#Just the usual business at 141

[mikhailwrites]

Waiting for Connection 13 / Ghost x Soap

Ghost is retired and plays milsim videogame. Soap is still in the force and sometimes plays that same videogame...

Disclaimer: I've played a lot of Ghost Recon Wildlands this past weekend (damn, I almost forgot how much I love that game) and it shows :D

Previous chapter | AO3

Ghost plays much less in the following days. Instead, he spends the majority of his time in the mission editor. The new mission is going to be much bigger and more complex. Ghost raked his memory until he came up with a perfect scenario for a fire team of five. It’s an amalgam of several missions he’s done. Hostage rescue from a heavily fortified base with little to no intel. Difficult terrain, lots of guards, unknown layout of the compound.

He builds the base meticulously on a rocky hill overseeing a valley, with watchtowers and unclimbable walls with coils of razor wire on top. Oh, and there are cameras along the perimeter wall, too—absolutely the worst tactical situation.

Ghost places the A. I. controlled enemies throughout the base. Some walk in pairs, some go solo, and others oversee the situation from a vantage point. Most of them have visibility on another patrol at any given time, and their paths cross here and there. They have good weapons on them, but the base also has some pretty nasty surprises.

As a cherry on top, the hostages are civilians, so he adjusts their stamina to be lower than the default setting for the soldiers. He also can’t forget about the exfil, placing checkpoints and random patrols along the way. The mission won’t be over until they manage not only to free the hostages but also to cover some distance so the extraction helo will be able to land safely.

Frankly, if Ghost had been given this mission back in the day, he would have told his CO that it could not be done. The only way would be to wait for the enemy to transfer the hostages and intercept them. In this instance, however, they’re going to tackle it head-on. He’s done his fair share of miracles and impossible missions, but this right here? That is absurd, which is why it’s going to be so much fun.

Especially since there’s only one way for him to play it with all the knowledge he has: he’s going to be on the other team. The defending one. And with a little luck, he’s going to have a teammate, too, apart from the AI.

It takes him a week to fine-tune it to perfection. Or, well, as close as he can get with AI guards. There are a lot of them, but they wouldn’t pose all that much of a threat to a well-trained and professional unit. He’s so immersed in the preparation that he even turns down John’s numerous offers to play together. As much as he’s sorry and misses his voice and stupid jokes a little, this is going to be so much better.

Right now, he only needs to confirm one last thing—the piece de la resistance. Ghost takes his phone and dials the number. Honestly, Soap is doing wonders for his social life. Simon knows that Kyle will call him out on it soon, but it doesn’t matter. If it goes smoothly, the payback will be very much worth any and all ridicule from his former Sergeant.

The call is actually not very long at all. Because Kyle always has been and always will be up for some good old fun. Especially on the account of men under his command. He accepts Ghost’s offer for a 2v4 match under one condition: the boys can’t know it’s him. Simon happily agrees.

Finally, the day comes. Simon joins the voice chat and receives a warm welcome.

“Almost thought you’d fallen from the face of the Earth,” Soap jokes, yet his voice is slightly serious. Maybe Simon wasn’t the only one who missed the other’s voice and jokes.

“No, but I’ve been working on another mission,” Simon says as casually as he’s able.

There’s an excited “ooooh,” from Rudy, who, apparently, managed to get a new headset in the meantime.

“Don’t leave us hanging, mate,” Roach joins in, albeit keeping his cool, at least for now.

“This one is a bit different. Here’s the briefing,” Ghost uploads several files. It’s a briefing stack, alright. Map of the area, outline of the mission, and all the details the non-existent command has on the mission. Which is not much, really. Also, photos of the hostages and some bullshit story about them having information on a local drug cartel. He waits until the first person gets to the part of the brief where it says that there will be four operators.

“Wait… four?” Soap asks, audibly confused. “But there’s five of us?”

“I’m relieved you can count to five, Johnny,” Simon smirks. “That’s correct. I won’t be joining you. It would hardly be fair since I created the mission, no?”

“Uhm… I guess? But… why design a mission if you’re not going to play it?”

“I didn’t say I’m not going to play it. I said I won’t be joining you. See you in the lobby,” Simon says cheerily before he disconnects from their voice chat. He is going to have his own, after all.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Gaz greets him, his grin audible in his voice. “Ready to kick some ass, Ghost?”

Simon closes his eyes for a moment and feels the corners of his mouth lift in a smile. God, so many memories. And it feels pleasant and warm, this years-old familiarity. They saved each other’s lives many times, shared so many pints, so much banter, and some hurt and misery, too.

“Let’s show them how it’s done,” Simon agrees as he joins the lobby along with Gaz, who has a completely inconspicuous nickname of GhillieMan854. As soon as he sees all six of the players in the lobby, he starts the game.

Ghost didn’t spend the week just tweaking the mission; he was also easing Gaz into the game. Luckily, the Lieutenant was always good at picking up technology-related skills, so it was a fairly quick process. They also discussed the strategy and their roles. Both of them can efficiently work alone, and that is what they’re going to do. Lure the unit in, let them think they have everything under control.

Just a few minutes after the start of the mission, it starts to rain. Just as planned. It’s not just any rain, too. A downpour bad enough to lower visibility to shit. Ghost slips out of the base and disappears into the jungle just behind the walls. Kyle might have a “Ghillie” in his nickname, but it’s Ghost who’s wearing a ghillie suit. As he takes the position on a small hill hidden in the forest but with good visibility of the base despite the weather, he becomes pretty much invisible. Thermal vision would be the only way someone could spot him; too bad it’s raining hard enough to render thermal useless.

Now he waits. Just like Gaz waits, hidden somewhere inside the base, silent and deadly. They have the comms, but it would be stupid to talk shit now. They need to listen closely.

For the next thirty minutes, nothing happens. Ghost is sure the unit is scoping the area and studying the guards' routes, who are not too keen to stay in the rain. The rain, that is gradually losing intensity until it morphs into a mere drizzle. Ghost remembers how miserable he’d been years ago, alone in the Bolivian jungle. Drenched to the bone, cold and tired. That’s the undeniable magic of video games; you can do whatever you want while sitting in the comfort of your home. That, and you probably won’t die playing them.

Ghost looks through the scope, carefully checking all probable points of breach he can see from his position. Then he hears a faint rustle to his left. He freezes. Another rustle. A little bit closer. If they have a thermal on them, he’s fucked. If not… Simon smiles but stays completely still.

Soon enough, one man enters his field of view. It’s hard to say who it is, but Ghost is more concerned about the number rather than identity. Did they actually split up instead of creating two teams of two people, like the brief suggested? That would be either very stupid or very clever. They would play Ghost’s expectations, but at the same time, they would be much more vulnerable. It could also be a trap. The bloke in front of Ghost could be bait, with a partner waiting nearby. If Ghost makes a move, he could either take the man down or be killed before he gets to him.

Ghost opts for patience. But he can’t resist taking a screenshot. He loves the feeling of having an advantage. The moment right before he seizes the opportunity, knowing with absolute certainty he’s going to prevail. This is what he feels now. Yet he’s careful. It wouldn’t be the first time somebody turned the tables on him. The man moves forward, looking cautiously around him. He can’t hope to see Ghost. Not a chance.

However, Ghost is now reasonably sure he’s alone. Good. Painfully slowly, he lowers his head to the scope. Slower still, he turns the silenced, foliage-covered rifle a little bit to the left. Strictly speaking, he could do that shot without the scope; the bloke is close enough. Better not risk anything, though.

Ghost caresses the trigger, taking a breath, holding it.

The sound of a silenced shot is lost in the sounds of the jungle: one down, three to go. And Ghost needs to change position.

When Ghost chimes in, Gaz is sitting in the control room, looking at the monitors with camera feeds. “Got one. Seems they split up.”

“Bold,” Gaz grins, fully aware that Ghost and he are doing exactly the same thing. Three highly trained operatives? Could be anywhere. Gaz takes his SMG and goes on a patrol. It would actually be hilarious if they mistook him for an AI. Gaz wishes they would. He would’ve given them so much hell.

The guards are on the same team as he and Ghost, so they ignore him, and Gaz does his best to imitate the lifeless guards. The rain has let up, but the dusk has fallen. Strong lights come to aid, illuminating the base with white light.

Gaz is vigilant but not overly so. That could tip them off. He makes a round and starts back to the main building where the hostages are held. He sees one of the guards on the right stop. The AI-controlled body hesitates before the programming commands him to investigate whatever seems suspicious. Gaz also remembers his plan and stops, pausing and following the guard. Could be nothing.

Unless… there! A movement behind a tent. Time to play. Gaz drops lower and slowly makes his way around, SMG poised to shoot anything that sticks its head out.

He seems to be in luck. As he rounds the corner of the tent, sure enough, there’s a soldier there. With his back turned to Gaz. What a treat. Now, Kyle could make it fast and painless, but that would also mean loud since he doesn’t have a silencer on his weapon – that would set him apart from the bots. So, instead, he whips out a knife and presses the key for the slowest, quietest movement possible. He’s barely breathing, staring at the display, clutching the mouse way too tight as he crosses those last feet.

The bloke turns in the last second. Kyle can see the jolt of surprise in the movement, but this is a very skilled operator he’s dealing with. The rifle comes up, Gaz immediately dives forward. The knife finds the target, slashing the leg. A burst of gunfire misses Gaz narrowly. He won’t be so lucky next time. Switching back to the SMG, he doesn’t even have time to aim; he just pulls the trigger, sprays and prays.

The soldier staggers and tries to disengage. Gaz is not going to allow that. Rolling on his back, he aims upside down, and another salvo hits. The man is done for. A second later, a bunch of bot-guards show up. “Thanks for the help,” Kyle mutters, then informs Ghost. “Got one, too.”

“Good, they’ve managed to take out the lights by the back entrance, probably some of the bots, too. Might be close to the hostages now.”

“You going to greet them on their way out?”

“Already in position. I think that was their strategy: distract us and grab the prize.”

“Could be. Risky as hell, they lost two teammates, but if they were fast enough, might just work.”

“We will see,” Ghost muses, and he sounds like he’s really having fun. It’s nice to hear.

As a matter of fact, Soap and Alejandro are close to the hostages. So much so that they’re already leading them to the small hole in the perimeter wall. Ghost has placed several because this is supposed to be a bit of a run-down place in the middle of nowhere, not a high-tech prison.

Alejandro is taking the point as Soap ushers the package to walk faster and be quiet. They haven’t heard from Rudy or Roach, meaning they probably didn’t make it. It sucks, but it’s just a game, and they agreed that they will win this, no matter the cost. Who dares wins.

Soap is promptly reminded they’re far from safe as a bullet ricochets from the wall nearby. Sniper. Fuck! “Sniper!” he hisses into the comms, laying on the ground and taking the hostages with him.

“Where?”

“East, bearing one-ten-ish,” Soap makes an approximation.

“Okay, I’ll cover you; get to the jungle; we will lose them there. On my mark,” Alejandro hides behind a rock. “Now!” he gets up and fires somewhat blind in the direction Soap told him.

The Sergeant gets up, orders the hostages to do the same, and runs to the tree line. It’s not far, thank god for that.

“Fuck!” Ghost curses as he misses the soldier’s head. Stupid mistake. He prepares to change position the moment the second soldier opens fire in his direction. Ghost ducks, but a lucky bullet still finds him. It’s not fatal, but it’ll definitely hinder his movement. “Bloody hell… Gaz, get to the eastern wall. I’m hit, but we can still get them.”

“Rog,” Gaz confirms, easily slipping back to Ghost being in command. It’s how they served for many years, after all. Yet he knows who he can get away with. “Hold on for me, old man.”

Gaz arrives some two minutes later and patches Ghost up. Good thing he equipped the first-aid kit. “So, how do you want to play this?”

“Good old manhunt,” Simon smiles, shouldering the rifle.

“I’m up for that,” Gaz agrees. “Think they’ve changed the LZ?”

“No, the jungle is too dense elsewhere. Let’s go.”

Soap and Alejandro trudge through the jungle. It would be much less of an issue if the bloody civilians could keep up. Damn Ghost and his attention to detail. The escape was exciting, Soap would even go as far as to say it really rattled him a little.

But now they just make their way through an endless sea of green. Well, it’s mostly black now since night has fallen. Luckily, they brought night vision. The jungle in the eerie greenish-white and black tones is almost ethereal. But they can’t stop. It’s still quite a long way to the extraction point and Soap seriously doubts that Ghost and his friend are going to let them win just like that.

