#bodyguard!141 x reader

[xo-cod]

OP plz i am o b s e s s e d with all the bg!Simon stuff u put out bc it's just so *g o o d*, it's my Roman Empire fr fr ✊😔😩🖤

On that note,, I'd love to see the 141 as their whole security team esp when popstar's made it really big, so reader needs /all/ the big burly men protecting her 🫣

-🔒

this was so cute!! i write this au just for you and the two other people that enjoy it frfr 🥹🩷😙 lmk if you'd like a more in depth version! :")

the way bg!ghost would see you getting anxious at the sight of his team. he might be the most biggest but his team certainly do not lack their own respective height and muscles 😮‍💨🫶

his first thought would be to immediately calm you down, he knows they all can look incredibly intimidating together

"s'ok, they're with me alright?" ghost's voice is gentle, soothing as he speaks to you

he needs a clear word to see how you are and where your head is at and when you start to warm up to the team, he's right behind you

soap, gaz and price are dressed in formal wear just like ghost, their muscles all but bulging and straining against their shirts.

a range of weapons are strapped to their waist, hidden discreetly under their blazers

each of them donning a pair of sunglasses, standing tall in their stance

you can feel ghost's hand touch the small of your back and usually under any other condition, you would've taken the time to appreciate how good it felt against you

but a set of three different eyes analyses your every movement, your breath held as you await the criticisms but there is none

to your surprise all three men crack a small smile, each one different yet almost tender in their own ways

"easy sweetheart, we're just here to help" gaz's voice is gentle, calm, trustworthy.

"yeah, you won't even know we're here hen" soap is next, removing his sunglasses as he takes a cheeky smile at you

"you'll be safe with us, we're here for your protection" price's voice is soothing, his deep voice echoing pleasantly in your ears as you take in all three men carefully

and once you get acquainted with them, you get along with all three fairly quickly

cue ghost getting jealous when you start going to them instead of him :(

but they're seriously intimidating, sometimes without even trying

whenever a supporter wanted a picture or an autograph, all four men were stiff and rigid around you. like four impenetrable walls, caging you inside safe and soundly

it was a nightmare to even use the bathroom alone

whenever someone calls your name, all four men snapping their heads so worryingly fast you'd fear they get whiplash with the way they turned

if paparazzi was harassing you, they'd just need one collective look from the 141 to back off immediately

the dominance each man exudes is different and dependant yet potent, you can tell they don't mess around with their job and the tasks they've been assigned <3

also when someone attempted to try and throw something at you, resulting in said object hitting ghost's broad chest and bouncing off to the floor in front of his feet. the man barely flinching through it all as he looked back up to the person who threw it.

ghost's eyes burning behind his balaclava, taking an intimidating step forwards

soap and gaz immediately grabbing the man by his arms, barely using any of their strength to restrain

"now you've gone and done it, huh" price chuckles but it's not the one you're accustomed to. no, this one was was sharp and cold. this meant business

and for all their hard work you, of course, spoil them. which also turns soap and gaz into little children opening presents when you get them something they had been dying for, pouncing on you for a hug

price chuckling and telling you that you didn't need to do this but you obviously bought something for him too. his heart melting as he looks back and forth from his present and then to you. bringing you in for a gentle hug and a forehead kiss

ghost watching with a roll of an eye but a hint of a chuckle, his eyes on you the whole time. though he thinks he's being neutral, you note how his pupils dilate when he's by you

for a look that's only reserved for you only, "that's my girl"

[gloomwitchwrites]

The 141 boys and the TikTok trend “everybody knows that I’m a good girl officer”

Firstly, I want to say that in this house, we say "fuck the police (derogatory)" every single day. However, I will indulge in this instance because it's our 141 boys and I think the trend with them would be absolutely smoldering. But I will change it up slightly, and pull from my Bodyguard!141 AU Post as well as lean into a security detail aspect for this one.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, dirty thoughts, flirting, secret relationship

Word Count: 1.5k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

Price adjusts the ear piece in his right ear.

The blasted thing doesn’t fit right. It keeps slipping. It’s irritating but it’s manageable. Not like Price is running anywhere. At least, he doesn’t plan on moving too quickly. His job is to stand and observe. To make look after a certain MP’s daughter, and to take her back to the hotel when she tells you she’s ready to leave.

You are no stranger. Far from it.

And it goes far beyond the grounds of appropriate behavior.

Price has completely stuck his foot in it, bedding you when he isn’t supposed to. Stealing kisses in dark corners, and fucking you behind closed doors. He was hired by your father to look after you, and instead, John has taken it much further than that.

But he doesn’t fucking regret it.

Not at all.

John adjusts his ear piece and scans the room from left to right. You’re not in sight but that doesn’t bother him. This ballroom is packed full of rich schmucks who couldn’t give a shit about him.

He scans the room again, and this time he finds you.

You’re walking toward him, hips moving in a sultry sway that steals John’s resolve. You’re gorgeous. Perfect. And he can’t stop staring.

The corner of your mouth quirks with amusement, and John straightens his shoulders, making himself appear bigger. He needs to look professional. He needs to look like he’s not thinking about all the ways he wants to fuck you.

But it’s hard to focus, and when you approach, you glance over your shoulder at him, words leaving your mouth that John doesn’t entirely catch at first. Your foot pops in the air, and the friend you’re walking with giggles, her hand pressed to her painted lips.

Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.

A good girl.

Yes. You are.

You’re John’s good girl.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

High-stakes missions have always been part of Kyle’s life. It is what he knows. What he thrives on. But between the missions, Kyle keeps working, and not with SAS.

