two among the guests

He is so happy he doesn't even care who is or isn't amongst the crowd, that lame ex of yours who somehow snuck in when you didn't even invite him? He barely bats and eye at it and just pulled you close for a kiss whenever they came near

Gaz

Both of you just keep sharing deep, meaningful looks as you see all the people you're the closest with arriving, he probably gets emotional when he was trying his best trying to keep it in and not lose it while he listened to your say your vows, especially when you momentary look up at him to say it

And he's waiting for when the officiant says he can kiss you so he can reach out, one arm around your waist and another cupping your face as he places a tender kiss on your lips just so when he pulls back you see the brightest smile on his face

I think a beach wedding would be ideal for him, idk he just seems like the outdoorsy type, and this is the best place he could come up with when asked where he'd like to get married, that or maybe in the mountains where he can see the beautiful scenery as you say yours vows

He'd love it if you watched the sunset together that day, as if nature were also sealing this promise between you, the scenery would one day serve as a nostalgic memory on which he can think back fondly of, everything from the soft breeze in the air, whether it be the sound of waves crashing as they reach his feet at the beach or the smell of pine trees in the mountainside

Roach

Omg y'all would would the cutest outdoor wedding, just imagine having it in a garden or by a beautiful lake with the golden sun that shines not in a harsh way but instead in a pleasant manner

And you both have your little quirks added in here and there, you compliment each other super well in that aspect that it's not even seen as unusual if the other references something because you totally get it

He'd have imagined this a million times, the night before he rehearsed his vows over and over again, he doesn't look up quotes or what to say, no this man lies on the floor and waits for the words to come to him, and the phrases that he writes come so naturally that he's having a hard time keeping it on only one sheet of paper

He'd probably go off the script, saying more than he intended until you're having to control yourself before you tackle and press kisses all over his face from now much you love him

He closes his eyes and feels incredibly lucky to have lived long enough to meet you and survive long enough through those missions to earn his moment of happiness that he hopes will last for the rest of his life

Alejandro

Have you heard of Mexican weddings? Anyone who finds out about the wedding is attending even if they weren’t originally invited and that last bit of dancing and drinking? It could go on until the next day

Forget getting any sleep, there is so much to stress over because the amount of people arriving could almost count for a festival itself, so much food is being prepared for all the guests that it’s overwhelming

And Alejandro would love every second of it, it’s all fun having so many people come together to celebrate and wish you all a happy marriage

The ideal place for Alejandro to get married would be at a cathedral, obviously it's only an option but it's where he's remembered weddings traditionally taking place at since he was a kid, he's always imagined it'd be him one day walking through those doors after getting married and having people throw rice at him as a newlywed

He behaves himself most of the time but as the evening turns into night his fingertips brush along your sides and you feel his breath on your nape as he whispers naughty things into your ears

Rudy

I'd like to imagine that Rudy would let you invite as many or as little people as you'd like, he wouldn't put a limit to any of it, and when you start getting stressed over wedding preparations he's able to just hold your hands in his and remind you how lucky he is to have you marry him, that anything will do and that it will all be a memory one day, so why worry and instead focus on making it a delightful one?

And after all the partying and celebrating, you're both left standing there alone in the venue, he takes your hand gently, his eyes gazing softly into yours as you dance to a song that he saved for only the two of you to dance to alone, I can imagine it being a song you listened to on the first date as he drove you home and now it's playing on your wedding day

You've probably held hands all day, from the moment you joined hands when at the altar, to walking down the aisle, to entering the dance floor for the first dance, and while you're both off to the side just sipping your drinks and still holding hands

But he wants to take a moment after all the guests have left to bask in this moment and soak in the feeling, asking you if everything turned out to your liking, just imagine laying in his arms as he holds you and you're both stargazing; a serene end to your night

Phillip Graves

The biggest, fattest wedding you can think of, everyone and their mothers are there, or in this case his Shadows and possibly anyone who's had at least one interaction with him, he's practically announcing it to the entire world

And I may be stereotypical when I say this but it's a barn wedding, the amount of times I've seen southern people go for barn weddings is insane I can't- my old riding place hosted those

It's beautiful nonetheless, he doesn't care who ends up going or not but all his Shadows are more than enthusiastic to celebrate with their boss, they've been teasing him nonstop since they found out he was dating you and now they won't stop especially since you're getting married

Tons of gifts and presents that you receive you swear you probably won't ever have to buy anything ever again, this is THE wedding that no wedding you've attended before or you'll attend in the future will ever compare to, it's that picture perfect that the venue owners ask to use the pictures on their website for advertisement

Makarov

I really feel like he'd be more the type to have it be a private wedding, that doesn't mean it isn't luxurious if anything he doesn't have a budget at all when trying to make you happy, he just leaves all the choices up to you, as long as you don't get stressed, the actual wedding planning is left to a wedding planner he hires you just have to sit there, look pretty and choose what ribbons you think would go best with the theme

As the wedding date approaches he gets more serious, and you worry he'd rethinking this whole thing or maybe he's stressed? On the day of turns out he had planned surprise after surprise for you, even though you thought you had been the one to choose most of the wedding theme and decoration turns out he himself had gone out and done a few things as well

He'd have hired a live band to play the music of your choice as you walk down the aisle, you're mesmerized by how it turned out, the adornments make the place look beautiful, but while you're admiring all this you don't notice him looking at you, you're the most extraordinary person he's met and he'll get to spend the rest of his life with you

Keegan

You guys eloped, originally the plan had been for a small, private wedding, you already had the list of people you would invite, but halfway through planning it you both stopped, looked at each other and just threw the plan away, you married with an officiant and two witnesses who happened to walk by

Even if people told you that you would later regret not having planned and waited for a big wedding you're the happiest you've ever been in this moment, the excitement rushing through not only yours but his veins that make every small detail seem perfect in this moment

People are probably wondering if you're both insane as you run together hand in hand down the streets, laughing and just happy that you're being carefree in this moment, just two souls in the expanse of this universe who have formed a deep connection in one another, what's not to be joyful about?