Ghost’s friend. Hm. Soap finds himself thinking about the unknown variable. Well, he assumes it’s Ghost’s friend, but it could be anybody, really—even some random bloke. No, no way, Ghost wouldn’t invite a random to a custom-made game with his friends. Who the hell is it? Someone from Ghost’s past? A fellow retired soldier? If he has someone like that, why did he never mention them?

“Soap? Focus, hermano, you’re thinking too loud,” Alejandro chides him, and deservedly so.

“Aye, sorry,” Soap answers sheepishly.

Ghost and Gaz track their prey like professional hunters. They, too, have night vision on them. And they know the terrain better. They are quiet, brushing through the undergrowth, guns in their hands. Their great advantage is that they can move quickly and silently. The civilians the other group is dragging along are bound to make some noise.

And they do. Footsteps are easily discernable in the background noise of the jungle. Ghost signals to Gaz to stop. They listen, gauging distance and precise location. Ghost makes a decision, gesturing to Gaz to go around. They will flank the group.

Alejandro stops and looks around.

“What is it?” Soap asks, looking around as well. He can’t see anything. Anything but trees and undergrowth.

“Not sure,” Alejandro says. Then there’s a burst of bullets from SMG, tearing through the night like a disembodied terror. “Mierda!” Alejandro cries out as he’s hit.

Soap turns immediately, finger on the trigger. At the same moment, someone tackles him on the ground. The last thing he sees is a swirling mass of foliage very loosely resembly a man and then a glint of a knife.

Alejandro tries to stand but is immediately mowed down by the SMG.

That’s a game over for the rescuers.

Have a little bonus of totally-not-Soap from Wildlands :)

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141! (Part 1)

Let's get this out of the way, the restaurant fucking sucks. Don't even know how it's still open. The food is terrible. The owner is an incompetent drunk who's never there. You got referred to the job from a friend of a friend. You did an interview with the head chef/manager, John. He hired you because you were hot.

"The fuckin ass on that one, huh?"

Just like any man that works in a restaurant, they're all horny fucks who love to tease you. You'd run back to the kitchen and ask to tweak an order. Price would wink and say:

"Next time it's gonna cost ya."

When it gets slow (which was all the time), you'd sit in the back and chat about how they met and what they did with their lives. They all get paid under the table for various reasons. Johnny takes smoke breaks with you, sometimes Price joins. Gaz pours shots for everyone after "busy" nights (busy meaning there was an hour where there were two tables to serve instead of one). Ghost... well he's strictly work. Sometimes he engages in banter with the guys, but he only acknowledges you when needed.

Your first month flies by, you basically get paid to sit around and talk with the most charming men on the planet, and Simon.

"He'll warm up eventually. Just gotta loosen 'em up, just like any tight ass."

Soap smirked as he leaned against a counter while everyone was wrapping up for the night.

"Don't you have dishes to put away?"

Ghost snapped while wiping down his station. At least he was nice to look at.

You and Gaz would roll up the forks and knives talking about bullshit, knees touching. Soap and you would light each others smokes by touching one lit end to the unlit one, all while still holding the cigarettes in your mouths (he called it a cigarette kiss). Price would constantly make food for you:

"Gotta plump you up 'fore it starts getting cold, yeah?"

He'd look you up and down while sliding you a basket of fries. And Simon? Cold as ever. Even when he started driving you to and from work because your car broke down. He drove like a madman, but it was totally silent. You made the mistake of reaching for the radio once, he gave a admonitory grunt and you snatched your hand away.

As time went on, you got comfortable with everyone and they got comfortable with you. It started with suggestive jokes.

"Simon's just straightforward, doesn't beat around the bush."

Price said one day while prepping vegetables with Ghost.

"What are you talking about? He beats around the bush all the time Price, you know that."

Soap walked by with a shit eating grin while he was carrying a bucket of dishes to the back. Uproar from the guys. Ghost storms off following Johnny, knife in hand. You want to stop him, but Gaz places a hand on your shoulder.

"Best not to do that, just let 'em settle that amongst themselves."

Johnny comes back disheveled, wearing a different shirt. Simon is stone faced as usual as he goes back to prep. It only got worse after that.

You'd watch as the boys messed with each other more; pats on the back, that turns to squeezes on the shoulders, that turned to slaps on the ass.

"They're just handsy," you think to yourself.

Eye contact that lingers for a second too long.

"They're just close friends," you think to yourself.

Compliments that boarder on harassment.

"They're just joking around," you think to yourself.

Then you entered the walk-in freezer, only to make direct eye contact with Johnny as he has Kyle's dick down his throat.

"Oh, uh-huh..." you think to yourself.

You didn't look at their faces for a week, they acted as if nothing happened. Then, the flirting only got worse.

"Behind!"

Price would yell while grinding up against Simon's ass when passing behind him.

"Yes, Chef."

He'd respond while he continued cooking, unfazed. They seemingly shared clothes: the younger guys preferred to don John and Simon's apparel all the time. You stopped going into the walk-in for a while, you figured you'd give Gaz and Soap some privacy (although they didn't seem to mind an audience). Christ, was everyone fucking everyone here?

You were taking a smoke break with Price when he leaned back on the railing and adjusted himself, it wasn't really adjusting himself as it was more him gripping his thick dick and looking directly into your eyes. You nearly choked as he smiled.

Ghost threw you a hoodie when he dropped you off one night. It started raining before you got home and you were complaining about just getting your hair done. You tried to give it back but he refused to take it.

"Keep it. I don't care about that one anyways."

He shrugged. You'd wear the oversized hoodie to bed, the smell was comforting. Smoky, dusty, boozy, like Javanese vetiver. It smelled like a grown man. Delicious. Accidentally wore it to work one day when you were in a rush getting ready. That started a trend for the rest of them to get you to wear their clothes. It less of a trend and more of a competition honestly. They'd "accidentally" spill drinks or food on you.

"No worries, I've got an extra shirt in my car!"

They'd have a wide, cheeky smile plastered on their faces while giving you their shirt. Of course, they wouldn't take them back either; so you had a growing collection of huge shirts that you'd wear around your apartment. Eventually, you had to go back to the walk-in. Thankfully, there were no exhibitionists present. You were reaching to grab some ketchup when the door opened. You and Johnny stared at each other for a long moment.

"Need help getting that, bonnie?"

Before you could respond he was reaching over you, pressing his chest on your back. He handed you the bottle while his dick grew hard on your ass. He was breathing hard in your ear, waiting for your reaction. You pushed back on him and that's all he needed, he gripped your hips and grinded into you. Even through your jeans you could feel his dick twitch when you moaned. It was a hot minute of panting while he pulled you back onto him desperately, like he was trying to fuck you right through the denim. The door handle clicked. You both froze, staring at the entryway.

"Johnny?"

Gaz's head popped in. Your face got hot while he stared back and forth at the two of you. One thing led to another, and your pants are around your ankles while Johnny is face first in your wet folds. Kyle is standing behind you, fucking your thighs and leaving sloppy kisses on your neck.

"Pretty doll, how long have ye bin waiting fur this, huh?"

Soap looked up at you with so much adoration, like he was servicing a goddess.

"Gonna cum Johnn-"

Gaz whimpered and bit your shoulder to muffle his groans as he came right between your thighs and cunt. Soap cleaned up the mess greedily, savouring the taste of both your juices. He didn't stop eating you out until you finished. Gaz held you up while your knees buckled when you came undone. Gentlemen they are, pulled up your pants for you and wiped the smeared lipgloss from your face. You stumbled out of the freezer, walking past the kitchen. Price's eyes crinkled as he saw you head out onto the floor.

~

"You shouldn't do that in there. It's unsanitary. And a health code violation."

Simon looked straight ahead as he weaved between cars. You opened your mouth, but no words came to mind, so you just nodded. Your leg bounced nervously. He grabbed your thigh, stopping the movement. His hand stayed there until you were in front of your place. You stared at him, his brown eyes boring into you.

"G'night."

He pulled his hand away, placing both of them on the steering wheel. You walked into your apartment, dizzy with confusion. "What the fuck is going on?"

[bunnys-kisses]

house sitter au

while they serve their country, you serve them! *salute*

task force 141 are good at what they do. their ranks and medals are impressive, but it's hard coming home. home for them for a long time was a mediocre flat in central london that was vacant most of the year. it didn't help with the loneliness and disconnect the men felt after time abroad.

that's where you came in. an impressive resume and a bit of confidence that if you could handle toddlers, then you could handle four grown men!

when they were home, you helped clean and made meals. when they were away, you got free reign of the entire house. it didn't help that the paycheck every month was impressive.

the one thing they didn't tell you about the job was the lingering gazes of the men who you lived with. they never did anything, they wouldn't do anything without your consent. but when you were in the garden pulling out weeds (when was the last time the lawn was taken care of) you saw price by the doorway with a cup of tea in hand, watching you grumble to yourself. then when you were cooking lunch for yourself, you felt the hot gaze of johnny against your backside as you reached to the top shelf to grab some salt (who put this so high?). then it was simon's eyes on your lips as you enjoyed some ice cream after a long day dusting (how were these guys not sneezing from all the dust!). finally it was gaz who made a comment about how you looked nice when you were scrubbing the floors. he laughed it off as a joke, but the way he looked at you was a little more heated.

four pairs of eyes lingered on every part of your body, even the parts that you were insecure about. to end up in bed with them wasn't hard. it first started with the captain, then you made your way through the ranks.

price was burly and strong, he had you pinned under him on his large bed. his hands on your hips as he buried his cock into you. your ass in the air but your upper half was flat against the mattress, price soon interwove his fingers with yours as he thrusted into your sweet cunt. you realized soon after that he really liked when you called him captain. or better yet, daddy. you didn't know that you reeked of daddy issues, but price could smell it from a mile away. but don't worry, daddy's got ya. when he was finished fucking you, he'd play with your overstimulated clit while he smoked. he made sure to exhale away from you. he was the first however to punish you when you were being a 'bad' girl. sometimes it was shining his boots, other times you were the one getting his boots dirty. (hope you like rough laces against your soaked clit!)

johnny was a wild card. he liked to bite. and it wasn't like his teeth were too blunt to cause any damage. after the first time you were with him, you made him go to the drug store to buy you concealer to cover the jackson pollock-esque hickeys on your neck! he offered to buy you a collar to wear inside and you narrowed your eyes at him. "if anyone here needs a collar it's you, mactavish." but he could also be so sweet. while he liked it fast and rough, he always made sure his number one girl got to finish as well. usually before him. his kisses were sloppy, he was like a dog sometimes. his favourite place to fuck you however was in the yard outside. he usually have to shove his thick fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. no one needed to know just how NEEDY you were for his cock. the number of times the other men caught him just pounding your sweet cock, using that strength of his to his advantage was something else. and of course, when they caught you, they hung around. three other men watching you face down in the grass with johnny having you by the hips. his praise his filthy, almost degrading. you were his special girl, but you were also a massive whore. but don't worry, bonnie, johnny will happily fuck any hole you have open.

simon was difficult. he only found out that your legs were open for business after he heard you and johnny going at it. the sound of the bed creaking and the scottsman's filthy tongue. but unlike johnny, simon was a little too big for you. while your sexual encounters started with oral and fingering. he managed to get just the tip in. but it wasn't enough, he eventually sank every last inch. the feeling took the wind out of you and you couldn't sit right for days after. his pace was slow, methodical. he watched you with a keen eye. the rise and fall of your chest, the noises you made. he knew he was selfish for taking so much of you, but you were unlike anyone else. after that, he started to take his mask off more. if you saw (and felt) his cock, you might as well see what was under the mask. cue a lot of worship from you, kissing at his heavily scarred body. he'd just hold you in his arms while you were in his lap.

kyle was the sweetest which compared to the other hulking men you were living with. it wasn't a hard bar to clear. all of them complimented you, but kyle was the one who'd bring you flowers when he returned from a mission. he mostly liked to keep his intimate time with you in his bedroom. his favourite position was to take you on your side. him spooning you as he thrusted his cock into your tight pussy. his nose in your hair as he moved against you. he knew the other men were taking your pussy for a joy ride, so he wanted to make love to you. flowers, candles, sweet nothings. the only problem was, instead him wanting to jump your bones. you wanted to jump HIS bones. you got loads of body worship from him, lots of praise to. he also liked when you called him by his rank, while not AS impressive as captain or lieutenant, it was still something he was proud of. he'd take you missionary style but a lot of the time, loved having you on top. with the afternoon light bathing your body in golden rays. he rarely left marks or bruises. no one needed to see what you two did in your off time. it was a secret for him and him alone. regardless of how you two fucked, he was the king of after care, letting you rest as he would read to you. either the book he had picked up while away or an article on his phone. he chuckled when he heard you snoring.

but sometimes, it was hard to choose between two of them at a time. so you ended up with both johnny and simon's cock pushed inside of you. your mouth hung open and your mind drawing a blank. but don't worry, they're worshiping your cunt. cooing about how sweet it is that you can take BOTH of them. of course you could! you were made for them. your stomach feels dense after they cum inside you about three times. the feeling of their cum in your gut makes your lethargic and just curl up after they get their fill.

other times its kyle and price. while they aren't pushing your pussy to its absolute limit. it still takes a lot out of you. you were on the floor of price's bedroom, riding the captain while facing kyle who had his cock in your face. as you moved your hips against the older man, your mouth and hand were on the sergeant's cock. you found out that both men liked it when you were covered in their cum, not push it inside of you as deep as they could.

when those who hired you asked how the job was going after a few months. you meekly asked what the health insurance policy was and did it cover birth control *hides face*

(you'd find out within a year that no amount of pills, iuds, rings or implants could stop one of those boys from giving you a baby)

<3

[tame-the-lion-writes]

cat shifter reader x task force 141

(An AU to the AU--based on an ask and the results of this poll.)