Kyle mostly signs up for security detail at different places around London. Sometimes he might work as a bouncer for a club, or be monitoring people entering a music venue. Sometimes the gigs are swanky, and sometimes they’re not. Kyle doesn’t really mind as long as he’s paid.

That’s the whole point.

He’s saving. Wants to buy a house. Maybe find someone to settle down with. Life is going by fast. He needs some stability amongst all the violence.

And tonight? Tonight, he’s nothing more than a glorified security guard.

He looks the part in all-black tactical gear, and he isn’t the only one. There is an entire group of them all lined up in front of large windows, creating a bit of barrier. The event coordinator expected protests. All there is are a handful of people across the street with signs. They’re harmless.

Kyle doesn’t pay them any mind.

He does watch the regular people walking by on his side of the road. Some people are here for the event and others are just passing through.

Standing on the corner nearby is a small group of young women. They’re all dressed up like they’re heading to the clubs. Kyle pretends he’s not looking, but that would be a lie. There is one he keeps glancing at.

You’re fucking stunning. A beauty.

But Kyle has to remain calm. Aloof. He’s not here for you or anyone except the job at hand.

“Go over there.”

“I can’t!”

“Girl. He is so cute. Do it.”

Kyle casually turns his head, only to find you striding toward him. His throat drops into his stomach, and you waltz past him, pausing just to his right, flipping your hair, and batting your eyelashes at him and then your friends.

“Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

Your friends scream, and then you hurriedly run back to them as if you’ve done something you shouldn’t.

A good girl? Sure you are, love.

Kyle smirks and looks away, doing his best to hide a growing smile.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon sits in the driver seat of a large, black SUV. His fingers are itching for a cigarette. He needs the smoke—to feel the burn. To rid himself of some of this agitation.

It’s not annoyance. It’s not frustration. And it sure as shit isn’t anger.

No. Simon has a fucking rager in his pants, and his thoughts are filled with images of you. You—who he’s supposed to be protecting. Escorting you to and from events, pushing back the crowd, and keeping a firm lock on where you are at all times.

The black dress you’re wearing tonight is made of flimsy material. It clings to every curve and swell. Simon is hungry—a feral animal that couldn’t stop stalking you throughout the event.

Now, he’s about to take you back to your hotel. And he knows you’ll invite him in. He knows that the little black dress you wear will be nothing but a pile on the floor in due time.

But this need in his bones isn’t just Simon’s fault. You were a fucking tease all evening. You were bad. Openly flirting with other men in front of him, drinking more than you should have, and genuinely being a little terror to his sanity. All this behavior will only get you punishment. A punishment he’s happy to deal out once he has you behind a closed door.

A car door clicks, and Simon glances up, expecting to see you slide into the backseat. You’re not there. You’re next to him. In the front passenger seat.

“What the fuck are you doing?” asks Simon, his knuckles white as he grips the steering wheel.

You shrug and settle in. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply, leaning on the middle armrest.

Simon can smell your perfume. “Buckle up,” he growls, and you do so casually, as if you don’t hear his irritation.

He pulls out into traffic, and the moment the two of you are clear of the building, Simon feels your hand on his thigh moving dangerously close to his dick.

“This bad behavior needs to stop.”

Your body shifts and you sing-song the next words out of your mouth. “Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

The words are bit slurred. You’re completely pissed, and Simon cannot help but laugh. No punishment then. Not tonight at least.

But tomorrow?

Absolutely.

John "Soap" MacTavish

This isn’t Johnny’s usual job, but it’s easy work.

Usually, hired security and local police take care of concerts and sporting events, but the military has been called in for this one, and Johnny is fine with that. Again, it’s easy work, and they’re paying him more for it.

He stands in one spot, scans the crowd, and acts casual while looking downright intimidating. The intimidation isn’t hard. They have him completely decked out in all-black tactical and balaclava included. All you can see of Johnny are his eyes.

It’s fun, actually. When he put it all on, he pretended to be Simon, only to receive a swat upside the head for it from the man himself.

Johnny has his hands casually resting on his bulletproof vest. No one is really looking at him, and those that do quickly look away. But there is one he can’t stop looking at.

You’re so damn cute, and you can’t stop glancing at him either. You’re with friends, and you keep smiling in his direction. If this were any other night, Johnny would approach you, flirt a bit, maybe even ask for your number. Might even take you home with him if you were open to it.

But Johnny is on the job, and he can’t afford to do that.

As you move closer to him through the crowd, one of your friends keeps saying something to you, moving their hands as if urging you to do something. Johnny isn’t sure what, but he’s curious. You don’t look like danger, and there is nothing about your demeanor that says that you’re looking to cause trouble.

Maybe it’s the balaclava. That seems to be a thing now.

As you approach, there is a pop of your foot, a quick flip of your hair, and a stunning smile. Your friend holds up her phone and you turn away from Johnny briefly to say “Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, officer.”

I bet you fucking are, love.

Your friends giggle with pleasure, and you quickly move away from him but not before you glance over your shoulder one last time, mouthing a silent “thank you.”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@arrozyfrijoles23 @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @vrb8im

[variety-fangirl]

Thinking about bodyguard!tsf141 x rich daughter reader. I'm imagining that Taskforce 141 has come back from their missions and decided to retire early after having many conversations about being done and just wanting to relax. They've done their fair share of time and sacrificed so much that, let's be honest, they fucking deserve it. Eventually, they leave and settle down in a nice home built to house the four behemoth sized men, out in the middle of nowhere and away from society. They have trucks to go grocery shopping when needed and use their spare time to pick up a hobby of interest to them each. But let's face it, they would all go stir crazy after so many years of being in wars and doing the unthinkable. Quiet is not something their used to.