The future may be uncertain but it doesn't matter to neither of you, you've both had your difficult times but you deserve your happy epilogue

König

He's not one for big weddings, he cares more about the quality of it, which means he's very picky at the people who'll attend, he knows that at these events people tend to try and have their way when it's not even theirs, he simply doesn't want to deal with any unpleasant surprises when people he doesn't even know show up

When you appear he thinks there is no heaven greater than the one he is experiencing now, he thinks about all the chances there were before and now fortunate he is to meet you in your time and find each other when the world is so vast and time is fleeting

The vows he says in front of everyone are different from the ones he says only for you to hear in private that night, that's when he truly gets to be honest and say what he couldn't in front of all those people

There are many lovers in the world but none like you

Horangi

He's super passive about everything, you're sort of annoyed that he can never be bothered to worry about anything as much you do, colors for the wedding theme? He just shrugs and says a horrid color combination that could never work, it took him a three minutes max to choose what he would wear, BUT THEN on the day of when you're both in your separate rooms getting ready he's trying to get himself together because he's so overwhelmed by all the emotions he's experiencing right now

I think overall the wedding wouldn't be neither too big nor small, just the right amount of people from his side that are family members who have supported or come around to support him on this occasion and members he's close to

He's able to pull himself together though and try not to let his emotions get the best of him, he gets quite into the dancing along with you he swears he's never before felt as alive in the moment, he's grateful he was able to get his life together for you

Nikto

He wouldn't say anything about how he wants the wedding to be, whether it's big or small that's up to you, he doesn't care who you invite either, just as long as his favorite foods are served and he gets to enjoy good music for a little while before heading home with you is all that matters, oh and drinks, don't forget the alcohol

At some point throughout the night he sits back and watches as you dance with a friend of family member of yours and he thinks how funny it is that he ended up marrying you, when he first met you he couldn't have imagined that a single interaction with you could have let to this lifechanging moment

He can sleep calmly with you by his side, in his arms, safe and with no one to harm you if he's there, he may not admit it but this marriage only means he'll be like velcro to your side, that line he had always dreamed of securing? It'd be hard to get away from him

As long as this world continues he'll gladly be stuck with you, you've accepted him not matter how broken and scarred he is and he'll spend the rest of his life demonstrating with acts how much you mean to him, after all, it is the little things and acts in life that have made it truly worth living

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stuffeddrawer · 1 day ago

Text

cw: sex pollen, insanity?, lots of swearing if you're not into that. omegaverse reader is a sub alpha, tf141 are dom omegas bc i say so word count: 1497

(divider by @cafekitsune)

You fucked up.

It’s not even a big screw up, not yet. It’s not even world ending, but the tiniest inconveniences drove you up the damn wall and your mind was already distracted with a thousand other things. You find it hard to believe that people’s minds are usually quiet, are supposed to be quiet – yours has always been loud.

This isn’t what’s fucked up.

You’re in the middle of a deployment, started feeling off a few days ago but you brushed it off. Fool. Your brain chastises you. Should listen to your gut more often. Now look at you. Huffing and puffing and—

You noticed this off feeling a day before you went off on your mission – even that was supposed to be simple. Truly – get in, get out. Done. Supposedly.

But even that was still messed up.

You thought you tracked your cycle correctly, thought you had everything prepared, thought this mission wouldn’t overlap with your cycle, thought thought thought—

You picked at your gear, growing increasingly frustrated with every buckle, every strap. Every single piece of gear on your person, right down to your extra pair of gloves, was beginning to irritate you. You fucked up.

Your groan was loud enough to be heard when you couldn’t put your silencer on fast enough. You were already frustrated with your upcoming rut, skin flushed and warm, vision already tunnelled and now the sudden influx of hostiles did nothing to soothe that roar in your chest, the ringing in your ears. It did nothing to calm that angry alpha in your brain.

You were so frustrated with everything and everyone that you didn’t immediately smell something sweet in the air, something sweet enough to make you dizzy, discombobulated, your mind honing in on one thing and one thing only. That sweet, sweet omega smell. It took a moment, but your mind swam, vision blurred, growls and huffs leaving your mouth, desperate for someone to sink your teeth into, for someone to use you, for you to use someone. You didn’t care.

You fucked up.

You shouldn’t have gone on this mission, not when you knew you could go into a rut at any given time. You knew, you knew, and you still went. You knew this wasn’t going to end well, knew that something was going to happen. Fool. Knotted with anxiety and stress and you still should have trusted your gut. You wanted to wonder what the hell was wrong with you, that you could have sworn you had an extra day or two to really make sure you had everything you needed, but with that roar in your ears, the desperation seeping into your bones, you just don’t fucking care.

You pad over to where you thought the door was, rolling your eyes when you find it’s been locked. Shit. Your stomach growls, you think you growl, your blood rushing in your ears too loudly for you to understand just what the hell is happening. That smell is so sweet, like some pretty omega you just want to sink-

You huff, trying to take deep breaths once you realise what happened, just what exactly they’ve gassed you with, the room they’ve locked you in. Your cycle was forced to start, your gut was telling you this was going to happen. Your mind is racing and you just can’t keep up. You growl, yell, scream, throw yourself against the door, desperate to get it open, but it won’t budge. Like your stubbornness and inability to listen to what your body’s telling you, the door doesn’t open, doesn’t so much as whine when you press your weight against it.

You think you cry out when you move, the ache in your bones growing, the heat pooling between your legs almost burning now as your knees crash against the concrete beneath you. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Or does it feel so fucking good when you start to palm yourself? You don’t know. Your mind is so twisted and hazy, solely focused on one thing, and to have that thing denied to you? You think you’re going insane. Your grip on reality feels like it’s starting to slip.

You can’t even hear your radio sparking to life, can’t hear Price demanding a check in, can’t hear him repeating what he said, this time more urgently, a hint of fear perhaps? You really can’t tell if it’s just the blood in your ears rushing south, your entire body aching and on fire, or if he’s actually talking. You feel like you’re going insane. Going feral.