No more guns a-blazing or cruel glory. The 141 had their time in the military; now, it was time to slow down.

Of course, when one sticks with the same people for half their life, through thick and thin, there is no going back. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb--and the 141 had spilled enough blood together that it practically ran through each others veins. They were inseparable, bound in both trauma and trust, and to part would dissolve the only stability they'd shared. Snip away red strings wrought both in shared drinks and on the battlefield.

What they didn't expect was the addition of you.

In deciding to retire, the 141 bought an old farm in the backcountry. A weary, rickety place that was practically begging for renovations. The busy work gave them something to do with already-rough hands, so they didn't mind--taking care of the animals, replacing the rotting wood, and updating the plumbing simply meant they could make the place their own. And after the house was fixed up, they got to updating the barn, fixing up a chicken coop, installing new fencing, etc.

It was also during these renovations that they got to know the stray cat who'd been living in the barn attic.

Feral--they first thought. Plenty of farm cats were, and the place had been long unlived-in that they believed no one could have socialized or cared for her. Not to mention that she'd been so riled up with them around; hissing from behind walls, or above while balancing on the beams. Jutting her paws out and trying to scratch them while they worked. They always knew where she was by the jingle of the bell around her neck, tied with a soft silk ribbon as though she were someone's pet let loose. Left on the roadside maybe, and for that, they didn't blame her.

But for the most part, she only occupied the second floor of the barn, and she kept the place free of rats and mice. They couldn't have those running around, so for the most part, they stayed out of her way. And she learned to stay out of theirs.

Until she got sick.

"Haven't seen the kit in a while," Gaz finally spoke, poking at the leftover stew in his bowl. It was already dinner when everyone was winding down for the night, and their beloved foe had been missing for three days. "I'm getting worried."

"I'm sure she's fine," Soap reassured him, shoveling another spoonful in his mouth. "Maybe ran off to the woods or somethin'."

"But it's been rainin' plenty lately," Gaz pressed. "You'd think she'd hole up in the attic per usual."

"We can check in the morning," Price sighed, adjusting himself in his seat. "'Sides, wouldn't do any good to be missin' a barn cat--"

"Tonight."

Soap lifts his head to squint over at the man by the sink. "Didn't take ya for a cat person, LT."

"Wanna make sure the mangy thing ain't dead." Ghost drops his dishes with an ceremonial clink-clink-clink. "Would stink up the place."

But when they finally made their way up the sketchy ladder to the barn attic, and they finally pushed aside all the dusty boxes and rusty equipment, what they found wasn't a cat but a young woman--face red with fever and tangled deeply, restlessly, in worn blankets and stolen clothes. Unknown and without ID--save for the bell around her neck, tied with a soft silk ribbon.

_

Bonus Thoughts:

It's quickly determined that you're only suffering from a regular cold, but on the verge of winter, the barn is no place to stay warm. Hence a quiet moment of deliberation between the boys, standing around, not knowing what to do. Also not knowing if their first assumption--that this is their fussy barn cat--is possible. In any case, they can't just leave you here.

Ghost is relegated the duty of carrying you down the very sketchy ladder (as he is with carrying most things). But not before Price wraps you up like a burrito, in case you wake up and decide to try and scratch again.

"'Mangy thing,' huh, LT?"

"Hope you know she's gettin' your bed."

[diejager]

👉👈 imagine reader as a cow living in a nice farmer but because they doesn’t produce any milk than other cow, the owner was worry so they brought lot of Bulls (task 141, kortac) to chose as mate but all of them wanted the cow.

Credit to @frogchiro and @nymphany for this!

Pasture Cw: hybrid, mention of breeding, milking (milk and cum), SLIGHT DUB-CON, SLIGHT DARKFIC, tell me if I missed any.

Price, the gentle, bear-looking farmer, had initially planned to have you milked, his high-end and pedigree from an ancestry of HoJos spanning many generations that he bought for a high price, soft and plump in just the right areas. He heard from Kate that she and her wife had bought a couple of HoJos, making quite the profit on their milk, fatty and thick, but silky on the tongue. He wanted to have such luxury in his arsenal, a cute, little heifer that he’d milk for the sake of tasting and drinking it to fill his stomach with warmth until he decided to sell a few bottles.

He wasn’t in any need for money, he had enough to last the rest of his life without lifting a finger, but he liked keeping busy, work and routine beaten into his body from the military. He already had a business with the amount of bulls he bought, broad and sturdy, powerful hybrids that he could milk for their potent semen and labour. Most were obedient despite a bull’s temperament, listening to his orders like his subordinates would, following them to a T without a complain. But there was always that one who acted out, either from sheer cheekiness or mischief, he would reprimand them, punish them if it went too far.

He thought he’d experiment with you, his new little obsession he would coddle and pamper with a house of your own and an open stall. You were so well behaved that he could leave the house open to let you graze and sunbathe under the warm sun when you weren’t busy with him training you with various aspect of your new life as his prized possession. You were everything he could’ve ever wanted, obedient, gentle, soft-spoken and eager to please him, letting him suckle on your swollen and heavy tits, your ears flickering back and forth and tail wrapped around his thigh.

His only issue was that you had problems producing milk. You would produce trickles of it some days and a gush of milk the other, it was a disorderly affair that he sought to fix if he wanted to create a stable trade with you alone. When he brought the issue up with Kate, she told him that cows usually produced more milk after birthing, breasts heavy with milk and aching to be milked of it’s produce, thick and rich tasting to raise a little calf that he would soon sell than let them take your attention away.

“Introduce her to the bulls, they might help,” were the mind blowing words that Kate’s wife gave him, the cementing proposition that had him make his mind on the next step.

He introduced you to his bulls, bringing them outside of their stalls and letting them roam the fenced pasture beside yours, watching you lay under the sun and ears flick away a buzzing bug. They’ve seen other hybrids before, women especially, but have never shown any interest in of them. He feared he’d have to introduce you to another farmer’s hybrid (Price wanted to take thing into his own hands, but he didn’t know how you’d take it to his advances) if you didn’t catch their attention, bringing in a stranger to breed you.

Fortunately, they were quick to scent you out, seemingly riled up and pumping out more seed since he bought you, restlessly wandering in circles in their stalls to sate the need to get to you as fast as they could. Their eyes gleaming with arousal and nostrils flared to sniff you out, stalking to the edge of their pen, the metal unflinching to their harsh grip on the fence. They looked starved - possessed - with how eager they were to cross the barrier, hollering at you and trying to coax you towards their side of Price’s land.

Soap and König looked the most out of it, slumped over with deluded perversion of need and hunger, arms reaching for your seated figure, staring at the group of bulls with wide eyes. Nikto wasn’t any better, both he, Krueger and Ghost glaring down at you with vicious and burning eyes, lost in their minds of dark desires and corrupted dreams. Gaz and Horangi were softer, more hesitant to spook you, but they were as restless as the rest of their housemates. You were none the wiser, gazing at them with your pretty, doe eyes, meeting their eyes with innocent and a cute smile, always ready to please others.

Perhaps he should’ve acquainted you all before.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

cw: menstruation (not graphic), afab anatomy

Part 4: “Girl Problems”

You shift in the office chair, stomach lurching uncomfortably. It’s been bothering you today - groaning and moaning nonstop. So far you blamed it on the suspicious chicken salad you got from the discount grocery store. You took every stomach soother you could, all the way down to chugging tea on the hottest day of spring so far.

With a rather pathetic groan you stand to meander your way to the bathroom. Surely sitting on the pot will help - at least as a placebo. Just as you do, though, a very distinct wet feeling makes itself known. You freeze, briefly, as if it will go away if you stand still enough.

“Ah, fuck!” You gasp, grabbing your purse and jogging down the hall to the single bath stall and popping the lock shut.

As soon as you sit, you let out a small sigh of relief. At least you caught it before you turned your underwear into a total crime scene. You’d rather not have to explain to John why you need to go home and change. You dig through your bag to your usual pocket of various supplies. From lotion to a sewing kit. It never hurts to be prepared.

Except, as you rifle around, you’re not finding your usual stash. There should be at least three in here… when did-?

The very loud, distinct memory of a girl at a bar stopping you while canvassing for some sanitary products hits you like a train.

“Whatever you’ve got I’ll take.” She practically begged. So, you handed them all over because got forbid someone get stranded during the most hellish week of the month. Like you are now.

You make a deep, frustrated noise in your throat and bury your face in your hands. You’ve been meaning to put a basket of backup wipes, pads, and tampons in the little bathroom cabinet - not just for you but for customers, too. It just kept getting pushed off when you got busy with other things.

Shit. What are you gonna do? If you put your pants back on you’ll just bleed through them in ten minutes. Cursed with a heavy flow (or blessed with a strong connection to the moon, as your former hippie roommate insisted.) Less time than that, probably, based on the vicious cramp that travels from your lower back to pelvis. You won’t be able to get to the corner store with out leaving a war crime in your path.

John’s the only person in the studio right now. He doesn’t have a client for another hour or so but you’d rather die than tell your hot boss you’re bleeding everywhere. For a few, quiet moments, you violently bounce your knee and go through every possibility. Maybe you’ll suddenly turn into the flash and you can get home before anyone even notices. You don’t really have much of a choice, do you?

With another groan you pull your phone from your pocket, thumb hovering over his contact for just a few beats too long while you work up the courage.

>> ok so this is terrible

>> im so sorry

>> but im having girl problems and am stuck in the bathroom

>> im so sorry this is so unprofessional

Girl problems? What are you? In fucking middle school? Before you can send yet another in a long string of planned apologies, John answers.

J >> How can I help?

>> i dont have any products on me

>> meant to stock the bathroom

>> sorry

J >> Stop apologizing

J >> What kind do you use? I’ll go to the corner store up the street

You breathe out a sigh of relief, still nervously gnawing at your lip as you send him what you need with an example picture (just in case) and profusely insist you’ll pay him back. John refuses. You’ll just have to sneak the cash in his tips or something.

It isn’t long before you hear the front doorbell ring, heavy footsteps, then a gentle tap on the bathroom door. “Y’alright, love?”

You perk up. “John, I’m so sorry-“

“Didn’t ask if you were sorry. Asked if you were alright.”

You snort. “Yeah…”

“I’m goin’ to unlock the door to slide these in. No lookin’ I swear.” John says. As if you were worried about that. You trust John. More than maybe any other man you’ve known (not that the bar is very high.) It’s nice of him to say, though. The door barely cracks open, just enough for him to toss the box to you across the floor and shut it immediately. You barely even see his arm. “That all you need?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” You murmur, bending awkwardly and snatching up the box. “I’m really sorry. I know it’s not really… appropriate.”

“Love, it’s normal. It happens. Just get y’self situated.” John taps the door once before you hear his footsteps drift down the hall toward the front.

You feel a bit skittish the rest of the day. You know it’s stupid. John’s a grown man and it’s a natural thing that happens and it’s fine. He said it’s fine. If it wasn’t fine you probably wouldn’t still look up to him the way that you do - the way that you have since you came here. The way everyone else seems to. Even so, you step around him a little wider than usual on your way out - keeping your head hung low and both hands tightly gripping your purse.

You chew your lip, shifting in place as he locks the front door. “Look, John, I-“

“If you apologize again I’m gonna fire you.” John mutters, pulling on the door to make sure it’s properly secured. There’s humor in it, though, the corners of his lips quirked up slightly.