So, they decided to pick up a job suited to them all that wouldn't get boring. They decide on being bodyguards, special trained bodyguards for the elites, and rich snobs. Do they like the rich? No, no, they do not. But, it's a familiar ground of some kind, and they'll feel most comfortable in familiarity. Hey, at least the pay will be good. Not that they need it, but every little helps.

So, they get everything set up and make a name for themselves. A big name at that. Where the top dogs notice and they become popular and sought after in the field. I mean, it really didn't take long or a lot of hard work. Their good at what they do, and they know it, too. So good, in fact, that one of the richest men in the country hears word of them and requests a meeting. After all, being as rich as he is, you make enemies. Powerful enemies that are not afraid to go to the extreme to get what they want, your empire that you've built on drugs, money, and the blood of said enemies and others.

They were, of course, expecting the security detail to be for himself, but when they turn up at said meeting, the guy is surrounded by guards. Big ones at that. Not as big as them but close. He's secured to the nine, as is his home. So naturally their confused. If its not for him, then for whom?

That's when your father explains about you. The prize of his life, his beautiful and single (unprotected as he put it), daughter. One who is headstrong, stubborn, and stands her ground. Only agreeing to have a security detail if you get to choose them. Naturally, when your father had shown you lists upon lists of potential bodyguards, you snided at them all. None of them had the experience you were looking for, ones that you could genuinely trust with your life. And wouldn't try to control you like your fathers choices had or reported your every little move to him. So when you stumbled upon their profiles, you immediately knew they were the right choice.

Upon hearing your name called by your father, you entered the room. You were pleasantly surprised by the sheer size of them all, overpowering and swallowing the expensive sofa they sat upon. You didn't try to hide your smile. Instead, you kept your eyes on them and studied their every move. You were entranced by them. Their big, burly, and rough exteriors of pure muscles and scars. Men who'd been through and seen things that people should not, their eyes haunted by the ghosts of those they had killed or had been killed from their mistakes. They were everything you wanted and didn't know you needed.

And they were not expecting you to walk into the room. You whose face was like a beautiful angel, soft and gentle, and a presence that commanded the room, but eyes that held such horrors. Eyes of a soul who had suffered and witnessed things you should not have. Someone who, from the moment they set their sights upon you, gave them an overwhelming rush and need to protect you.

"We'll take the job."

[xo-codbby]

bodyguard!simon x popstar!reader

was very adamant when price had offered the job at first, scoffing and frowning at the thought of it

"i ain't playing no glorified babysitter for a spoilt little rich girl" "you'll get paid 6 figures* ".... when do i start?"

this wasn't his scene, he was used to explosions and helicopters flying and weapons firing. fans screaming and cheering is where he absolutely drew the line

too many times have his fight or flight instincts have been triggered when someone wanted a signature or a picture

you've had to tell him to put the gun away on more than several occasions while the other person is staring up at him with pure shock and fear

you hadn't exactly been so pleased with the arrangements, any questions you asked had resulted in a grunt or a shrug

he practically pulled you along if you walked too slow/in the wrong direction

he was an impenetrable wall, broad and muscular with no emotions. you both tolerated each other and that was that

he barely acknowledged you unless he had to, wearing a black suit paired with his balaclava and sunglasses

you didn't even know how he looked like until several months in

though you don't know when the lines started to blur between the two of you, he couldn't tell you when he started to care

calling you a variety of nicknames, mostly to piss you off

"what's the matter popstar? music's too damn loud for you?"

but he'd 100% unironically be calling you it instead of your name, a name that just stuck

"attagirl, you give 'em a show to remember popstar"

just so completely entranced the few times he watches you perform when he's not working in the back

eyes completely glued to your body, watching you sing so effortlessly and move your body accordingly

it takes him everything not to rip your backup dancers from your body, why should they be touching you like that??

when he catches you ill from performing too much, he's very adamant you put your health first

"careful, don't blow those pretty lungs too hard" his thumb grazes the column of your neck so tenderly, you can practically hear your heartbeat

it takes you everything to mutter a soft reply, looking away

soap and gaz are in shock when they find out you're the woman ghost is babysitting guarding

the same person that knew their favourite bands/singers and spoke to them too? sign them up too

you give them the inside scoop and suddenly they're your new best friends

you've got three bodyguards instead of the single one you signed for but you don't mind so much

though ghost reminds you that it's him first and then the other two, you're all he needs sweetheart

he makes sure to remind you every so often

cue soap and gaz screeching when pics were leaked and you and ghost looked a little too handsy

[lovehotelreservation]

chapter one: hi it's me you're all in danger summary: worldwide fame and a political tie or two has you--one of the biggest pop stars around--in dire need of reliable protection. thankfully you have four ex-military retirees to entrust your wellbeing to. but what happens when that protection turns possessive? rating: pg-13 (rating will increase across certain chapters) pairing: f!reader/task force 141

as a longtime charli xcx fan, can't say i expected my brat autumn to be spent writing about the cod mfs 😭😭

-----------------

10 AM. London. Shangri-La. Hotel bar.

Somehow, being surrounded by opulence, prestige, and elegance made particular four men currently seated in the back of the space feel a bit out of place.

But they were here on a mission.

Or rather, a job now.

The days of being out on the field in camo fatigues were of the past. Now they were all seated together in suits–black and white, jacket, tie, pants and polished shoes–gin and lemon water on the table.

There was a bit of restlessness in the air and it was starting to spill out in the conversations shared amongst the four.

“Simon, would it literally kill ya to show yer mouth, man? Dae ya want the lass to think yer sick as a first impression?”

“A bit of mystery could be fun, no?”

“Are ya Scooby fuckin’ Doo or somethin?!”

“Johnny, can you keep it down? Your mohawk’s already gotten us enough looks as it is.”