Your body writhes on the floor, equal parts bliss and agony, stars bursting in your eyes but you can’t tell if it’s from the pain or the pleasure. Or both. Sometimes it’s both. This time it just fucking hurts. Or does it? You don’t know. You don’t care. You fucked up.

You didn’t want to fuck the seam in your pants or your hand, you just wanted to get this mission done and spend your cycle surrounded by your packmates, surrounded by the people you trusted the most, people you knew would take care of you. God, it fucking hurts.

You want Kyle against your back, holding your arms behind you, whispering sweet nothings and cooing into your ear. Johnny to tease your nipples, bite and mark up your throat. You want John and Simon to make your legs shake, want them to use you as their own toy, want to be left mindless and fucked stupid, satisfied with your pretty omegas at your side, purring and content. You want Johnny and Kyle to clean you up, lick you clean, you want all these things, but you’re left on the floor in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere, desperate and borderline feral.

You shift your hips back and forth as you practically grind on your hand, on your knees now, groaning into your arm with your eyes screwed tight. You wanted someone to take you for all you had, make your legs shake and throat raw from how you practically cry out their name, treat you right like they’ve always treated you, how you’ve always treated them.

You fucked up and were now writhing on the floor, entire body shaking from the pain in your system, a small puddle of drool forming on the floor from how you’re sat – knelt? Bowed? You peek your eyes open, try to take a look around the room, try to find another way to escape, to free yourself, to eat and be eaten. Your vision is too hazy, too fuzzy for you to make anything out. You can’t focus on anything other than the ache between your legs.

The whine that fills the room – you think fills the room – is nothing short of desperate, angry and loud. Your chest hurts from how heavy you’re breathing, you can’t think past the ache in your bones, you think you cry out again, your finger pressing a button – buttons? You don’t know – your mind’s slipping away from you faster than you can catch it, like trying to hold fog. You don’t even feel scared anymore, just so fucking horny, desperate, pleading for someone to use you and for you to take your time with them, please, please, please.

God, you’re so hungry, your entire body shaking, growls and huffs leaving your lips as it feels like the walls are closing in – it hurts, it hurts so fucking good. You hump your hand faster, angry, but it’s still not enough. You want to feel your packmates’ hands on you, want to feel every inch of them, want them on you, in you, you don’t care – you want them in the worst way, but you fucked up and you’re stuck here, growling at nothing. You draw your hand back, hand slick with your arousal, room heavy with the scent of an alpha starting their cycle, forced to start it. You try to move, throw yourself against the wall to break yourself out of this trance, out of your own mind, but it only makes your brain break faster, sanity slipping like sand through dry fingers.

That stupid omega sweet scent drove you insane, you want more, crave more, are aching for more. Your mind felt like goo, like every sense of You was long gone. You think you hear the door open. Too late.

You’re too fucked up to recognise him, too feral to notice the boonie hat, the three other men standing behind him – you snarl at whoever walked in. Your body’s tense, more tightly wound than anyone’s ever seen. Your gaze is hungry and angry, and fucking famished. You’re starving, you’re angry, you’re so desperate for an omega to fuck, you’re—

You leap, your teeth barred and mind blank, snapped like a dry twig in the middle of a sweltering summer.

The task force’s now-feral alpha is knocked out before their teeth can do any lasting damage to their captain.

#cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #kyle gaz garrick #things stuffed in the drawer #cod modern warfare #cod headcanons #tf141 x gn!reader #tf 141 x you #tf 141 x reader #poly!141 #cod omegaverse #alpha reader #omega 141 #mdni #pls tell me if i missed a tag - i want to tag things correctly #tw dub con #i guess would be the best tag

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bussyyeukie · 1 day ago

Text

Neon Lights and Blood Fights p.3

(fighter!simon x secretary!reader)

part one. part two. part three.

It had taken you nearly a full day to do that paperwork.

Could’ve taken you an hour of just signing blindly, but you decided to read (most) of the pages inside. A handful of NDA’s, some stuff about medical history, agreements about the job–that you won’t find another while working for Price and his men, and that you won’t disclose any info (more NDA’s within that) about his, and yours now really, fighters. Stuff like that. Not to mention the pages, upon pages, upon pages of legal crap you did not understand. You weren’t dumb, not by any means, but it was just legal, lawyer type paperwork that you’d never dealt with before. So it was no surprise that your search history looked like you were trying to cheat on the Bar exam by the end of it.

Currently, you were sitting at the desk in front of the entrance, a shitty little desk with a few things on it and a file cabinet. Not really an office desk but more something where some files about the fighters and “clients” were kept. Nothing too in depth, really it all just looked like gym filing to anyone else, and it’s where Price had stationed you for the time being. You had voiced your concern about confidential information being so close to the front entrance, and he had said, “Don’t worry about’ it darlin’, I got my own tricks up my sleeve too…” and left you with a wink. You assumed it meant the information was false, or it was extremely known things. All fighters have two legs and bones!

You rubbed your eyes, hair tucked behind your ears. You failed to really style it today, so it sat a bit messy. Glancing tired eyes at the clock it read 3:00pm. You groaned, looking down to the empty desk in front of you. All except a number 2 pencil you had been pushing around.

Price had sat you there this morning, and said to “keep an eye out” which meant you’d been sitting there for about 3 hours doing nothing. Watching the occasional person walk by, and one random person in training gear walked in. You sent them Price's direction with a sweet smile.

The bell above the door chimed, you looked over, sitting up a little straighter, your shirt stretching slightly across your chest and shoulders. You’d decided on a skirt and button-up short sleeve today. Wasn’t terribly cold out, and you’d learned the gym was usually warm–if not hot–almost all the time. A fairly snug gray skirt reached your knees, very professional mind you.

A smile creeped onto your face as you spotted the brunette Scotsman push through the door, large duffle bag in hand and hoodie on, but still rolled up over his bright cast. Looking down the street, shouting something.

“Ah won’t staun ‘ere aw day waitin' fur ye!” he scoffed, “Hurry up!”

He grumbled to himself and paused when he saw you sitting at the desk, attentive.