You scoff, still not quite able to meet his eye.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” When you don’t move fast enough, apparently, he tilts your head up with a light touch. His eyes are so warm despite their icy blue shade. Sparkly in the setting sun. “Any man worth his breath wouldn’t give a shite. I’m sorry if that hasn’t been your experience, but really, it’s fine. I’ll help you out a thousand times over if y’need.”

“Okay…” You murmur, suddenly very distracted by the feeling of his fingers touching your chin, light as is it. You pull away and clear your throat, hoping he doesn’t notice the growing heat in your cheeks. “Well, uh, see you tomorrow, then.”

John nods, still smiling. “Sleep well, dove.”

When you come in the next day, you expect to get teased. A snide comment or a sideways look. You would have at any other job you’d worked - especially one with all men. All giggling and poking at you like a bear they know can’t bite back. No one says a thing outside of their usual greetings when you make your way to the front desk, though. Johnny pinches your hip like normal, Simon greets you with his new pun of the day, Kyle gives you a distracted wave over the hum of his practice gun. John doesn’t bat an eye when he says hello and checks in about the plan for the day.

You open the bottom drawer that you usually tuck your purse into, pausing before you set it inside. At the bottom, neatly tied together with a piece of twine, sits a king size chocolate bar and a pack of Midol.

If John notices the way you become extra smiley after that discovery, he doesn’t comment.

A/N: This was very self-indulgent but I’m having a bad time over here and need to be saved.

[canyonmooncreations]

Simon Shares

Simon x reader, TF 141 x Reader

Summary: The team gathers at Simon’s house where his perfect girl hosts them. It’s a typical gathering, until it’s not (reader takes them all)

Authors note: I haven’t written a full piece in so long! I hope you don’t hate it 😭 just horny thoughts 😭

Warnings: reader is a needy slut, takes them all, p in v, spanking, overstimulation, and I think that’s it?

You and Simon have been together for quite a while. Engaged actually. That being said, you’ve meet his team several times and have grown to like them and they have grown to love you plenty. You’ve hosted them for cookouts, watching the ball games, and sometimes just for cards and beer.

When the boys are over, you’re always sitting on Simon’s lap or close enough for him to have a hand on your thigh or around your hip.

You’re comfortable around them. They don’t mind that you join them. Simon doesn’t mind the way their eyes rake over your body when you’re serving them food. He doesn’t mind the comments they make after you’ve walked away. To be truthful, he doesn’t mind the idea of sharing his pretty little thing with them.

Usually the night ends long after you’ve gone to bed. Waking up to Simon crawling into bed and wrapping you in his arms. Tonight was different

The boys were coming over for a cookout and cards, typical. When you were on your grocery run you decided to not only buy their beer but also some fruity little drinks for yourself. Simon didn’t mind when you put them in the cart, only replying with a hum. He knew this could end with trouble but wanted to see how it played out. He knew alcohol made you horny and needy. He knew bratty you got when you didn’t get your way. But maybe this was his opening…

The night began like any other. The boys arrived and found their seats on the patio. You served them dinner. They made their remarks as you walked back in the house. Simon smirked as he noticed the extra sway of your hips as the alcohol gave you some extra confidence.

After dinner, you found your spot on Simon’s lap. He could tell you’ve almost reached your limit. He noticed the way wiggled in his lap. He noticed the pout on your lips when his hands stopped your movement. John was the first to notice. He noticed your little show and saw the pout of your lips. John flashed a smirk at Simon and was met with one back.

The boys continued to play their cards and you continued to get needier. Johnny could help but notice the way your nipples perk through your little tank top. Nudging Kyle to look too.

You were oblivious to the three men staring at you and chuckling at your neediness. All you wanted was Simon’s attention and he was too busy playing cards.

You eventually realized you weren’t going to get what you wanted and decided on just pouting. Arms crossed, pouty lips, and your back to Simon’s chest. You could feel the occasional chuckle but refused to acknowledge him.

“Baby, w’don’t ya go grab us some more beer?” Usually this was met with a kiss to the lips and you finding your way inside. Today, however, he was met with nothing.

John chimed in. “Yeah sweetheart, could use another cold one.” He flashed you a smile. Nothing. You refused to acknowledge any of them.

“I think someone is pouting”. You didn’t miss the mocking tone in Kyle’s voice.

“Am not!!” You all but yelled at him. Voice laced with attitude.

All the eyebrows were raised. You hadn’t ever dared to act like this around them. Them only ever seeing your sweetness.

Simon didn’t hesitate to pick you up and carry you inside. He sat you down on the kitchen counter and let his hands fall to either side of you. He wanted to give you a chance to fix it.

“What’s the problem? Hmm?”

You could feel the tears welling in your eyes. “Just need you!” Your pouty lip returned. Simon chuckled. “It’s not funny”, you say as you attempt to push him away.

“I know, baby, I know. I’ll give you all the attention you need later. But for now, I need you to be a good girl. Can you do that? Can you be patient?”

He didn’t miss your eye roll or the way you squirmed at being called a good girl. Nonetheless, you nodded and wiped your tears. Simon moved away to grab some beers from the fridge.

“Now when we get back out there, you’re going to apologize for your attitude and just sit patiently. Be a good girl, hm?”

“Yes, Si…” Simon helped you off the counter and guided you back to the patio.

“Oh thank you for the drink darling” Johns voice dropping with amusement as they could all see your tear stained eyes and pouty lip still present.

“Yah, such a sweet girl” Johnny replied.

Simon was still standing behind you as you finished passing out the drinks. He landed a gentle (for Simon) smack on your ass as a little nudge to get started with your apology. He didn’t miss the way Kyle and Johnny were readjusting in their seats

“‘m sorry for having an attitude…” your sentence was punctuated with a sigh as you sat down onto Simon’s lap again. The boys chuckled and began their card game once again. Simon readjusted you to where you were straddling one of his legs. Playing it off as he needed better access to the table.

Your neediness had subsided for only a few minutes before your hips began to roll on Simon’s thigh. Kyle and Johnny’s eyes widened at the sight. John only smirked.

As John was passing out the cards for the new round, Simon cleared his throat.

“The winner of this round can take care of this needy slut I have here. Can’t help but be needy. Isn’t that right?”

You suddenly got shy, sinking back into Simon.

“Oh come on baby, just so needy. It’s okay, we’ll get somebody to take care of you”

A whine escapes your lips as Simon ignores you in his lap. The game carries on with every man playing and praying for a chance at the pretty little thing in Simon’s lap. The round ends as Simon places down his last card.

“Come on, that’s not fair!” Kyle exclaims. Frustrated and bulging in his pants.

“Rules are rules” John replies as he eyes Simon.

“Your lucky day” Simon readjust you and begins to unzip his pants. Your panties are soaked at this point. Pussy dripping with desire at the idea of Simon taking you right here in front of them or the idea of one of them taking you. “Take em off”.

You get a little shy as your realize Simon is really going to take you right here. In front of all of them. “Come on baby, show em what they missed out on.”

You slowly take them off and Simon lowers you down onto his lap. The boys are drooling at this point. Palming themselves through their pants at the sight of Simon’s giant cock sliding into your soaking little pussy. Simon lets you ride him for just a little until he can tell you’re close to cumming. He hands still your hips and a whimper leaves your mouth.

“That’s enough baby. Gonna let someone else feel you. Whoever is lucky enough to win this round”

The round goes on for what feels like hours. Simon still hard inside you with his hands finding your hips anytime you try to move. He gives you a warning squeeze as he stills your hips once more.

You can’t help it. You’re just so so needy. You find your hips moving once again in search of any release. What you didn’t expect was Simon’s hand coming down, smacking your pussy.

“That’s enough.” His sentence punctuated with another slap. A moan escapes your lips. The round finally comes to and end as John puts down his last card Simon chuckles as he lifts you off his lap. You’re hesitant. Is this really happening? Is Simon really gonna let someone else fuck you? You question is answered with a smack to your ass. Your legs are wobbly as you make your way over to John. He already has his dick out, hand moving up and down.

“Come here sweetheart.” His hands find your hips as he guides you down onto him. You moan as he moves you up and down. “God Simon, such a perfect little thing you have. Taking me nice and good.” John fucks you nice and slow. Rolling your hips and helping you bounce up and down

All cards are on the table as all men have their hands wrapped around their cocks. All rock hard at the sight of John fucking Simon’s little play thing.

As you chase your high, John’s quickly follows. Your eyes meet Simon’s. His laced with lust and desire. You’re laced with need. Simon stands and makes his way to you, where you still sit with John’s cock inside you.

“There’s my good girl. Why don’t you show Johnny just how good you can be?”

You let him help you off of John’s lap and over to Johnny’s. Simon moves to behind Johnny and removes your top. Leaving you bare and vulnerable. Simon leans against the railing and watches as his teammate fucks you He doesn’t give you much time to rest. Johnny doesn’t take you as soft as John. He’s pounding in and out of your pussy. Tits bouncing in his face. He fucks you hard and fast. You’re quick to come again, Johnny coming with you. Your face falls to his shoulder “where’s that attitude now?” Johnny quips.

The boys chuckle as the pout reruns to your lip. “Oh there it is!” Kyle laughs as Simon guides you over to Kyle.

“Need help? Hm? Need to me help fix that attitude?” Kyle is grinning as Simon helps you onto his lap.

“Yes she does. Help her out Kyle” Simon is leaning back on the railing as the moans escape from your lips. Kyle isn’t gentle or nice. His hands find your nipples as he makes your ride him. More moans escaping as your hands find his wrists. His hands find your hips as he notices your slowing down from being tired. He pounds into you as you once again chase your high as he does too. “Too much” you mutter.

Simon helps your off his lap and bends you over the table. Before you can protest, he’s deep inside you pounding in and out.

“Is this what my needy slut wanted? Did you want me to fuck you here in front of all of them? Did you want them to fuck you? Just so needy.”

You can’t help as the tears fall down your cheeks. It’s just too much. You can’t take anymore.

Almost as if he can read your mind, “come on baby, just one more”. The boys coo at you as Simon takes you from behind. Their hands find your nipples, your ass, roaming your body. Their hands make your body burn from the overstimulation of taking them all.

Simon coaxes one more out of you and comes in you as the other boys cum leaks out. He can’t help but moan at the sight. Pussy dripping with all their cum, hips and ass red from their hands guiding you up and down, and cheeks tear stained from it being all too much.

John returns to the patio with a wet rag, not that you noticed he left. Simon helps your get cleaned up and Kyle helps you get dressed. Johnny brings you a glass of water and fixes your hair out of your face.

Simon picks you up as your wrap your legs and arms around him. He carries you inside and helps you to bed. He leaves you after holding you for a few minutes with a kiss on your forehead

He walks back outside to all the boys with a huge smile on their face. What you don’t realize is that it takes Simon way longer than usual to join you in bed. Too wrapped up in conversation with his boys about how beautiful and perfect you are.

Let’s just say, the gatherings are way more eventful after today. The boys finding more and more reasons to come over. You finding more and more reasons to host them. Simon doesn’t mind and you definitely don’t.

[lxvvie]

A relationship with Ghost would consist of the following (and here's the sequel!):

Being mutually attracted to each other but it's 98012334823 years before you make things official.

Price, Gaz, and Soap essentially going "FINALLY!" and welcoming you to the group with open arms because it's about damn time Ghost found some happiness of his own.

You and Johnny double-teaming Ghost to poke fun at him.

Realizing that Ghost actually has a pretty wicked albeit deadpan sense of humor. You can especially see it with Soap. Can and does encourage Soap to do the thing rather bluntly because he and Gaz have a betting pool going.

Simon being your silent but everpresent protector whenever he's with you. He likes to be in the background observing his surroundings. His eyes never leave your form, though.

Finding out he's quite the handyman. Simon likes keeping his hands busy.

Giggling and/or guffawing whenever he says the word knobhead or taco.

Never failing to become flustered at the way he looks at you. Simon emotes with his eyes more than anything. His gaze is powerful.

Learning to interpret his grunts. They actually vary depending on his mood.

Ghost having to buy boxer briefs (men's boxers are friggin' COMFORTABLE, you hear me?!) and hoodies more than usual because you almost always take his old ones. He doesn't mind as much as you think he does. In fact, he likes it when you wear his clothes. He just won't ever say it. Much. He will, however, show you how much he likes it...

Realizing that for all his size, Simon moves in silence. You've lost count of the number of times he's scared you.

Ghost having no problems entertaining you, especially when it comes to random ass conversations. Some of his responses, especially when said in a deadpan tone, are unintentionally hilarious.