“And what’s so wrong with a lil’ business casual, Kyle?!”

“Can you muppets keep it down!?”

The harsh lash of Price’s tongue had postures straightened and lips hushed.

With a sigh, he brought his fingers to his temple, wondering how he managed to save the world over and over again with these three. Still, his eyes flickered to his watch as he checked the time, a conversation from a month ago coming to mind.

“Price.”

A hand was extended out to him. Fluorescent lights at the American embassy in Paris hung above. Murmurs of French and English lingered in the air as the day proceeded.

Price grinned, returning the exchange with a firm handshake. “Miller. Good to see you standing, old friend.”

Moments later the conversation was held at Miller’s office, a familiar place during the times Price had visited. What stood out to him most was the newly framed photo of Miller and his blushing bride, Priscilla.

A miraculous matrimony all things considered.

Miller, an American ambassador. Priscilla, an activist whose loud and mighty voice helped push for change within socio-political and environmental spaces.

It wasn’t as if it was absolutely impossible for the two to meet–rather, it was just the fact they met after being held hostage alongside other world leaders and activists during a goodwill gala held at Berlin. Terror wished to deliver a haunting message to all of the world, with similar sieges held at other massive events, but thankfully the work of 141 and other allies blocked the reception.

Price glanced down at Miller’s desk, where a few pictures of a glamorous woman were splayed across files: a pop star by the name of Dollface. Formerly part of beloved girl group 4EVA, now setting the music scene alight with impeccable music production, godly vocals, and captivating choreography.

Or so he’s heard.

Right beside her was a clipped out headline from a newspaper:

Glastonbury Saved! Tragedy Averted from Terrorist Threat!

A job well done–courtesy of a certain phantom soldier.

“–I know your days of military campaigns are over, but this has been tearing Priscilla apart,” Miller sighed morosely. “While I know this is the fault of no one and she understands that change in the world comes at a cost, the fact that terrorists would target her niece’s festival performance has been haunting her.”

“Revolution does not come easy, that’s for certain,” Price mused as he glanced over at his friend’s face with an affirming nod. “Even so, it’s something still worth fighting for.”

Miller sighed out in agreement. “Of course.”

“So then.” Adjusting his posture, Price then continued, his tone light, “What can I and a few recently retired soldiers do for you, mate?”

His shoulders relaxing, Miller then reached down for one of the photos of the pop star, pushing it over towards Price. “Watch her. Protect her, please. She’s been an anxious mess ever since Glastonbury.” Gazing down at the newspaper headline clipping, he continued, “Her career’s at such a critical point and her first solo world tour’s been delayed enough as it is. Pressure’s everywhere–label, fans, the media. I know she wants more than anything to finally move forward. But–”

Gingerly picking up the photo, Price took in every single detail of the woman.

Of you.

Turning his focus back to Miller, he grinned, brows raising. “A bit of Price Protection and Co. could do wonders, yeah?”

“You’d be doing miracles, friend” was the response received, along with a vigorous nod.

Price held out his hand.

“It’s a deal.”

And now, the gang was all here, even though the gang was currently driving Price up the wall. Still, if there was anyone who he trusted to get the job done on behalf of a dear old friend, it was Gaz, Ghost, and Soap.

Or rather, from here on out: Kyle, Simon and Johnny.

It didn’t hurt that the gig paid quite handsomely–your label desperately wanted you to get back on stage one way or another. Since the Glastonbury incident, you’ve since been spending your days in London, far too afraid to leave anywhere. The plan was to slowly draw you out of your shell by planning all promotional endeavors around the UK before you would travel the world as intended.

Before any of that however, the first key matter of business is for the five of you to meet together.

10:15 AM. London. Shangri-La. Hotel bar.

“What do you lot think? Full glam or lowkey?” Kyle spoke up, now peering over to look at Johnny’s phone, who had brought up one of your music videos.

Price glanced over, seeing slick skin, big curls, gyrating hips, rouge lips, white heels, and sparkling eyes.

Such visuals were definitely not on Miller’s desk when discussing the job.

“Like right now?” Johnny queried back.

“Lowkey without question.” Simon folded his arms across his chest, his eyes peeking at Johnny’s phone, his expression reflective.

A sudden tap on the back of Price's shoulder just a moment later soon caught his attention. 

“Mr. Price…?”

He immediately turned back, the others following suit.

Johnny’s eyes widened, immediately switching off his phone to shove into his pocket.

Lowkey was correct.

A cap, oversized t-shirt with shorts hidden beneath, hair down, tennis shoes, a pair of sunglasses that were soon slipped off.

The contrast between who they saw on screen to who they were seeing now couldn’t be any more apparent.

Still, even by the way you stood before him, posture shrunken back slightly, eyes a bit downcast, voice softer than the usual bubbly vocals of your music, there was this grace, this aura that you exuded–one that spoke of a true bonafide performer rather than a mere average person.

Smiling warmly, Price held his hand out towards you for you to shake. “That would be me, dear.”

“Uncle Miller’s told me lots about you.” You smiled, bringing your hand up to take his.

So much smaller than his, he noted to himself, chuckling as he responded with, “I hope they’re my finer moments.”

Giggling in response, you affirmed, “As he said, only the best unclassified stuff. I’m Doll–” You quickly stopped yourself, opting to give your first name instead.

“Face pretty like a doll’s still,” Johnny murmured over to Kyle, who nodded in agreement.

Simon didn’t say anything but instead allowed his arms to rest by his sides, continuing to quietly observe you.

A world-renowned pop star with four former soldiers tasked to serve as her bodyguards.

Should be an easy enough job.