A cheeky grin swiped across his lips, pushing the door open further, you raised an eyebrow as he walked in.

“Weel looky here,” he leaned against the desk, ginger on his bad arm, “this sure is a bonnie sicht fur this afternoon, eh?”

You chuckled a bit, “Good afternoon Johnny.”

You’d know these boys for about a week. Not especially well or anything, but Johnny was scary friendly, and so was Kyle–so it was easy to talk to them when they were constantly bothering you and forcing conversation. Simon on the other hand…he kept his distance. Not a lot of distance, but still distance. He was polite, and spoke to you when needed, but he didn’t go as out of his way to talk to you like Johnny did–and when Simon did it was short, awkward conversation that typically ended in him roughly excusing himself or going, “I have to go, train…” and walking off in some random direction.

Once he’d walked into the girls bathroom (not used since there were never any women in the gym) and stayed in there for 30 minutes just in case you were still out there when he emerged. Icing on the cake was he said he was going to go speak with Price as he walked away.

You honestly liked talking to him. Weird as he was, Simon was sweet and was obviously not used to conversation with anyone other than like five people currently in his life. Five might be pushing it. Judging from his typical company, he probably wasn’t used to getting a word out during conversation.

He reminded you of yourself in the 3rd grade when you thought the weird talking points you'd memorized the night before was gonna make you friends.

“Price mov' ye oot here fur the day??” Johnny leaned in closer, smug as he grinned, catching your eyes everytime you looked somewhere else, “Pretty borin’, eh?”

You rolled your eyes, “You wouldn’t believe, nothing to do but sit here. Wait for you and the rest to show up I guess…”

He laughed, clapping a hand on your desk and shouldering his bag more, “Ach! Weel, somewan's been sittin' aroond aw day waitin', an' sure is gonna get a kick oot o' this welcome committee!”

You raised a brow, crossing your arms on the desk and leaning in, secretly, “Oh really?”

“Aye,” Johnny nodded, “He’s strugglin’ t'day.”

You glanced behind Johnny, just in time to spot a large body filling up the doorway, bell chiming as the door opened. The lumbering blond had on a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, frowning as he walked in. Catching your eye immediately, as he gripped the strap of his duffle bag tighter, jaw clenching.

He walked up to Johnny, standing next to him, looking at you. He was taller than Johnny, and had a good view over the desk where you sat, not that it was a tall desk or anything to begin with.

His cheeks went a bit pink as he stared at you, blushing a bit yourself when you realized he wasn’t really staring at your face.

Maybe the skirt was unprofessional for this environment?

“Good afternoon Simon,” you nodded tentatively to him, with a sugary smile. Tugging the end of your skirt down, trying to stretch it past your knees.

He grunted and nodded, “Aft'noon.”

Fidgeting with the strap of his bag slightly.

You glanced behind them, noticing the absence of a person there, “Where’s Gaz?”

Looking between the two, Soap shrugged, and Simon rolled his eyes.

“He’s leyte t'day, summat about 'is cat,” his grumbly voice seemed to clear in the gym, even with the background noise. Johnny was loud, sure, but something about Simon’s voice just cut so clear through everything. Maybe he did theater in high school, and learned to project.

Your pouted slightly, looking between the two, "Oh, I hope she's ok, Kyle said she'd been acting a little off recently."

“Price got 'er workin' reception fur the day” Johnny jutted a thumb at you as he eyed up the slouching hulk next to him.

“Ah can see that Johnny…”

You huffed a bit, standing up, catching the way Simon immediately refocused his attention on you, not hiding the way he looked you up and down. His brows scrunching together, lips pressing a bit tighter.

“Come on,” Johnny scoffed, “Come back with us, we’ll show you a few moves huh?”

His chuckle was cut short as he seemed to snap to attention a bit. Shoulders squaring and a weird look crossing his face as he looked past you.

Your brows quirked up before a heavy hand found itself on your shoulder, the sudden sensation making you yelp and jump. Whipping around to look at the man standing behind you. A warm smile on his face, crows feet deep set next to his eyes and full cheeks.

“Pullin’ ‘er away from work so soon?”

“O-oh,” you put a hand on your chest, hands nearly shaking as your heart pumped under your ribs. Gulping as you licked your lips, the chapstick left a sticky wet on your tongue that tasted of vaseline, “Mr. Price, you spooked me.”

He chuckled deep in his chest, hand dragging down your arm as he gripped it, tucking you against his side in a buddy-buddy way as he looked to the boys in front of the desk.

“My 'pologies darlin', didn’t mean t'give yer a fright,” he jostled you slightly, your gaze finding itself back to Simon, “Shud work on yer awarness sometime though.”

“Y-yeah, probably,” a tight smile found itself onto your face, Simons fists clenched tight, the one on the strap of his bag, and the once hanging by his hips. Muttering something to himself and looking from the hand around your arm to Price–who was looking back at him.

Johnny broke the moment of silence quickly, “Wasn’t gonny, sir! Jist a joke, wouldn’t dream o' pullin' 'er frae work.”

Price jostled you again slightly, your feet finding themselves in a poor placement as you stumbled for a moment. Praying you wouldn’t totally tumble on a rolled ankle. Finding your balance quickly, looking up embarrassed. Cheeks pinker than before as you stood with your shoulders raised. Pressed against the side of Price’s chest, you looked up to him, finding him already looking at you. Your eyes widening as you nervously look back in front of you, a sheen of sweat finding itself around your collar and your palms–which were clasped tightly against each other.

“Good! I need 'er fer a li'l outing,” he looked to Simon out of the corner of his eye, demeanor changing slightly, more professional and stern, “Yeh too, Simon, bizness mattahs.”

Simon nodded curtly, bumping into Johnny as he walked past, not rough but in an irritated manner. Sending a wicked side eye to the scot as he passed, you followed him with your gaze for as long as you could, without turning your head dramatically to catch him turning the corner.

Jumping as Price squeezed your arm roughly, snapping you back into the moment, and away from how Simon's shoulders lumbered as he walked and his butt was probably thicker than yours.