Never failing to be impressed by the way he can multi-task, especially when you're talking to him. You tested it once because you thought he wasn't listening. He was. He repeated the last thing you said to him verbatim. Oh.

(Referencing this post) Ghost knowing he's in hot shit when you call his full name, complete with a middle name that changes every. fucking. time. To date, he is Simon Marie Amadeus Atherton Riley. Soap caught the Marie part and now he has the rest of 141 convinced that's Ghost's middle name.

Ghost learning the importance of self-care. Whenever he's in hot shit, it's almost always because he's pushing himself or won't allow himself the opportunity to rest.

Giving each other space when necessary. Ghost absolutely needs space to decompress when he gets home and afterward, you two are inseparable.

Using each other as human pillows. Whereas Johnny becomes The Soapurrito™, Simon tends to sploot on top of you. Especially when he's dead tired.

Texting him random ass questions and depending on the answer, Simon is yet again in the doghouse.

Talking about potential tattoos he can get. He shot down the idea of getting your name tatted on his lower back because... no.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

TF141 & sexy clothes

Gaz absolutely supports you wearing whatever you feel sexy in. however, in his heart of hearts, he believes the sexiest thing you can wear around him is your pjs, your ratty old tees, your sleep shirts, your big hoodies, your slouchy garbage clothes. he just wants to know you're comfortable. not to mention the idea of you letting him see you the way nobody else gets to... letting yourself be totally vulnerable around him... that lights up a certain (slightly needy) (slightly possessive) part of his brain. interesting how easily his hands can slide past the hem of your clothes when they're bigger and slouchier, too.

Ghost loves lingerie, though. like wrapping a present just for him. it's less about the lace (or the bows, or the straps, or the leather, whatever you prefer) and more about the time and attention you're expending to make yourself look all sexy. all this work? for him? even if his usual compulsion is to act aloof and pretend it's no big deal, he can't hide the greedy way his eyes devour you--for me? don't mind if i do. it's a toss-up whether he decides to unwrap you completely or just push his calloused hands into your lil outfit and muss you up until it's not covering anything anymore. or maybe he'll just leave the wrapping on so he can keep admiring all your hard work while he pumps into you.

Price says he loves you in lingerie, and he does. he doesn't tell you how fucking crazy you drive him when you're dressed for business. that might mean the clothes you wear into the office every day; it might mean fatigues; it might mean a particular uniform; it might be sportswear. he's big into seeing you focused and in your element--your competence is sexy--while also knowing there are so few layers he'd need to peel off before he could have you completely forgetting yourself if he wanted. and hey! if the lace at the top of your thigh-highs happens to be peeking out from under your pencil skirt, or if your ass fills out your uniform just right? that's just fine with him. you do you. (for now. he'll do you later.)

Soap's preferences are simple. he likes access. skirts. dresses. obviously, if he could convince you to be naked 100% of the time, he would. sundresses are pretty, though. so are your studded black skirts if you're gothy. or your sharp, practical, form-fitting pencil skirts if you're professional. you can even wear a kilt if you'd like. his kilt. he doesn't mind. (he only asks that you wear it as it's meant to be worn--without a thing underneath.) on days you do wear a dress or skirt, you're lucky to make it out of the house without him darting after you, pulling the hem up your thighs, and wondering aloud how you managed to find any undergarments at all; he'd swear he hid every last pair. he peels your underwear off--don't protest, hen; you know how this works--and after that, your chances of getting out the door are slim to none.

...

more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[callmecoke]

Thinking of the first time the 141 discover you on a website for Sugar Babies (P3)

cw: sexual content, reader sending nudes, mention of sex work (Sugar babies), NSFW Gender neutral reader

Thinking about the first time you sent more…risky photos to your mystery account of four men. For the first few months it was going really well for you. You were financially stable enough to

pay your tuition fees and your bills on time. You could finally treat yourself to things you couldn’t previously afford, and the boys love receiving little pictures of the things you buy yourself. Honestly, you were stable enough to quit this and apply for a “proper' Job, but there was a big part of you that didn’t want to leave this all behind. In a weird way, you grew very attached to these strangers on the other side of the world who paid you just to talk to them. They helped you during your toughest moments, even when they didn’t have to do anything. In a way, you were grateful for opening this account on a whim and meeting these little strangers.

And so, you considered maybe it was time to give them a little gift for all they've done for you.

You knew that a big part of this website was exchanging nudes and dirty pictures for money, but you had never really taken advantage of that specific service before. Infact, the men didn’t even seem to initiate anything sexual with you at all, and were perfectly happy just chatting with you and every now and then getting a cute selfie to tell you how gorgeous you looked. 

But because they weren’t going to ask for more, you decided you had to make that plunge yourself. You weren’t sure if you knew what you were doing. You didn’t go out to buy any expensive costume or underwear for the photo, just stripped down to your cheap everyday undergarments and…posed. Or at least tried to. There was an awkward phase of switching to random positions to try and find one that didn’t look too forced. You weren’t too sure if the photos you took were any good. In fact, your critical mind was telling you that they were horrific. You had picked the one photo that you considered to be ‘less bad’ than the rest and your finger was hovering over the send button as you considered giving in to embarrassment and turning around now. But, you swallowed the lump in your throat and clicked. All that was left for you to do is wait.

Switching to the 141s pov, There was some downtime after completing a rather difficult mission. John was sending a report to lasswell about the details of what went down, reporting back on the intel and the status of their target. Simon was in his corner, per usual, dulling his knife on a block of wood to carve it into shape. Kyle had found a spot on the floor he could lie down in without being disturbed, absolutely buggered after the whole ordeal. And then there was Soap…

The boys decided to rotate shifts on who gets the laptop per day. As of right now, Johnny had it open beside him while he patted dust and sand out of his shoes, not focusing on the screen until a little ‘Ding!’ noise signified you had sent something. He finally looked over and scrolled to your new message, his eyelids shooting open and his mouth hanging open as he releases a very audible “Jesus fuckin’ Christ…” Suddenly he had the attention of all three other men in that room, heads turning in his direction as if a gunshot went off. Johnny rushed to close the laptop in a desperate, possessive attempt to keep his comrades leering eyes of your body. Simon tried to wrestle the laptop from Johnnys, as the latter told him in many colourful words to “fuck off and mind your own business.” 

Between the two tusling each other, Kyle getting up and manoeuvring to see what the fuss was about, and John attempting to break up the fight, the laptop slipped from Soaps hands and on to the floor in front of them, screen open and revealing the entire image to all four of them.

Any “Flaw” You had perceived in the photo was entirely nonexistent when it met their eyes. They stood and stared at the picture for what felt like hours, just admiring the form they had only seen in their imaginations. The soft curves of your uncovered chest, outlined by the stray light of the window making you look like an angel from heaven. Their eyes traced down your chest to your abdomen, down to your clothed core that you displayed with shyly spread legs to them. They didn’t even notice, nor care about the cheap piece of cotton; too enamoured by the outlined imprint of your sex against the fabric that they swore was calling their name.

On your side of the world, you were thinking yourself into a stupor as the little “seen” status appeared on screen but no one was saying anything. So much anxiety coursed through your veins that you had bitten your nails until there wasn’t much left of them. You wondered if maybe you made a mistake. Was it too far? Did you potentially ruin the few people who cared about your day and your only source of income? 

Just as the thought of deleting your account and getting a one-way ticket to another country out of embarrassment started to play at your mind, the laptop pinged. Messages popped up on your screen. Four, exactly.

“Jesus christ you are a proper sight to behold.” (Gaz)

“The things I’d do to those pretty fuckin’ thighs of yours if I got the chance…” (Soap)

“Fuckin’ Gorgoeus.” (ghost)

“You’ve caused quite a stir here, love. Never seen the boys this pent up before. Can’t say I blame them. You’ve got me a little stiff here as well.” (Price)

[disgustingtwitches]

MDNI

Working at a restaurant with 141!(Part 5)

The shithead owner decides that he needs to sign up for a "restaurant renovation" show. Chaos ensues.

"A fucking TV show?"

Gaz frowns while polishing glasses.

"Told him it was a bad idea."

Price shrugs, lighting a cigar. You are horrified, being on the screen for millions of people to see was nerve wracking. And it'll be the first time you meet the owner.

"Restaurant renovation... Lik' he gives twa fucks aboot renovating this shitehole."

Johnny ashes his smoke and passes it to you. You take a deep drag and sigh, this is gonna be a disaster.

~

Cameras are set up everywhere, everyone's mic'd up, there are too many people in too small of a space. Some obnoxiously loud man introduces himself. He seems to be an amalgamation of every TV host you've ever seen, wearing too much cologne and too much hair gel. He puts a hand on your shoulder,

"The place looks terrible but at least they got something nice to look at here."

He flashes a smile, cheap veneer blindingly white. You awkwardly laugh while Price steps in, introducing himself. You scurry away to the back where the rest of the boys are,

"I want everyone to be on their best behavior today. No fucking around. Don't make me look bad."

The owner is a bland man, average height and weight, with a shitty haircut and wearing an ugly flashy shirt. He turns around and briefly introduces himself, he already smells like liquor. Great. He gets waved over to get interviewed by the host. You and the guys watch from the other end of the restaurant. It's quite embarrassing, the host pointing out how run down the place looks, the menu is confusing and overwhelming, and then asks if he's drunk,

"I can smell the alcohol from here Carl... it's only 11am buddy."

The owner stutters and blinks,

"I- just uh, just a crazy night is all."

The host stares, unconvinced. Carl shifts awkwardly in his chair. The next segment was ordering food apparently, so you were up. You walk up to the table as the host asks you a barrage of questions,

"How would you say the fish is here? Is everything fresh? What do you think of the steak? Do you have any recommendations?"

When you say you only ate the fries from here and he laughs loudly,

"That is not a good sign folks!"

He stares at the camera, showing off teeth that were too big for his mouth before you walk off and punch in the order. There's a cameraman recording John and Simon cooking,

"Steak and potatoes."

John reads the slip out loud, they move around the kitchen while the owner watches. For such a simple dish there's a lot of chaos, Carl is yelling at them to move faster and cook properly, John is busy arguing with Carl and burns the steak, Simon plates up the food and hands it off to you. You place the plate down in front of the host,

"Oh...oh my God..."

You keep a straight face, hands behind your back. The host looks back up at you,

"Does the food usually come out like this?"

There's a tone of disgust and concern, his eyebrows turned up, you shrug. He stares back down at the filet and cuts into it,

"It's very impressive that one is able to overcook such a large piece of meat. That takes...skill."

You watch concertedly as he picks up a piece and puts it into his mouth, it looks like he wants to cry.

He goes on to complain about the quality of the food to the camera as he walks to the kitchen,

"At least it's clean back here. I've seen kitchens in wors- is that a fucking pigeon?"

Sure enough, there is. How the fuck did it get in here?

"Oh! I just left the door open to let some fresh air in..."

Carl awkwardly tries to catch the bird while the boys watch amusedly, even the camera crew stifle a laugh.

"Christ Almighty, what is wrong with you man?"

The host shakes his head, watching the whole scene in disbelief. Eventually, the bird is out of the building and the sweep of the kitchen continues.

"Food is not expired, everything is stored properly, it's all very well organized. I was honestly expecting worse."

The host walks up to the bar next, plucking up bottles and examining them,

"So, Kyle is it? How long have you been working here for?"

"Just a little over five years."

Gaz leans against the bar. There's a gasp and the host waves the camera over,

"Look at this shit,"

He points at the label,

"Expired in August,"

You look over at Gaz and Soap, they look like they're about to piss themselves, holding back laughs.

"Of 2012!"

The host looks disgusted,

"Why didn't you throw this away?"

"Carl told me to not toss anything."

Kyle shrugged. Soap is almost in tears, shaking, trying to bite back a howl of laughter.

The next two days are like this, you don't know why Carl hasn't pulled the plug on this fiasco yet,

"I think he's getting drunker as the days go by."

Johnny says, ashing his cigarette. There's a nod from Simon,

"I think he enjoys being embarrassed, seems like the type to get off on that."

'The big finale' as the host calls it, means getting a new menu, refreshing the cooks(John's) skills, and cleaning out the bar. The place is opened and there's a line out of the door. It's overwhelming, the customers are putting on a show, acting like dickheads and sending everything back even when there's nothing wrong with the food. Simon and John are on top of everything, putting out food as fast as possible, Carl is shitting himself running around the kitchen like a headless chicken. The night goes by fast and everyone is at the bar,

"So the cooks are for the most part competent, the waitress is amazing, and the bartender is well... The man can do no wrong. The problem here is you,"

The host points at Carl who is fucking sloshed swaying back and forth,

"I genuinely think this restaurant would be better off without you."