-----------------

thank you for reading !!! i know i tend to not really do multi-chapter pieces but idk the ghost of brat summer took over me after seeing a clip of soap and simon banter so i've been genuinely locked in with writing out this tale 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

subsequent chapters are going to be loosely tied together but i hope you enjoy my take on cod yumejo with this pop star otome 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

next chapter's up next friday !!! 🤸‍♀️🤸‍♀️

[ink-n-shadow]

PARTY LIKE A ROCKSTAR

𝜗𝜚 the one where you're a rockstar and ghost is your bodyguard

𝜗𝜚 pairing: bodyguard!Simon "Ghost" Riley x rockstar!reader (link to all works in this au) 𝜗𝜚 cw: alternative universe (majority non-canon), strong language, maybe suggestive content (but i think that's a stretch) 𝜗𝜚 note: the way this au!headcanon has been living rent free inside of my head for weeks (might have to make this into a series o_O)

⤷ you were one of the biggest up-and-coming names in the music industry. that being said－you needed the best protection that could be offered.

⤷ enter ghost－an ex-british army soldier that your manager hired right after your first big break to take you to and from a local concert. he kept his face covered by some stupid skull mask and wore a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to expose the countless tattoos that swirled around his forearms.

⤷ ghost would refuse to tell you his real name too. but he was quiet, protective, intimidating, and really good at his job－so your manager kept him around.

⤷ now you were much more well known, meaning ghost's job of keeping you alive and away from grabbing hands or flashing pap lights only got more difficult. but at least the pay also increased.

⤷ while the conversations were brief and often short-lived, you both had grown to somewhat enjoy the constant presence of one another. even if you pushed ghost's buttons and tried to stretch out away from his grasp.

"Aye－fuck did I say about tryin' to leave the venue without me? You're gonna get yourself bloody murdered out there."

⤷ would most definitely have a pet name to call you instead of your real name/stage name

"I said get behind me, dove. How am I gonna protect your pretty little face from behind ya?"

⤷ ghost would most definitely sit in the security area or stage wings at your concerts just to watch you tear up the stage. he liked watching you do the thing you loved the most－performing. but again, he'd never admit how much he enjoyed it.

"Yeah, dove. I watched you out there tonight. What－you want me to give you a gold fuckin' star for your performance? It was 'lright, not the best I've ever seen."

⤷ he has definitely taken you home inebriated more times than he could count. and you definitely get handsy and flirty when you're not sober. but he always made sure you got home safe and sound.

"Aye! Keep your bloody hands to yourself－no, m'not holding your hand right now, dove. You're plastered...don't even know your own fuckin' name."

⤷ you were definitely a soft spot for ghost, but he'd never admit it. he barely admitted it to himself.

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[lunarw0rks]

Old Bones | Masterlist

A/N: where you'll find all chapters of my new fic 🕊 comment if you want on the taglist <3

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ warnings are at the top of chapters!

| main masterlist // ao3 ver. // playlist

'*•.¸♡ [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six] [Chapter Seven] [Chapter Eight] [Chapter Nine] [Chapter Ten] [Chapter Eleven] [Chapter Twelve] [Epilogue] ♡¸.•*'

: ̗̀➛ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[im-poltergeist]

Towers and Thorns (Fanfic vers)

tags: bodyguard!Ghost x royal!reader, older Ghost, first fic, might be crappy idk, multiple parts, might be nsfw down the line, english is not my first language so feel free to correct me. 🌻

Part 1 🌻 Part 2 🌻 Part 3

"Do you have to keep bending the rules", he asks from the doorway to your room. You scoff at the question.

"This is hardly bending the rules. The skirt is just above knee length", you answer, glaring at the balaclava clad man stood before you.

"Not sure I agree with that, your highness", his cold eyes scanning your figure. You groan and shove him out the door. Whats the matter with him anyway.

You walk over to your closet and stare at the skirts. Apparently the light blue one you had on was "inappropriate". You pick out a white, patterned one instead and hope that it is acceptable. You roll your eyes. The bodyguard you had before him, before Ghost, wouldn't have batted an eye at that skirt. But at the same time he was off fucking a maid in some linnen closet while Marshall ambushed you in that corridor and kissed you. The memory makes you shudder.

Marshall seems to think that he is entitled to you. Just because your parents didn't say an outright no when his parents talked about marriage, he's disgusting.

You tried to tell your father that you didn't want the kiss and that Marshall kissed you without your consent but he wouldn't have it. "Think about how this could reflect on your mother reputation. Sneaking off, kissing boys." That's what he had to say about the matter. Speaking about you as if you were a young, rebellious teenager. You are, in fact, an adult. You had been for a good while now. You had gone through your teen years without any major scandals. The same couldn't be said for your cousins.

You open the door and are faced with arms crossed over a broad chest clad by a black t-shirt, tight enough to reveal strong shoulders and muscular arms, and cold eyes staring down at you from the gap in his balaclava.

"Better", you ask, eyes narrowing.

"Much", he replies and steps aside.

Ghost opens the door to the dining hall for you and you nod a thank you to him. Your father is sat near the end of the table,, reading a newspaper and drinking coffee. He looks up as you enter.

"Good morning Dad. Good morning Gaz", you say to the dark-skinned man stood behind him.

"Important day today", your father replies, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Im aware", you sit down at the chair opposite his. You scoop a spoonful of scrambled eggs and another of bacon down on to your plate.

"Make sure to behave. We don't need the President or the American press to get the wrong impression", he reminds you for what feels like the hundredth time this week.

"I know", you acknowledge, eyes fixed on your plate. Fork moving the eggs around aimlessly.