“Yes! Uh, Sir,” you collected yourself quickly, then pinched your brows, “Outing?”

“Yeh ma’am, I’ll brief ya more on the ride there, got somethin' fer ya in the meantime.,” he gestured to under the desk, “Grab yer things, quick.”

He pat your low back as he let you move and lean down, grabbing the bag under the desk with your work items in it. Grunting as he moved you, pulling you with him away from the front desk and away from Johnny. Who scoffed and waved to you cheekily as he walked towards the other side of the gym, towards the rings.

You watched him for a moment, before stumbling as John quickened his pace towards his office.

“Um, sir,” you cleared your throat, “I promise I wouldn’t have left work, even if they invited me, I would’ve stayed right at my spot.”

Price laughed, glancing at you as he pulled at his door, holding it open to you.

“Don’t worry, Y/n, I know yer a good, 'ard workin' girl, wouldn’t let temptation stray ya.”

His smile was so warm it almost didn’t fit the rest of his demeanor. You swallowed, nodding as you quickly made your way into the office.

It was stuffy as ever, the scent of smoke ever present, and the old chair was as worn as always. There was a file on the desk as Price walked over and snatched it up. Passing it over to you.

“You’ll be joinin' me an' Simon on a business meetin', here’s some info on the other party and their fighters an' that, as well as the possible location,” he leaned against the desk on his palm, shifting his belt in the loops of his pants.

You cautiously flipped open the folder, it wasn't very thick, only a few pages really. Some informational sheets.

“Um, thank you sir?”

“So polite. Wait outside fer a mo', Simon’ll be with us fer a bit, I just gotta grab some things an' we’ll be on our way. Meetin's in 30,” Price chuckled, shaking his head, he stopped himself before turning to you more, “After today, you’ll be comin' to all me meetin's with me, an' you’ll be in charge o' schedulin' 'em an' keepin' up to date. Got it?”

Nodding your head, and tucking some hair behind your ear, you smiled tight, “Yes Mr. Price.”

The burly man patted you on the shoulder, smoothing out the fabric of your shoulder where he crinkled it.

“Now go wait outside for Simon.”

“Yes, sir…”

“Oh, and drop yer bag 'ere, lot safer than just sittin' out under the desk out there,” he gestured to the room, but mostly to the spot under the large window that was always closed off with shitty curtains. You licked your lips slightly as you nodded and thanked him and set your bag down, pulling a pen from it and chapstick. Shoving both into the pocket of your blouse quickly, same with your phone. It wasn’t huge, but it did pull at the fabric of the pocket.

Your lips felt dry as you watched him walk around his desk, he was dressed in a semi nicer shirt than usual, and his pants were slacks instead of jeans. You turned on the toe of your foot, and dragged your eyes away from Price as he yanked a drawer open.

The door was heavy as you opened it and stepped outside, shoes clicking on the hard floor.

The metal of the wall next to Price’s door was cold through the fabric of your shirt, and you took a deep breath in, letting your head fall against the wall. You looked at the subtly swaying light on the ceiling. Thinking about how you got here.

You huffed and rubbed your eyes carefully–trying your best to not smear the makeup.

“Yer cryin'?”

The deep voice made you jump, whipping your head to look at the man next to you. Slightly taken aback at what you saw, brows furrowing and mouth parting as you looked at Simon.

“What?” you shook your head, “N-no, I, no–I was just rubbing my eyes, sorry…”

Simon shrugged and turned, hands in his pockets, his eyes boring holes into you.

“Alrigh',” his response was short and sweet. You looked him up and down. He was in a suit, not an exactly nice one, but like something a fancy limo guy would wear, you weren’t even sure Simon could sit in a limo, much less the driver's cab, he just seemed too…large.

But he didn’t look bad, in fact he looked pretty handsome, it fit him at least, but the tie wasn’t tied exactly well, and the top button was undone, as well as the buttons by his hands. The shirt also wasn’t tucked in, and the coat was unbuttoned. Not to mention his pants were tight on him, not noticeably unless you were looking…but you were in fact looking.

He looked unbelievably hot.

Your jaw clenched and your shoulders raised when you found your gaze drifting back up to his face. His brows pinched and lips slightly pursed.

“Wha’?”

“Huh,” your voice sounded foreign, cracked a little in fact.

Simon scoffed and looked to the side, “Where’s Price?”

You straightened up fully, gulping, and tucking hair behind your ear that didn’t need to be tucked, “Um, he’s in his office, he’ll be right out though! Said for me to wait out here with you for a moment…”

Simon nodded, and leaned against the wall, looking off towards the rings.

“So…” you broke the silence, with that weird pitchy voice that wasn't yours, “What’s with the suit?”

Simon grumbled, pulled a hand up to rub his face, “Stupid shit, Price makes us wear 'em when we interact with other…fighters, says we can’t be lookin’ a mess when 'e’s in charge of us.”

You nodded, then pursed your lips, “Should…should I be dressed better?”

Looking down at your outfit, you smoothed out your skirt, and double checked your buttons and collar, and glanced at your legs to see if you had any runs in your stockings.

“Nah,” Simon's voice was stuffy as he cleared his throat, “Yer lookin' good. Real pretty, like a proper business lass.”

You blinked owlishly as you looked at him, forgetting about your triple check of your clothes, swallowing thickly as you felt your stomach shift. Face growing hot and your knees creak with the sudden weight of your body.

“O-oh,” you ran your hands down your front, looking down at the floor–missing how Simon tracked your hands down your front, “Well, thank you. You look, really handsome too actually.”

At that Simon cleared his throat louder, shifting uncomfortably, looking like he just got hit in the stomach.

“They're uncomfortable fuckin’ clothes.”

You shrugged, “Well your tie is tied wrong for starters, plus you don’t really seem like you wear ‘office ready’ clothes often. Although you look more like a bodyguard.”