Carl starts bawling. The host is visibly uncomfortable. The boys and you are looking at each other. Then when all the cameras and lights are gone, it's all back to normal. Carl is looking for reassurance from anyone and you and the boys just pack up and head home, Price patting him on the back,

"You'll be alright."

~

A few months later, you're all sat on the couch watching the TV. Johnny's over the moon pointing at the screen,

"Look thare A am! See hou sexy A look?"

He's smiling and waving at the camera in the background of the scene where Carl is crying his eyes out. That gets a laugh out of Gaz,

"You're a sick bastard, Soap."

Once the episode dropped, the restaurant got busy for a few months. Most of the customers are horny women ogling at Kyle. On occasion you get the request to bring out "the scary looking one" and you just laugh it off.

"You're so lucky working with all these guys, I don't know if I'd be able to control myself,"

A particularly drunk woman said to you one day. You just smile while Kyle winks at you over his shoulder.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 2 ] || [ Chapter 4 ]

Pairing: Ghost x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1K~ cw: some sexual jokes/innuendos Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 3: Simon

After doing the dishes, you moved yourself over to the living room and turned on the TV. Some rerun of an older season of Law and Order was playing.

You started watching but you found your eyes drifting back to your phone… 

Against your better judgement, you clicked on the Tinder app icon again. Maybe, maybe you should swipe just a little more.

And so you did. 

Today you said ‘Fuck you, Beyoncé’ and always went to the Right, to the Right. 

Just as you were pondering another profile, the screen darkened with a ‘It’s a Match!’ notification, making you jump a bit, as usual.

You clicked the profile and your brow scrunched. 

You didn’t remember liking this one… Though you obviously did, after all, you were liking everyone.

The only picture wasn’t even anything. It was dark and grainy and the man was wearing a black disposable face mask. If that even was him. Could just be a random picture off-Google, picked by someone who wanted to be anonymous. Not quite a catfish but close enough…

“Simon.” You said softly and dragged your finger through the screen to read his bio. For a moment you couldn’t help but smirk a little. He was sarcastic, a bit strange, but charismatic in his own way.

“Bad jokes, Bourbon, Discreet…” You mused while scanning his profile. “Tall enough.” You read aloud and couldn’t help but laugh at it. That made you feel like he was short.

Against your better judgement for the second time, you decided to send him a DM instead of waiting for him to. Something told you he wouldn’t.

you: tall enough - does that mean you’re below 6ft?

Simon: No.

Simon: Means that I have inches to spare.

you: was that a dick joke?

Simon: No.

Simon: Unless you wanted it to be.

You snorted softly under your breath. Of course he was a smart ass too…

you: ambiguous, i like it.

you: so how tall are you then?

Simon: Does it matter?

you: no. just curious.

Simon: 6ft4.

you: that feels like a lie.

Simon: I avoided putting it for a reason.

you: worried people would call you a liar?

Simon: No use. Going to be called it regardless.

you: that’s fair ig.

you: what’s a traveling consultant?

Simon: Similar to a contractor. Get brought in to help businesses all over the world.

you: what kind of businesses?

Simon: That’s need-to-know.

you: you type so formally and professionally jeez.

you: will i ever get to know?

Simon: Force of habit. Don’t text a lot.

Simon: Not if I can help it.

you: somehow i can tell.

you: what are you doing here then?

Simon: Curiosity mostly.

you: trying to see if you attract any fish? 👀

Simon: Something like that. A friend is on here. Wanted to see what all the fuss is about.

you: i see.

you: got anything yet?

Simon: No. But only created this 12 minutes ago.

you: am i your first then?

Simon: Not my first in anything, love.

Your eyes widened a bit and for some reason you found yourself getting a bit flustered, your face warming up just a bit.

you: does that mean you’ve hooked up with people through a dating app before?

Simon: Something of the sorts.

you: aw, im really not going to be your first.

Simon: That’s alright. You can come see me either way.

Simon: I’m sure you’ll find some other thing to be the first at.

Your breath got caught in your throat and you started sputtering. That came out of left field! He had gone from professional and mild-mannered to… flirty so quickly! Gulping, you tried to answer him with something coherent and funny.

you: idk what if you murder me?

Simon: I promise I won’t.

you: is that meant to be enough to convince me? 🤨

Simon: I’ll leave all my guns at home.

you: the fact you have more than one is not reassuring the way you think it is.

Simon: If it makes it any better, I wouldn’t need a gun to kill you.

Even though you don’t know this man, you can imagine that he’s laughing to himself behind his phone screen, all smug, thinking he’s funny. And, the worst part, is that he is.

you: reassuring. thanks.

Simon: Glad to be of service.

you: i think what makes it worse is that uve not got a pic of ur face.

Simon: Wouldn’t hook up with a bloke with his face covered?

you: no? are u trying to get me axe murdered? bc thats how u get axe murdered simon

Simon: LOL.

Simon: No.

you: u sure? a masked face with a mysterious job and a suspicious amount of guns… sounds like the upgraded version of ghostface… except online rather than over the phone.

Simon: I’ll take that as a compliment.

Simon: You’re funny. 

Simon: I like that.

you: thanks. 

Simon: Wondering if you’re that funny in real life or if you’d get all shy on me.

you: probably a mix of both.

Simon: How about we confirm that then? 

Simon: Meet up with me for drinks. No pressure on time or place. You can even postpone if it comes down to it. My job is unpredictable enough so I might have to postpone too.

Your eyes widened. The first attempt at flirting from him, of inviting you for a shag, had been clearly sarcastic… But this one is genuine.

you: ill get back to u on that, is that okay?

Simon: No sweat.

Simon: And if you’re just being polite and not actually going to text me again then: This was fun. Enjoyed myself. Take care.

You bit your lip to suppress a smile when you saw his polite goodbye. He was… sweet, weirdly enough.

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taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthoney , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Just got this idea and it made me cry ok so for 141+König where the reader suddenly walks up to him and just kisses and holds him while crying cause they love him so much and they panicked at the thought of losing him maybe sth happened and they got scared or maybe they were just thinking about it idk FUCK I love them so much can't bear the thought of anything happening to them 😭💔

141 + Königs Reactions To You Crying For/Over Them

Warnings: swearing, crying, mentions of death, mentions of bullying, angst

Simon Ghost Riley-

You hadn’t been able to find Simon all day. You chalked it up to the both of you being busy on base, but usually you’d always caught a glimpse of him throughout the day.

You had a gnawing feeling at your chest, but weren’t able to act upon it until later that night. You found Simon on the rooftop of base, staring up at the night sky as he took a drag of his cigarette.

“I thought you quit smoking.” You teased, slowly walking up to him.

When Simon didn’t give his usual witty remark in reply, you knew something was wrong. His eyes remained glued to the stars, and you could see that his eyes were red.

“Simon, are you okay?” You asked, your hand resting on top of his in a comforting gesture. “Talk to me.”

Simon tore his eyes away from the sky, and flicked his cigarette over the railing. “It’s the anniversary today.”

“Anniversary?” You asked, your brows furrowing in confusion.

“It’s been 6 years since they died.” Simon said, his voice hoarse from crying.

“Your family?” You asked, giving his hand another squeeze. In the years you’d been together, Simon had only talked about his family a few times, and you were never one to press the subject. Simon was a reserved man, and you’d don’t want to push your luck with that.

But Simon told you everything that night. Every little detail of his life when he was a child. The kind of man his father was. How his family was murdered and that the only thing he could do for them was to get revenge. No detail was spared, and once he was done speaking, Simon found a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He’d finally let someone in.

He took a breath, and looked up at you to find you sobbing. You didn’t know what to do, other than throw yourself into Simon’s arms, gripping around his waist at tight as you possibly could.

“Simon, I am so, so sorry you’ve gone through that. I don’t know.. I don’t know what to say other than I’m here for you. I will always be here for you.” You cried into his chest. “I love you, more than you’ll ever know.”

“I know, kid.” He said, his eyes softening as he looked down at you. “I know.”

John MacTavish-

You awoke in a cold sweat, breathing rapidly as you blinked away hot tears. You’d just had the worst nightmare. You were out on a mission, when Johnny was killed right in front of you. The dream felt so real, and your heart was aching at the very real possibility that you could lose him on a mission.

You looked next to you, and found Johnny’s side of the bed cold and empty. It was clear he hadn’t been in bed for some time.

You threw the covers off of you, throwing one of Johnny’s hoodies on before making your way toward the gym- somewhere you knew he would be at this hour.

You breathed a shaky sigh of relief as you laid eyes on Johnny. He’d worked up quite the sweat, and it was clear he’d been here for some time.

Your legs reacted before your brain could catch up, and you found yourself grabbing Johnny by the collar of his shirt and roughly placing your lips on his.

You pulled back, breathless as you looked up as Johnny with tears in your eyes. He immediately frowned, his brows furrowed in concern.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart. Are you alright?” His hands rubbed at your arms soothingly.

“I- I had a dream. You were gone and there was nothing I could do.” You sobbed, rubbing away at your tears as your eyes drifted to the floor. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”

Johnny pulled you close to him, his arms holding you tight against his chest as he pressed kisses along your temple. “I’m here, Bonnie. It was just a dream. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. I couldn’t sleep.”

“It felt so real.” You said, pulling away. “I.. I don’t know what I’d ever do if I lost you. I just.. I can’t even comprehend it.”

“Then don’t. Because I promise you, I will do everything in my power to keep coming back to you, okay?” Johnny asked, lifting your chin up so that your eyes met his. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You sniffled in return, rubbing your teary eyes against his shirt causing Johnny to chuckle softly. “Let us get back to bed, yeah?”

“I’m not even tired anymore.” You mumbled, not pulling your face from Johnnys chest.

“Well, it’s a good thing a beds good for more than just sleeping, eh?” Johnny threw you a cheeky smile, before lifting you in his arms. “Gotta show my babe I’m not going anywhere.”

John Price-

Everything happened so fast. One minute, John was by your side as a hail of bullets rained down on the two of you in the field. The next, John was halfway across the field, oblivious to the enemy behind him. It was a blur, the man raised his gun, and proceeded to shoot John in the chest.

“John!” You shrieked, watching as the man you love fell to the ground. Your heart began to beat wildly in your chest as your brain started to malfunction. Nothing else around you in that moment mattered. He couldn’t die, not like this. He couldn’t leave you.

You sprinted across the field, ignoring the shouts of the other soilders around you, your eyes welling with tears as John’s frame came into view.

You skidded to your knees, your hands immediately reaching for John’s face.

“John!” You whimpered, your eyes skimming down the length of his body.

“Baby, hey. It’s okay. The vest caught it. It just knocked the wind out of me.” John reached out to grab your hands, trying to calm you down, to no avail.

Your hands continued to frantically pull at his vest, you needed to see he was truly unharmed with your own eyes. “No! No you got shot!”

John grasped your hands in his gently, forcing you to look at him. “Y/N. Look at me.”

You blinked away tears, your bottom lip wobbling as you threw your arms around him in a tight embrace. “I thought I lost you.”

“I hope you know it’s going to take a lot more than a stray bullet to keep me from you.” John said, before capturing your lips in his. “I promise you I’m okay, alright?”

You nodded, pulling away to help John to his feet. With one final firm kiss, the two of you finished out the mission, neither one of you straying too far from the other.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

You twiddled your thumbs anxiously, your eyes darting back to the front door of the base every few minutes, praying Kyle would walk through the door.

141 was expected back three days ago, and according to Laswell they’d gone radio silent the day they were supposed to come back.

You choked back a sob, burying your face into your arms. You don’t know what you’d do with yourself if Kyle never came back. He was your everything.

You slowed your breathing, trying to regain your composure when the click of the front door caught your attention. Your head jumped up, your heart immediately skipping a beat as Kyle and the rest of the 141 walked through the front door, looking a little worse for wear.

Without a second of hesitation, your legs moved faster than they ever had in your life as you slammed yourself into Kyle, your arms encompassing his waist in a firm grip.

Your relationship wasn’t common knowledge, so Kyle was quite surprised when you made such a public display of affection, but it wasn’t unwelcome in the slightest. His squeezed you in return, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m here, babe. It’s okay.”

“They kept saying you weren’t coming back. That you were all dead.” You cried softly, burying your face in your boyfriend’s chest. “I was so scared.”

“I know, I’m so sorry. Everything’s going to be okay.” He promised, holding you tighter. “I’ve got you.”

The two of you remained inseparable for the remainder of the day, neither one of you taking your eyes off each other.