"Good. We can't afford a scandal", your father adds and rises from his chair. Hand nudging your shoulder as he walks past you and out of the door. Gaz a few steps behind him. The door shuts with a dull thud. You drop your fork on to your plate with a clink and put your head in your hands. Why does he always always talk about you like you're an accident waiting to happen. You feel Ghosts eyes burning in to your back.

"You don't have to just stand there, you know. You can sit down", you turn your head to look at him. His brown eyes meeting yours before walking slowly over towards the chair next to yours. Pulling it out and turning it so that he faces you. He sits down. Arms crossed over his chest and one of his leggs resting on his knee. You pour some water in to your glass and do the same to his. Ghosts eyes still boring in to yours. You sigh.

"Whats the matter", you ask him. Something clearly occupying his mind.

"Do you have a drinking problem or something, your highness", he questions you.

"What? No", you shriek. How could he think such a thing.

"A guy just kissed me at the last event and my dad thinks Im going to go into a late teenage rebellion. Besides, you would have notised if I had a drinking problem by now", you continue shaking your head.

"Guess you're right", he replies. His voice having and unreadable tone. Your eyes move towards the grandfather clock at the other end of the room. It reads half past ten. Shit. You stand up and the chair almost tips behind you. Ghost rises, eyes darting around the room to find the source of your sudden move.

"Im gonna be late", You clarify and hurry out the door. Ghost a few steps behind you.

You make it to the front door with less than a minute to spare. Your parents are stood talking and turn around when you approach with quick steps. You come to a halt behind them. Smiling at your mother. She smiles back and turns towards the men beside the door. Gaz and Price are on either side of the door. Ready to follow their queens order. Your mother nods to them and the doors open. You face the light erupting from the gap and put on a smile that you hope looks natural. The forgotten breakfast on your plate makes itself reminded as your stomach churns. You feel Ghosts eyes burn into the back of your head and you step outside into the light.

[kalihien]

In dire need of help here! Does anyone know where that one fic of ghost being a bodyguard to a princess reader. It had something to do with light in the title I'm not sure but the last part of it I remember was them being in a cabin and kissing for the first time or something like that

[heavenbarnes]

All of the below is 18+

DO NOT repost my work

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

simon and johnny like to share - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon:

older bf!simon’s dick pics - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon’s nut video with sound - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and price’s nudes - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and johnny watch videos - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon shares with the 141 - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and his obedience - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and cockwarming - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and unsolicited nudes - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and screentime - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon the handyman - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and dry humping - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and phone sex - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and face riding - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and biting - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon impressing the 141 - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon home from deployment- Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and the 141 at the pub - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon being called old man - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and the guard dogs - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon the bodyguard - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon headcanons - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon touch starved - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon fixes his car - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and period head - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and riding abs - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and free use - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and neediness - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and the football club - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and the grey sweatpants - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon settles down - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon in the garden - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon in the bath - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon gets a footjob- Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon gets another footjob - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon eats ass - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon gets peed on - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and chatty sex - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon feels younger - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon’s love language - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon can’t get it up - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and his struggles - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon in the drive thru - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and the breeding kink - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon gets drunk - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and his skincare - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon but blue collar - Simon Riley x reader

weirdo older bf!simon meet cute - Simon Riley x reader

weirdo older bf!simon decides - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon actual meet cute - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon first date - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and his nice manners - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon talks about his family - Simon Riley x reader

weirdo older bf!simon and the cameras - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and the dinner - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and the insecurities- Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon when johnny comes to stay - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon prone bone - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon in dress uniform - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon on the driveway - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon’s jacket - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon and nipple biting - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon fucking you in his jersey - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon isn’t the breadwinner - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon is a dirty old man - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon the house husband - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon the gun dog - Simon Riley x reader

older bf!simon goes along - Simon Riley x reader

weirdo plumber!simon - Simon Riley x reader

Captain John Price:

older bf!price and simon’s nudes - John Price x reader

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

johnny and simon watch videos - Johnny MacTavish x reader

johnny and simon like to share - Johnny MacTavish x reader

[7s3ven]

Hear me out guys… retired soldiers now bodyguards! task force 141 x spoiled heiress! reader

( just an idea )

You’re like, a nutcase. Your father adores you but sometimes you can go out of control. Like for instance, the time you jumped off a cliff into the ocean below to impress a boy.

Yeah, your father wasn’t very impressed with your behaviour.

On top of your recklessness, your father has enemies who always seem to target you. You’re his obvious weakness and he can’t spend another moment of anxiously wondering if you’re okay while he’s working.

So, he hires the best bodyguards he can find. And they turn out to be retired soldiers from an elite unit known as Task Force 141. Perfect.

You don’t take kindly to being continuously followed by four large men who don’t even try to be subtle. It’s not like taking care of you is easy either. You’re a troublemaker, you always have been since your mother left you for another family (your reckless tendencies tend to stem from the fact that you’re causing trouble to get her to notice you again).

Task Force 141 has had enough when you attempt to sneak out of the house to a party on a Friday night. But it seems apart from shopping and acting like a brat, you aren’t good at anything else.

They hear a crash and someone swearing loudly before you roll off the roof, landing in the bushes right outside the window where the four men have a perfect view of you. They were watching a football came until you interrupted.

Jonny bursts into laughter, slapping Gaz out of amusement, while Price fetches you and forces you back inside.

“You know, your house has a back door for a reason.” Simon utters as he cleans your scratches but there’s a mocking indication to his tone.

“Yeah but like, going out the window felt more cool.” You argue back, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Was it cool when you face planted into the ground?”

You can only pout in annoyance.

From then on, they don’t leave you alone, especially not on Friday nights. You have to deal with being squished between Price and Simon as they watch a boring documentary on… fish? Jonny definitely chose that one.