Simon looked at you as he licked the inside of his cheeks, the flesh moving differently with the scar tissue in its wake, you’d seen Simon's face a lot, and each time it’s like the first. You'd also notice he acted different in the mask, more A-line with the 'stoic fighter' persona. There’s always something new you realize, or notice about his face, or he makes an expression you’d never seen or you watch how his skin tugs in certain ways due to his scaring. But you never got when Johnny would make a joke about scaring girls off, you assumed he was getting more than he could handle. But now as you thought about it–he’d very rarely speak about women, or any ‘encounters’ he’d had with them. Maybe it was because you were there, and he didn’t want to spill his guts around some stranger girl. Not like Johnny would, seemed like he had a new girl every night.

“It’s tied fine.”

You giggled, crossing your arms, “I think I’d know Simon.”

You missed that way his shoulders tensed when you’d said his name, and you definitely missed the way his hands shifted in his pockets and if he was a little less ashen he’d be blushing.

“Well it doesn’t do any good to just point out I didn’t tie the stupid bugger well.”

He tugged at the tie with one of his hands, loosening it more.

God you swore the room instantly got 10 degrees hotter.

“I–well I’ve just tied a lot of ties ok,” you gulped, “I didn’t ya know, mean anything–I, I can help! If you want…”

What you wanted was to leave, to throw yourself from a building and somehow figure out how to delete what you say out of existence. But you can’t do that, so you just stand there with your lips pressed together and a constipated look on your face.

Simon curled a brow and shrugged, “You can if ya want. Your choice.”

You felt so light after that, he took a step forward and your muscles froze. All of a sudden you were worried you’d completely forgotten how to tie a tie.

“Yeah I mean,” you paused, maybe saying something about how he’s supposed to look nice and not sloppy wouldn’t be the best, “Just come here…”

Simon hesitated, then clenched his jaw, taking a step forward as you tucked the file under your arm, squeezing it tight to you. Fixing your hair behind your ears before you stood straight, reaching out to his tie–which was a simple black tie. Honestly it was a little short for the tall man, but you didn’t think Simon would care too much about how long his tie was supposed to be.

“I think I have to take it all the way off,” you said, looking closer at the knot the blond had tied it into. You glanced up at his face, and the tall man shrugged.

“Do what ya need.”

Your hands worked fast to untie it, and pulled the tie from around his neck before straightening out. Your face felt hot–you were sure you were red, or looked sweaty at least, and Simon was just…staring. Brows relaxed for once as he looked at you with a blank face, which, was slightly softer than his usually resting face. As you went to re-loop the tie, you found yourself going onto your tippy toes slightly. Leaning in closer to him as your arms went up. You tried to keep distance between the two of you, professionally of course, he was technically your boss in some way. But Simon leaned down, almost like he was chasing the distance you were subtly creating as you leaned back. You could smell him, even in ‘nicer’ clothes he still had the almost minty lingering scent of cigarettes and a certain musky sweat smell to him. It wasn’t bad, like BO sweat, but it wasn’t like cedar or “ocean mist” or anything like that.

You looked up to his face, quickly finding his eyes locked onto you. Sunken and brown, you couldn’t help but notice how thick his lashes were, and they were light, not blond but light. They seemed to catch the light of the gym beautifully, even though the lighting was terrible, Simon didn’t seem to get the memo. Even his eyes looked like they were reflecting a golden hour type light. Even with the dark circles and eye-black residue around them (which you noticed never fully came off, you’d never see him without some short of muck on his face).

You gulped, licking your lips nervously as you snapped your gaze back to the tie, burning hotter than ever. There was no way he happened to not catch you hard you were staring directly into his eyes.

But, you didn’t notice how intensely he was staring at you, so he might’ve not noticed.

“Um, so,” your voice again was squeaky as you spoke, “You just make sure this side is longer than this side, and then cross it over here…”

Your hands were slightly unsteady as you showed him. Explaining as you went, finishing with a fairly decent tied tie. Much better than what Simon had done, as you adjusted it, you also found yourself fixing his collar, which was a bit uneven, and buttoning one of the buttons he hadn’t. Before you found yourself squaring out his shoulders like a mother would her child you stopped yourself.

“Uh, sorry, got ahead of myself, I tied my boyf–ex’s ties all the time, he didn’t know how, like at all, it was embarrassing…for him! Not for you!” you chuckled nervously as you pulled your hands away, rubbing them on your skirt, which you also adjusted where it didn’t need it, tugging it down a bit, “It’s totally understandable for you, he was just like, um a child ya know. Totally helpless…”

As soon as you mentioned him you regretted it, not only did it make you think about him, which you had tried not to do since you last saw him, but Simon’s whole demeanor changed. He tensed and his brows pinched tight, his mouth curled down and he had a thinly veiled sneer on his face. Shoulders leaning forward slightly, fists clenched at his sides.

“Enuff of that,” he pulled his hand up to run it down the tie, looking from it to you, looking at you with that same annoyed sunken look he typically had, “Don’t gotta talk about that tosser anymore. Fuckin’ wanker pushed his luck, used it all up with ya.”

You raised a brow, looking at him confused.

“Used it all up?”

“Glad t’see ya kids gettin’ along.”

The stray voice jolted you two out of the bubble of standing outside Price’s office. Speaking of, the grumbly man was closing the door behind him, holding a sleek black briefcase in his hand. Smiling at the two of you.

“I–” Looking at Simon, you realized how close you two were still standing, how he was slightly leaning down to you, and how you were standing with your hands clasped behind your back in a school-girl way.

Simon grumbled, standing up straighter, “Ya talk like yer on yer deathbed, old man.”

Your heart was racing, and your eyes wide as you looked at Price. Not exactly sure why you felt like you’d been caught doing something, but your body was reacting the same, embarrassed and nervous. Not a feeling you enjoyed.

“Um, yes sir! I was helping with Simons tie,” you yipped, gesturing to the tie. Simon rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Your stomach jumped at how barrel chested he looked, and how thick his arms looked, and his fucking mitts of hands.

You quickly snapped out of it, smiling at Price sheepishly.

“Aw, Simon couldn’t tie ’is own tie,” Price laughed and clapped the large man on the shoulder, giving him a look you couldn’t quite figure out. Felt like you were out on an inside joke.