König-

It was no secret that König wasn’t the most popular person on base. Between his height, the frightening mask he wore, and his timid nature, he wasn’t known for making many friends.

It’d come as a shock to the majority of the people on base when it was announced that you and König were a couple.

You’d heard the whispers of course, just as König did. The rude comments thrown about him behind his back, unbeknownst to you, had König’s self esteem plummeting.

You didn’t find out until late one night when you found your boyfriend alone in the weapons locker, looking the most upset you’d ever seen him.

“Babe? You weren’t at dinner, is everything okay?” You asked, pausing a few paces in front of him. You’d never seen him like this and you were unsure of how to react.

“I’m a freak, Maus.” König spoke, his voice so quiet you can barely hear him. “No matter what I do, no matter how good I am out on the field, no matter how well I follow orders… I’ll always be the outcast.”

Your heart shattered at his words, hot tears forming in your eyes as you stepped closer to him. “König, that’s not true.”

König finally looked up at you, a solemn expression on his face- something you never wanted to see on your lover again. “It is. I know you’ve heard what they say. I’m a monster. I’m weird. I look more like the villain than the hero. It’s all things I’ve told myself before.”

“Look at me.” You said, crouching before him. You quickly wiped away the stray tears that began to fall as you spoke. “You are not any of those things. Those people are fools. They haven’t gotten to know the man underneath the mask. On the field, you’re the battering ram. A powerhouse. The perfect weapon. But off the field? You’re the best fucking person I know.”

You pulled him into a tight hug, holding him close to you as you rubbed his back soothingly. “I love you so much König. If I have to, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you how great of a person you are.”

“I don’t deserve you Maus.” He murmured, squeezing you tighter. “But I thank god every day you’re in my life.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: ahh not super happy with this turned out- I’m not sure if I captured this request the best🥺

Excited to keep putting out the next few requests. Thank you again everyone for all your support❤️

[tacticaldiary]

Can you write something about Simon being a little to rough with reader and they end up having bad bruises so they hide it from Simon and when he finds out he goes a little crazy and won’t touch them until reader snaps and tells him they need his touch

Painless Bruises

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

It really wasn't a massive deal, but she knows Simon would withdraw if he saw the evidence he left behind on her.

Masterlist

It's almost as if the day had a personal grudge against her, bringing along the hottest day of the year the one time she has to wear something unsuitable for the weather.

She itches the skin of her neck that's not covered by her black turtleneck, the long sleeves of the shirt sticking uncomfortably to her skin as she runs laps around the training centre.

Bruises.

Hand shaped bruises circle her forearms, a deep set shade of purple, and a particularly nasty one lines her collarbone, just under the juncture of the slope of her shoulder.

Thankfully she can blame the heat that creeps up her face at the thought of how she got them on the intense cardio they were doing. They were set to be dropped off in Serbia for a mission in 6 days, so the 141 was busy preparing for clearing their physical evaluations before they were dispatched.

Skin against lips, and the rustling of sheets last night. Simon had just gotten back from a solo mission somewhere up north and they hadn't seen each other in over a fortnight. Needless to say, when they did get a moment alone in his room last night things had gotten a little more intense than usual.

Rough, calloused hands held her arms in place, heavy breaths and feelings that could not be put into words exchanged under the light of the moon. She hadn't minded his grip, it had just surprised her. Simon was not a gentle person by any means, rough around the edges and as standoffish as the definition could get, but he had never been harsh enough with her for the evidence to linger into the daylight.

When she'd woken up the next day, catching sight of her arms, guilt pooled in her gut. She didn't mind it, it's not like they hurt particularly bad, but she knew if Simon saw them he'd withdraw.

It was an instinctual feeling, but she knows she's right. Simon had...a difficult past, one he rarely shared with her but she'd heard enough to know that he'd never want to hurt the people he loved.

She was afraid that bruises inflicted by him, especially ones as ugly as these, would make him blank and pull away, or even worse: treat her like she's fragile.

She didn't want a gentle Simon, she wanted him in all his brash, rough glory.

"Come on Gaz, the lass is running circles around you!" Soap heckles as she passes him by. She can't help but stifle a snort when she hears Gaz yell back an insult, a good few paces behind her. Ghost was standing next to Soap, watching the pair finish their last lap. His eyes follow her, bore into her as she passes. Him staring quietly is nothing new, but she can feel the questions from his gaze from halfway across the room.

She'd slipped out of his room before he'd woken up, and had forgone meeting him in the mess hall for breakfast to figure out how exactly she was going to hide the marks from him.

Slowing down after her last lap, she plops down on the ground with a sigh, gulps down the water bottle Soap pushes in her hands, the cool water a nice reprieve from the sweltering heat and sweat. Going to tug her turtleneck away to let some air hit her throat, her fingers freeze on the fabric when she feels Ghost's gaze on her again. Slowly lowering her hand, she clears her throat and turns her attention to Soap and Gaz bickering.

"You've got a big mouth for someone who can't outrun me either, MacTavish." She snickers, making Gaz grin.

"We're both in second place, mate." The man laughs, clapping Soap on the shoulder before offering a hand to pull her up. She accepts gratefully, feeling her legs burn pleasantly from the exercise.

She doesn't anticipate Gaz grabbing her forearm to pull her up. He grips right over her bruises and tugs her to her feet. It's just her luck that she can't manage to swallow down the strangled, muffled sound of pain in the back of her throat.

"You alright there?" Gaz lets go of her, brows furrowing. Ghost seems to have moved closer, ever the silent person.

"Fine." She swallow, her arm stinging. "Just...got a stitch in my side." Waving off the grimace Soap gives her, she's about to move on, ask if any of them would want to hit the bar with her after this, when a gruff, low voice speaks up.

"Roll them up."

She blinks, her stomach twisting as she turns to look at her Lieutenant.

"I'm fine, Ghost-"

"I didn't ask." He cuts her off. "If you're injured, better to get it fixed than ignore it."

"Good thing I'm not injured then." She offers him a smile. The other two boys glance at each other.

"Sergeant." There's a sense of finality in his tone, from which she knows it's an order. Meeting his eyes, she silently pleads with him to change his mind, a staring contest with a brick wall. Resigning herself to her fate, she relents, taking a deep breath and gingerly rolling up her sleeves to her elbows.

The sharp hitch of Simon's breath is only apparent to her after months of leaning the tiny quirks of his body.

"Steamin' Jesus, how'd you mangle that up so bad?" Soap exclaims, grabbing her hand and turning it this way and that. Gaz whistled low, eyes narrowing.

"That's some nasty bruising " Gaz frowns. "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine." She snatches back her arm, shoving her sleeves back down. "Not as bad as it looks, trust me." Avoiding Simon's gaze is harder than it's ever been, but she chances a split second peek at his expression.

His eyes are the only part of his face visible, but they've always been the most expressive part of him if one knows his quirks. Right now? Right now Simon has the same look he sported when that building came down on Soap after one of his explosions malfunctioned from being rigged incorrectly.

Upset and muted horror. She can tell his brows are knitted tight under his mask, his jaw clenched because he knows.

"Medbay, now." Is all Ghost says, a hand on her shoulder leading her away from the group. Her protests fall on deaf ears as they exit the room, the others not questioning their Lieutenant.

The walk down the hallway is suffocating, and Simon's grip immediately retracts once they're outside. He takes a left down the hall and she hesitantly follows.

The medbay is to the right.

The barracks are secluded this time of the day, everyone out and about, so it's the perfect place to have this discussion. Not that she wanted to have it in the first place...

"Want to explain why you didn't tell me?" Is the first thing he says. He sounds angry, and only the most seasoned of his partners would recognise the edge of concern in his voice. "You think hiding something like that was a good idea?"

"I wasn't hiding it, I just-"

"Bullshit. I hurt you." He states, a flash of pain quicker than she can catch in his eyes. "Why didn't you say?"

"Because it's fine, Simon!" She exclaims, grabbing his arms, hoping he understands. "You didn't hurt me, we just...got a little carried away. It's alright, they don't hurt bad."

"I was too rough with you." A slightly strained voice that tugs at her heart. "Fuck, I'm sorry." The apology spilled out of his mouth unprompted, and for a moment she's left shocked because he's the last person to apologise for something unless absolutely necessary.

Which means he really believes he did something terrible.

"I forgive you." She says immediately. "There, problem solved, right?"

"No, that's not how this shit works." Simon clutches onto the back of his neck, agitated at himself. "I didn't...fuck, I didn't mean to..." Something dawns on him and he meets her eyes with a newfound sense of dread. "Where else?"

Her pause is enough to give him his answer.

"Show me." He demands.

"Simon-"

"Take it off." He tugs at the bottom of her shirt. His fingers never brush against her skin.

Taking a deep breath and seeing no way out of this, she lets her shoulder sag and concedes, shrugging off the turtleneck and leaving her in a short sleeved undershirt. His eyes snap to the bruising on her collarbone, his jaw tightening.

"Don't apologise again." She says when he opens his mouth to talk. "I'm not fucking fragile, Simon. I can take a hit or two, this is nothing."

It's the wrong thing to say, the worst thing to say judging by the way Simon instantly recoils, taking a step back at her words.

"I'd never hurt you on purpose. Never." He says quietly.

Ghost is a silent person. His footsteps never detected, melting in the shadows and slitting throats before anyone realises he's even there.

But he's not quiet. Never quiet. Never with her, at least.

"I know." She soothes, moving to close the distance but pausing when he shakes his head. "I worded that badly..."

"I wouldn't...I'm not-"

"You're nothing like your father." She states, pulling the words out to lay out for the both of them. "I trust you, Simon. I trust you every day with my life on the field, and my heart in our bedroom." She gestures to her bruises. "I don't blame you for any of this. The both of us were too occupied to pay attention to be considerate and hell, I liked it."

At his skeptical look, she continues on. "If it makes you feel better, the day you lay a hand on me is the day I beat your ass into the ground."

"I'd let you." He says gruffly, straightening up slowly.

Gently, he takes her hand, turning it over to bare her forearms. Gently brushing a thumb over the purple and blue, his eyes flicker to her face to scan for any discomfort. When he finds none, he directs his gaze back to the bruising, his mind somewhere else.

She lets him have a few moments of silence, knowing full well that this wouldn't be the end of this.

"I'm sorry." He says again, gently brushing his fingers over her collarbone. "Won't happen again, love."

                                · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·  

Their quick, secret touches throughout the day had always sparked her to life.

Whether that be a gentle brush of their arms while they walked down the hall, or a quick squeeze of a shoulder after a harsh day of training. Inconspicuous touches that carried more meaning to them that met the eye.

She can count on one hand how many times Simon has touched her over the past three days, even if four of her fingers were blown off.

It's frustrating. Always busy, never standing within the length to reach out and touch, always out of his room when she'd knocked and peered in at night. He'd redirect her whenever she tried to initiate anything, even a friendly hug. Once he'd legitimately stepped away from her, and she's not going to lie, but it stung a little.

Needless to say, she was itching to corner him.

As she waits outside the meeting room where he currently is with Price, she thinks about how she knew this would happen. She knew he'd withdraw and refuse to be near enough to touch her properly, and it's driving her up the wall because godammit she misses him.

He knows he's fucked the second he walks out, pinned with a glare that promises consequences if he doesn't follow her. With a quiet sigh, he trails behind her until they're in her room, the door clicking shut behind them.

"Did you need something, love?"

"Funny you should ask." She deadpans. "You drive me insane sometimes, you know that Simon Riley?"

It's a little funny how he straightens up with the use of his full name, more at attention. She'd have poked fun at him in she hadn't been as angry.

"Do you think I'm fragile, Simon?" She snaps. "That I'll break if you breathe on me? You've been practically ignoring me for three days, pulling away. Walking away." When she strides closer to him, he doesn't move back. "And I swear to all that is holy, if you don't stop with this bullshit, I'm going to well and truly snap."

A pause.

"Well, someone sounds desperate." The poor attempt at deflection makes her even angrier. She grabs his hands, guides them to her shoulders and squeezes hard. He lets her, watching quietly.

Quiet. God, she hates it when he's quiet.

"Touch me. Just...you won't hurt me, Simon." She sighs at the feeling of his hands on her, burning even through her shirt. "You know you won't, you're just afraid."

"Not afraid." He grunts, curling his fingers around her shoulder, something she considers a small win. She can feel his hands twitch with the desire to abandon his self control and pull her closer. It almost makes her smile to think the distance is impacting him just as much.

"Then what?"

"Just...wary."