But hey, you aren’t exactly complaining. Being stuck between the two men means being able to feel their muscles and smell their strong cologne. You tolerate the four men more after they cleaned your scratches from landing in a bush and carried you to your bed.

And so what if you catch feelings? Anybody else in your position would have done the same.

“We can’t date ya, lovie. We’re too old and we work for your dad.”

Do you care? Not really.

“My dad literally hired you because I was a troublemaker. Ya think I give a shit? ‘Sides, the older the better.”

Jonny jabs a thumb in Price’s direction, “Even the captain? You should’ve seen ‘im in his prime. Way better looking.” He hands you a picture that he just happens to have of Price.

You glance at it then lift your head to look at Price. Your lips curve into a teasing smile. “Yeah, you’re right. What happened, Captain?” You joke.

INCORRECT QUOTES FOR THE LAUGHS:

Kidnapper, negotiating with TF 141: We have the annoying heiress. Give us ten thousand dollars and they will be returned to you unharmed

Y/N: Whoa, whoa, wait, you think I’m only worth ten thousand dollars. MAKE IT ONE MILLION–

Price: Y/N, STOP

Simon: Can I be frank with you guys?

Jonny: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is gonna help.

Gaz: Can I still be Gaz?

Y/N: Shh, let Frank speak.

Gaz: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?

Simon: *turning to Y/N* How tall are you?

Price: Where's Simon, Gaz, and Y/N?

Jonny: They're playing hide and seek.

Price: Where?

Jonny: I don't think you get how this game works.

Y/N: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?

Simon: Several traffic violations.

Gaz: Three counts of resisting arrest.

Jonny: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks.

Price: Also, that’s not our car.

[xo-cod]

Bodyguard!Ghost just scrolling thru his socials and it's just full of clips of his popstar!girlie answering questions from interviews on the main inspiration of her new songs/album, trying to be sneaky on hiding how she feels for him <3

Bonus points if it's Gaz or Soap sending him the clips in their groupchat going 'dis u?'

wait nonnie aww i love this so bad 🥺🩷🥺🩷

popstar!reader getting interviewed and getting flustered when interviewers ask about the new album <333 you're careful not to reveal any names but you can't hide the soft chuckle or the small smile that grows when they try to find out the person :")

the way bg!ghost would be stuck in a trance watching the videos again and again, his heart absolutely melting into pieces at your smile, who knew someone could look so damn pretty laughing? him secretly liking all the videos too on a priv account, #1 fan frfr 🤭

he listened to your new album, especially the song you wrote about him. he listened to it on repeat, half the views are from him pls. he can't help but chuckle when he looks at the comments, everyone trying to decipher who it's for but it's only a secret between the two of you

that is until gaz and soap heard and them instigating everything LMAO. blowing up the gc with their own conspiracy theories "THAT'S WHY SHE SANG THAT PART!!!" "SOAP YOURE A BLOODY GENIUS!" and ghost either replying with "🖕", "👍" or just straight up reading their messages. price asking both men to stop harassing the poor man and ghost leaving the gc only to be added right back by soap every single time 😭😭

[gloomwitchwrites]

What If 141...

You gave us that amazing chase scene in Dangerous Pursuit....how about for the other 141? You can include Price again of course :) I'd only ask that it be consensual. Thanks!

Oh, the chase scene from Dangerous Pursuit. That was a fun one to write. If any of y'all are interested in that one, you can find it HERE. Let's just say that it involved mud, Price dragging Reader back to the safehouse, and then forcing her into the shower with him. Things...happen. (hehe)

To be fair, there are actual chase scenes with lots of running, and simply walking very fast to maybe escape. Three of the four are more fast walking, while the fourth is more "traditional." Kyle's is the mildest. Simon's is straight up CNC and involves more of a "stalking" aspect. Price's is all about stubborn, bratty Reader and is a Bodyguard AU, and Johnny's is the only genuine "chase" through the woods.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: CNC, Primal, Stalking, knifeplay, brief pussy slapping, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, swearing, Bodyguard AU, arguments, rough sex, semi-public sex, established relationship, secret relationship, spanking, rough kissing, light breeding, possessive behavior

Word Count: 4.7k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“I told your father that I’d take you home.”

“And I want to stay, John.” He sternly stares back, unamused. “What’s the issue?” you shrug. “Why can’t I stay?”

“You know I don’t ask questions.”

“No,” you reply. “You just do as your told.”

John grimaces. “And you do as I tell you.”

“That only works in the bedroom, John,” you hiss, lowering your voice.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

You’re being stubborn, but this event is fun. Most of the time, your father doesn’t bring you along to work banquets or charity parties. When he does, you’re briefly shown about, and then quickly whisked away. This time, you were allowed to stay.

“I’m staying.”

John shakes his head. “Can’t do that. Can’t disobey direct orders from your father.”

The two of you stand in a small side hallway directly left of the main banquet hall. Only a few people loiter about, but they are closer to the main foyer. None of them are giving either of you any attention.

“No,” you retort.

“No?” asks John, slowly.

“I’m. Staying.” You emphasize each word, and when John doesn’t reply, you start to turn away to head back into the banquet hall.

But John has other plans. Grabbing your wrist, he pulls, returning you to the stop you just occupied. He takes a single step into your space, staring intently into your eyes.

“We. Are. Leaving,” he says in the exact same way.

A sharp reply forms on your tongue, ready to be unleashed. John knows you, though, and continues on, interrupting before you can even begin. “Now, be a good girl, and let’s go.”

“Fuck you,” you mutter, yanking your arm out of his grasp.

Pushing past John, you purposefully shoulder-check him before storming down the long hall. There is an emergency exit at the other end. Bursting through it, you nearly trip on the top step, but manage to right yourself at the last second.