“I can tie me tie, she just... does it better, office-snob type,” Simon glanced at you, the back to Price.

“Hey,” your brows pinched together as you huffed, “I’m not a snob…”

Price laughed, “Don’t worry darlin’, we don’t think yer a snob, yer just well put together, somethin’ Riley’s not used to.”

The bearded man laughed again as he clapped Simon on the shoulder harder than before, almost as a reprimand. Price squeezed Simon’s shoulder as he looked at you.

“Well, best get on our way, there’s a car out front we’re takin’,” and with that Price walked off, whistling a soft tune as he went, “Don’t wanna leave everyone waitin’.”

When he was out of ear-shot, you looked to Simon.

“I’m not a snob,” you said, crossing your arms, pouting.

“Don’t read too much int’ it, love,” Simon didn’t seem to be listening too much as he looked at you, but he shook his head and as he walked ahead of you, you swore you saw a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

Scoffing to yourself, you jogged to catch up, following the two men out of the building. Price let you two to a back parking lot you didn’t know was there, and to a large truck. It wasn’t exactly brand new but it looked like a sturdy work truck.

Honestly, you were expecting something…nicer. An expensive black car with blacked out windows and so clean the paint was like a mirror. But, a large dirty white work truck that was slightly lifted and had dents in the doors was the only car in the lot. You clutched the folder tight as you followed after the two, nearly jogging to keep up with their long legged pace, and the uneven ground wasn’t ideal for heels.

You were also very aware that there was apparently no backseat.

Price reached into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys, glancing back to the two of you.

“Sorry 'bout the ride, darlin', the regular work car is,” Price paused to think over his words as he stuck the key into the door, unlocking it, “In the shop at the mo', got a bit banged up. So we're usin' Simon's truck.”

Simon sighed as his large hand reached for the passenger door, pausing as he looked into the car the back to you, like he was piecing something together. The driver's side door groaned as it opened, rocking the truck as Price swung himself in, grinning.

“She ridin’ in the bed then?”

Simon jerked the door open as he shot a nod towards you. Your eyes widened as you looked at the bed of the truck, swallowing thickly as you looked at the brute, he didn’t look like he was cracking a joke. But then again, he never really did.

“I'm not riding in the bed,” you said, pointing a finger at it, then looking at Price, “–um, sir…”

Price laughed, turning the car on, the engine rolling.

“Don’t worry, you’re not ridin' in the bed,” he chuckled, patting the seat next to him (which was not a seat but the hump in between the two seats that would maybe fit a five year old…so not you).

“O-oh,” you squeaked, Simon stepped off to the side, still gripping the door tightly. His lips pressed tight together. You grabbed onto the truck and lifted yourself up, setting the folder down as you climbed into the truck. As awkward as it was, and you nearly stumbled forward as you pulled yourself all the way in. A bit red in the face as you sat yourself next to Price, keeping a few inches between you two.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Price pat your knee and looked past you, the grin on his face growing.

You had a few inches separating you and Price, that was till Simon got into the truck. The cab rocking and his large frame squishing you against Price. Your body tensed as you were squished tight between the two men.

Simon grunted, shooting you a side eye, “Can’t ya move o'er.”

Your tongue felt thick in your mouth, curling in on yourself instinctively, then looked to Simon with a crease in your brows, “No. If I move over anymore I’ll be in Mr. Price’s lap…”

The blond man let out an annoyed grunt, “Just–christ woman…”

Price let out a belly laugh as he looked to you both, “Now no bickering, I need you two on your best behavior for this meeting, understood?”

He looked at you at the end, gaining a bit more of a serious tone. Your shoulders raised and you nodded. File clutched in your hands as it rested on your lap.

“Of course, uh, sir, Mr. Price…”

Simon scoffed lightly next to you and Price patted your thigh, feeling Simon's arms rub against you as he crossed them over his chest.

The ride was stuffy, even though the windows were down both men smelling heavily of tobacco and Simon smelled of sweat and Price of cologne. Not to mention the truck, god it smelled like an ashtray and mothballs, and, the lingering scent of pennies would catch your nose every other breath. The scratchy radio playing something quietly.

Unfortunately both men man-spread, and it was a manual truck, so you could either try to spread your legs around the gear shift, or tuck them tight against Simon. Which, you opted for. Body burning hot at each bump or gear shift that jolted the truck–at a certain point you think Price was doing it on purpose with how harsh his start and stops were, and a particularly sharp turn that landed you nearly splayed over Simon's lap.

You refused to look at him after that, face burning all the way down your neck. Simon kept a steady gaze out the windshield, solid as stone in his seat. At another rough turn by Price, Simon moved. A hand reaching over to press itself hastily against your shoulder–steadying you on the turn.

“Uh, thank you,” you muttered out, licking your lips nervously, not looking at the bulky man.

He grunted in return and looked out the window next to him, his hand moving down to wipe itself along his slacks, his muscles tense as if he was hesitating to make a movement.

“Ow long 'ave you lived in town?” Price's voice cut into the air., Making you jump slightly.

“A few years,” you fidgeted with your hair then looked at Price, the older man switching between looking at you and the road, “Something like 4 or 5, I moved once while I was here.”

“Oh is that right?” Price mused. You nodded and hummed at him, looking back in front of you. There weren’t many people out, and not too many cars parked along the road. You were entering a nicer part of town, where more of the business and financial buildings were. Nothing extremely high end, but your old job was about 10 minutes from where you were now.

As you were looking around the area, watching people hurry up and down the street, all in nice clothing, you felt Simon shift next to you, then felt the weight of his arm behind you. Your brows raised as you instinctively sat up straighter, sending a side-eye his way.

He had his face turned away from you, and looked even more tense than before, but this time his arm was resting on the upholstery behind you, there were no headrests, so you could lay your head back on his thick forearm if you wanted it. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, and you could smell him more now that you were essentially tucked into his chest, under his arm.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to move, or scooch away from him. In fact the thought of it made you tense up more. The car was silent.

“Comin’ up on it,” Price said, a cheesy grin on his face as he looked at you both, “It’s jus' 'round the cor'ner.”