"Well stop it, then." She huffs. "I need you, Simon. I can't go about my day knowing that my damn boyfriend won't touch me because he think I'm fine china."

"You're one of the best soldiers." He rolls his eyes. "You and I both know you're anything but breakable."

"Then quit acting like a selfless asshole and-" She cuts herself off with a gasp when his hands slide to her waist, pulling her into his body. Warm and all encompassing, her blood sings at the contact after so long.

"This is what you wanted?" He hums, finally conceding. She shivers, feeling his chest rumble under her cheek.

"Yes." She sighs. "See, wasn't so hard, was it?"

He doesn't answer for a moment, the both of them taking a second to settle back down into their skins, feeling the familiar press of dips and curves pressed against each other. She rests her cheek against his chest, hands coming up to grab onto his back.

"I'm alright, Simon." She whispers. "We're both okay."

His grip tightening around her like it usually does is the only answer she needs, the press of his lips onto her head through his mask making her sigh contentedly.

This.

This was more than okay.

Requests Are Open!

(03/07/2023)

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Ending Things (Long Drabble) Author's Note: Oh this one hurt to write. And I'm not gonna lie - it's going to keep getting worse from here Warnings: MDNI, Angst

After that one night you over did it at the bar, you woke up, hungover and worried that you had done something stupid in front of the 141. But it seemed like things were fine as everything went on as usual the next few weeks. If anything you assumed something happened between them as you sensed some weird tension among them. But you weren't worried, they're the 141. They'll figure it out.

And it seems like they did after that random meeting in Price's office. But as they returned to normal, your relationship with everyone shifted.

It's like these last few months of camaraderie just disappeared. No more "good mornings", "how are you", "any plans tonight" - nothing of the sort. Instead, it's just commands, orders, and the occasional question about intel and reports, but overall nothing too comfortable. Confused by the sudden switch up, you decide to reach out first and figure out what happened.

If you had done something, then the least they can do is be mature about it and tell you. Because that's what teams do.

So with some recently dropped intel, you knock on Soap's door. After hearing him say enter, you walk in and take note of how the sergeant faltered, surprised to see you in his office.

"Hey Johnny-boy, I was wondering if you could help me go through some files we just got?" This was y'all's thing. He's never turned you down before so in your mind, this was foolproof. Or at least, you thought it was.

"If you can't handle some measly reports, you should probably re-evaluate your career choices. I can't always hold your hand when things get hard. I got my own work to do, you know?," he says, eyes still on his paperwork. Annoyance clear in his voice.

Your mouth runs dry. You try to save face and explain that you just value his insight on things. Your face heats up when he looks at you with the most unimpressed eyes. You apologize for wasting his time and quickly leave his office, feeling embarrassed by the interaction.

What you don't see is the way the Scotsman winced when he sees his door close, knowing that you left feeling like a fool.

Things with Soap did not go well, but you try not to dwell too much on his words. You knew that he had his days so if anything, you probably just picked a bad one.

So that's why you approach Kyle next as he always kept his cool when things were rough. If you anyone would listen to you, it would be Kyle. So the next day, you head to his office, lunch in hand, excited to catch up with the sergeant.

Seeing his door open, you stop at the entrance and knock on the door frame. He glances up and asks if you needed anything.

"No, just wanted to check up on you. Maybe see if you had any ideas you wanted to work through before the meeting," you chirp, eyes beaming with joy. Kyle usually workshopped his ideas with you before suggesting them to the team. But it's been awhile. He's probably been busy with reports and all that.

"With you? Not really."

"Oh, I just thought, you know since you usually--"

"Yeah, I know, but honestly what's the point? You've never been out in the field so what would you know?" He shrugs with that last phrase.

While he had somewhat of a point, that didn't mean you were completely useless. The last few months should speak on that. You try to push back, but he doesn't bother to look at you. Realizing he wasn't going to listen, you leave.

But, Gaz does listen. He hears how your steps get further and further away until he hears the distinct sound of your office door closing.

Okay, things weren't looking great. But if there was one constant in your life, it was Ghost. Despite his prickly exterior, you knew he was a softie at heart.

So you look for him at the base's gym, instead of his office, knowing that he was probably getting some reps in during his break. And just like you predicted, you found Ghost at the bench press with some rookies that liked to test your boundaries. But with Ghost nearby, you knew you'd be safe. Now with a gift in hand, you stand in front of the Lieutenant and wait for him to finish.

After a few minutes, he sits up and questions your presence, adding that he didn't think pencil pushers like yourself went to the gym. Ouch, that was uncalled for, but this was part of his shtick... right?

"Good to see you too, Ghost" you quip. He doesn't react. You falter a bit, but you quickly regained your composure. This was Ghost who you were talking to, he wouldn't hurt you. "Remember the other day when you were complaining about the calluses on your hands? Well, I got you some new gloves to see if they could help," you proudly announce as you drop the bag in his lap.

He carefully opens the bag and takes out the gloves. This had to do it. He's probably going to say thank you, maybe even ask you how you been. And that's your way in.

Or it would have been if the sound of fabric tearing didn't fill the air. Right before your eyes, Ghost was tearing a glove right through the middle. He stands up and towers over you, throwing your gift to the ground.

"Honestly if you spent even half of this energy in your actual work, maybe you'd be worth keeping," he spits. You hear the nearby rookies snicker. After staring you down for a few more seconds, he lays back down and starts another set. You don't bother saying anything as the lump in your throat threatens to give you away. You walk out of the gym, shame filling your core.

But with tears blurring your eyes, you fail to notice Ghost quickly grabbing the gloves off the floor.

And now with three failed attempts in figuring out what's wrong, Price calls you into his office for a check-in. During these check-ins, he'd ask you if everything was going well with the team. You really wanted to avoid inconveniencing him with such a trivial matter, but the other three left you with no choice.

You walk into his office, determined for answers. Or at least, were until he asked you to close the door behind him, an action only reserved for when the conversation was serious. After shutting the door, you take a seat, nervous as his usually friendly eyes aren't there to greet you.

With a cold gaze, Price looks you over and begins. "Look, I'm not going to beat around the bush here. Your work on the team has been decent at best." Decent? "It's clear that you're more interested in harassing my men than working alongside them." Harassing? "So if you're actually serious about your future here, I'd recommend you get your priorities straight. Do I make myself clear?"

You sat there dumbfounded. How did you get here? Just a few weeks ago, you were confident in your place on the team, and now you're at risk of losing everything you worked for. How? What caused this sudden-- oh.

The night at the bar. The night you can't remember. You probably crossed a line and despite their best efforts to ignore it, they just couldn't. Whatever you did, it must have been bad, because why else would they switch up on you like this? You obviously messed up.

That's why at the next team meeting, you ask Price if you could say a couple of words. Realizing the second chance they were gifting you, you decide to apologize for your inadequacies, for ever making them uncomfortable, and for overall failing them as a teammate when they never once failed you. With that, you promise to do better from here on out.

You leave that meeting determined to prove yourself once again to the team. While Johnny, Kyle, Ghost, and Price leave feeling horrible for making you feel like the monster here.

But that's what best for the team... right?

Word Count: 1371

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[ghostssweetgirl]

hii again <3

this request is a litttlleee bit darker than usual but here we go

how would 141 react when someone slips something in readers drink at a bar?? like would ghost immediately stand up and beat the mf up?? 🥹

hi! omg they would all stand up and immediately beat some ass frfr & i LOVE dark stuff, dw :) <3 i'm not that good at writing action scenes but i hope this is goooood bc i do love the idea that they would fight for u

TF141 and How They'd React to Someone Slipping Something Into Your Drink

cw: alcohol intake, mentions of drugs, violence & blood

Captain John Price

He took the team out for drinks, sitting around the bar top. Everyone was having their own conversation, and it made his heart happy to see his people laughing with smiling faces.

While he was in a corner seat, he was making sure to keep an eye out on his team, as a good captain should.

You turned around for a minute, distracted. Soon as you weren't looking, some creep had sprinkled a powdered form of a drug into your drink, causing it to fizzle.

Of course, you didn't notice as you were watching a group of people playfully argue over their pool game.

You jumped back around when all of a sudden your captain's hands were at this guy's throat.

"You really thought you'd get away with that?" Price growled.

"Mind your fuckin' business, will you?" the creep retorted.

You made eye contact with Price, confused as to what was happening. "What the fuck," you whispered.

"Take it outside," the bartender said.

"Gladly, sir," Price chuckled darkly, dragging the guy by his shirt.

A few moments later, Price returned, kindly smiling at you. You could see the adrenaline pumping through his veins at his reddened face.

"Let's order you a new drink, yeah? Fucker ruined this one."

John 'Soap' MacTavish

You took a few sips out of your first drink, setting it down.

You smiled around at your comrades, happy to be there. A random chick walked up to you, asking you what you recommended her to order as she was new here and she just turned of age to start drinking.

You were busy chatting away, getting to know her, not noticing the random arm swooping around you, drugging your beverage.

Soap sitting next to you, picked up your drink and swiftly got up without a word.

"You okay, Soap?" you turned to him. You recognized the look in his eyes - anger. "M-my drink! What are you doing with it?"

He cornered the guy, not saying a word. His chest rose and fell heavily as he tilted his head, throwing the drink in the man's face before punching the shit out of him. He tried to fight back, missing his swing as Soap got him on the ground.

The bartender held his hands up, trying to politely ask them to take it outside but Soap was too quick in his actions.

Blood quickly splattered across the concrete floor, as well as across Soap's face and uniform.

"Get the fuck outta here," Soap demanded him, towering above him as he cowardly rose off the ground, basically tucking his tail as he ran out of the bar door. Soap looked at the bartender and back at the blood. "I'll clean it up."

He returned to his seat shortly after, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "Let's get you a fresh drink, lass."

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

You were laughing at one of Price's jokes with your drink in hand. As you laughed, your hand went outwards, giving perfect access for some weirdo to walk up and put a drug in it.

Gaz watched the interaction silently, taking your drink away from you while you wouldn't notice it.

In your drunkenness, you ordered a new drink, and it was quickly given to you but as you turned around, Gaz was gone. You looked around the building, and to your surprise he was face to face with someone, having a silent, heated conversation with someone.

The guy held his hands up in defense, seeming to try to explain himself.

Gaz looked at you, seeing your worried face. The creep met your gaze and he winked at you, his lips were moving but you couldn't tell what he said.

When suddenly, Gaz smiled. You couldn't tell if it was a genuine smile or the type of smile you give someone when you're really about to give it to them.

It was the latter. Gaz hiked his knee up, bringing the man's face down to connect with it sharply. Blood painted a small patch into Gaz's pants and blood leaked down the man's face. Clearly disoriented, he tried to fight back but Gaz landed one last blow before the man held his head down, regaining his balance, shortly leaving afterwards.

The bartender sighed, walking over with cleaning supplies and Gaz helped him out.

"What... was that about, Garrick?" you whispered.

"Don't worry 'bout it. Enjoy your 'good' drink," he rolled his eyes, and from that you could tell what had happened, happy to have been around your teammates when this happened.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

You had finished quite a handful of drinks, making sure this was your last one.

You took a few first sips before setting it down, joining the conversation with your teammates.

Ghost, as usual, was quiet. Nodding along and joining the conversation when needed. He had been keeping his eyes peeled for something to happen.

Price complimented you and Ghost's teamwork, which you happily thanked him and smiled at Ghost who nodded at you, but his eyes weren't on you. They were focused at the left side of you.

You felt a presence, and before you could turn around it was gone. Looking back around, Ghost was gone, too. Damn, that was quick.

Trying to shrug it off, you go to grab your drink but couldn't find it. Now, what the fuck?

You look around confused, seeing your teammates eyeing the corner, so you follow their gaze.

Seeing Ghost, towering over someone, hand on his knife. Your eyes widened, hoping he didn't have to use it. He held your missing cup up to the man's face as if he was interrogating him. He was.

The man was near crying, lips stammering as he tried to explain himself, but Ghost wasn't having it. Ghost must have said something to set the guy off because he thought it would be a good idea to try and push past Ghost. The glass shattered from Ghost's grip. His body tensed up before one large hand clasped around the creep's throat, lifting him up the wall. He gasped for air until his face scrunched in pain as Ghost's fist met it with a violent punch. Then another. And another.

The bartender seemed annoyed, but Ghost couldn't give a shit. He let go of the now-unconscious man, letting his body fall to the ground.

Ghost sighed as he sat back down, nodding at you. You awkwardly smiled, putting two and two together on what happened.

"Thanks, Ghost..." you said.

"Want a fresh drink, luv? Sorry 'bout your last one," he asked.

"After that, yeah..."