“Mmhm!” your voice was squeaky, and went even higher when you felt Simon’s arm move closer to you, more wrapping around your shoulder now. You honestly didn’t know what to do, it was like when a cat laid on you and you didn’t want it to move…or claw you to shit. This all felt like some Johnny shenanigan, the “yawn to arm over the shoulder” thing seemed very much up his lane, but not Simons. Especially not with you, you weren’t sure he liked you in general–much less had a romantic liking hidden in there for you.

Price pulled around a tall building with large glass windows, and parked in a shadowed off parking area down an alley behind it. Roughly turning the car off and opening the groaning door.

“Hop out, love-birds, we’re 'ere!”

Simon ripped his arm away from you faster than you'd ever seen him move, and got out of the car, walking off quickly.

God it felt like you had whiplash, grabbing the file tightly and slipping out of the car, hopping down onto the pavement. Looking up to see Simon pulling on his black balaclava, tucking it into the collar of his shirt, speaking quietly with Price at the end of the bed of the truck. You found yourself frowning slightly at the covered up face, you’d grown to like not seeing it covered.

Simon glanced over, rolling his shoulders when he saw you. Your brows pinched slightly as he just stared at you, before peeling his eyes away to look back at Price who was saying something to the large man.

You closed the door of the truck, and looked down at your attire, adjusting your skirt and shirt, flattening it out properly before you walked over to the two men.

Price looked at you as he shoved the keys in his pocket, resting his hands in them as he spoke.

“Ah Y/n,” he sounded more reserved than usual, more professional, “Stick close to Simon, yeah? Don’t want ya wanderin' off in 'ere, an' don’t speak to anyone unless you're with me an' I’m talkin' to 'em. Got it?”

You nodded, “Yes Sir.”

Simon sighed heavily, as Price clapped his hands together.

“Wonderful,” the man reached up and pinched your cheek, “Simon'll keep ya safe, darlin', don’t worry 'bout it. Jus' be sweet an' smile that pretty smile.”

You nodded and rubbed where Price pinched you, looking up at Simon who was looking steadily at Price with a hard gaze.

“They really got into character when it related to business,” you thought, huffing through your nose. Following them into the building. You felt your pace falter slightly at how nice the inside of the building was. Pristine and shiny and everything looked so expensive. Especially the people walking around.

There were a few eyes on you three as you walked in, but for the most part everyone acted like this was a normal occurrence. Which, it probably was for all you knew. It was cold inside, and smelled like a hospital. Not warm or welcome at all.

Price walked up to the front desk where a pretty girl was sitting, typing away. She had hair pins holding her hair back and a radiant face. She glanced up at you three, her eyes lingering on you–looking you up and down before glancing to Price with a “really?” look on her face.

“Mr. Price?” she asked, folding her arms on her desk, tilting her head.

“Yeh, ma’am,” he grinned. Simon stood behind and to the side of Price, looming over him and the desk–like some kind of evil guardian angel.

“You’re late you know,” her tone was sharp, not terribly, but she wasn’t exactly pleased. You felt your face flush when she looked at you, “Why have the secretary if you aren’t going to use her?”

Price waved her off, “We made it, didn’t we?”

The woman behind the desk shook her head and picked up the phone, typing numbers in, “You know Kate hates starting off late…”

Price chuckled and shrugged, “I’ll deal with 'er, don’t you worry.”

The woman laughed and scoffed, “Yeah I’m sure you will–12th floor, third room on the left, and you better hurry up.”

With that Price nodded and led you both to an elevator, once on it you three stood in silence. Standing between Price and Simon, the elevator had the lingering scent of cologne and perfume, watered down by the time between people using it.

“That was Laswell's wife,” John said, leaning against the wall of the elevator slightly, stretching his leg out like his knee was bothering him, “Sweet woman, but no doubt sick of us coming in and putting her wife in a bad mood.”

The man chuckled, shaking his head.

“Laswell?” you asked, quirking a brow. The name ringing a faint bell in your memory.

“Ah yes,” Price snapped, “I don’t believe I ever officially put 'er in your files. Think of 'er as upper management, she’s me boss essentially. Oversees most, if not all, of the organizations workin' in our line o' business. Gets the las' say in 'bout 80% o' anythin'. Tough woman. Makes sure everyone gets theirs an' gets it however she deems it fair— which, ain't always exactly fair.”

“She can be a'right cunt most o' the time,” Simon grumbled.

“Don’t mind 'im, he’s jus’ pissed Laswell lets guys use ‘performance enhancin' drugs’ before fightin' 'im,” Price explained.

“Fuckin’ shits.”

You nodded, feeling your back straighten as the numbers above the doors grow higher, anxiety seeping through your skin and dripping into sweat. An image of this evil, towering, red-eyed woman popping into your head. Sharp claws that had blood dried underneath. Shadowed eyes and a serpent tongue. Sweat beading at the base of your back, joints tight as you shifted, shoes suddenly unbearable and clothes incredibly tight.

The elevator dinged, and you felt your breath suction back into your lungs, nearly making you lightheaded.

Simon shifted up straighter, hands clasped behind his back and Price was still messing with his leg, shaking it out as cursing about an old injury under his breath. As the doors opened you nearly wanted to look away, fearing you’d meet eye to eye with medusa.

Instead you saw the bright light of the floor, and a lean blonde woman standing with her arms crossed a few feet from the elevator doors. She had her hair pulled into a bun, her bangs swept across her forehead. Lips pulled into a frown and brows wrinkled together. Her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows and her shirt was perfectly tucked into her navy slacks which fit her unbelievably well. Straight legged all the way down to cover the sleek black heel she was wearing. The air that radiated off of her reminded you of the very high up business women you’d see go off on people at your old job or who your boss would try to suck up too when they’d come in. Demanding respect and holding so much power over the room.

“You’re late,” she said, voice heavy with annoyance, she licked her teeth under her lips and sighed, “Again.”

my lovely tag list for this series:

@sophhieannee . @rafaelacallinybbay . @oceantornadoo . @jamdoughnuts . @msjaeger .

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