John calls your name but you ignore him. It is your only defense. It’s not like you can make it far with him on your tail.

Passing the second landing, you head for the next short flight of stairs, but John is already on you, grabbing your upper arm.

“Wait,” he commands, but you blatantly disregard the order. “Stop!”

Keeping your back to him does nothing. John gives your arm another tug, and this time he puts his strength behind it, shoving you up against the concrete wall. His hips press against yours, his large hand coming to rest beside your head.

“Don’t make this hard. Don’t run.” His voice is sweet, and that stirs a need in your belly.

You do soften, lips parting to receive his. John goes in for the claiming, meeting you with equal softness. Heat rushes to your core. With a hand between your bodies, you palm John through his pants. Rubbing his erection, he groans softly. The sound of it sends a bolt of pleasure straight to your pussy.

Then, you squeeze. A little bit harder than you usually would.

“Fuck,” he mutters, breaking the kiss.

It’s enough to slip away—enough for you to break out of his grasp and flee down the stairs. John follows. It isn’t until you’re at the bottom floor and exiting into the parking garage that he catches up.

“Let go of me,” you bite, but John ignores you, grasping your upper arm in a vice grip.

He guides you toward the black SUV the two of you arrived in. John retrieves the key fob and unlocks it, the car’s headlights coming on.

“Get in,” he mutters, opening the rear passenger door.

He unceremoniously shoves you into the backseat.

But he doesn’t shut the door. He doesn’t walk around to the front to get in the driver side.

Instead, John follows in after you, slamming the car door shut behind him.

Your next words are lost as his hand wraps around your throat and he pushes you onto your back. John’s kisses are not sweet. They are rough. Claiming. You open for him, taking each one, your need for him spiking ever higher.

“Told you to behave,” he mutters, hand coming down hard on the inside of your thigh.

You yelp, and then you’re yanked upright into his lap. John adjusts your position, spreading you wide over his thighs.

The front of his pants is open, belt to the side, everything shoved down enough to reveal this thick cock. “You’re going to sit on my cock, and fuck yourself on it. Yeah?”

You stare him down. Unmoving. It’s not that you don’t want to—because you’d fucking love to—but you’re irritated with him. You want to be a bit stubborn in this.

Gripping your thighs, John lifts just enough to push your thong to the side, line you up, and bring you down on his cock. You’re immediately impaled, and you both groan loudly. His hand grabs the back of your neck, fingers lightly digging into your skin.

“Fucking do it, love. Or we’ll sit like this all fucking night.”

Planting your hands against the back of the seat, you start to rock and roll, lifting and coming down again.

“Too slow,” he murmurs. “Fuck yourself.”

Fingers digging into the rough fabric, you angle forward a bit, engage the correct muscles, lightly bouncing on his cock.

“That’s it, love,” groans John. “Just like that.”

You set a steady rhythm, and John releases his hold, placing his hands off to the side, deliberately not touching you. But you notice his fingers flexing, like he itches to do it.

“You can follow direction,” he murmurs.

“Shut the fuck up, John,” you moan, your own pleasure building with every second.

But you need more. It simply isn’t enough. Reaching down, you seek your clit.

“No.” John snags your wrist and raises your hand to eye-level. He brings it to his mouth, sucking your slickness off your fingers. “Not until I fill you with my cum.”

“John,” you whimper.

“After,” he repeats, and you return your hand to the seat behind him.

You want your end, but to find it, you have to give John what he wants. With each upward tilt of your hips, you lightly engage your pelvic floor, squeezing him.

“Fuck,” he groans, elongated the vowel.

You repeat it a few more times until John’s eyelids become slightly heavy. Then, you’re frantic. Desperate. The car might be rocking erratically but you’d hardly care. The need to come is driving you on.

John’s hands go to your thighs, and then they squeeze—hard. Guiding, he meets you thrust for thrust, until all of the control is his, and John has you sealed to him, taking every drop.

The two of you pant in the dark car. There is sweat on your brow and on the back of your neck.

Pushing your dress out of the way, John reveals your pussy and how his cock sits inside you. He’s not looking at where your bodies meet. He’s staring into your eyes, thumb poised at your clit.

“You followed my orders,” he murmurs with the first stroke of his thumb. The one touch sends a rocket of pleasure up your spine. You’ll be gone in seconds. “That’s how it should always be, yeah?” He rubs little circles. Your hips twitch, rocking into his touch.

John is still inside you, and you watch as his cum-slicked cock appears and disappears with each soft rock of your hips.

“My good girl. My good fucking girl.”

Another stroke, and then your fingers dig into his shoulder, back arching, head lolling as the orgasm grips you.

When you come down, John sticks his thumb in his mouth, sucking it clean. The next second, he’s lifting you off his cock, placing you into the seat next to him. The car down opens, and he slides out, adjusting his clothes and smoothing his suit jacket.

“Out,” he says.

“What?”

“Out.”

You do and he shuts the door behind you only to open the front passenger door. “Get in.”

The moment you’re in, he shuts it and goes around the front of the car. He hops in, and turns the key in the ignition, bringing the car to life. John backs out, and then the two of you are off.

The moment he clears the parking garage and the first stoplight, he glances in your direction.

“Punishment isn’t over.” He briefly nods toward your dress. “Hike it up. Play with yourself. Use my cum to do it.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The sky above Manchester is slightly overcast and grey.

It might be chilly, but that doesn’t appear to dampen anyone’s mood. The festival clogging the streets is packed full of people. Everyone’s attention is completely absorbed in what is happening around them.

Food and drink stalls line the street, interrupted here and there with stalls selling wares and crafts. There are activities for all ages, and live music on each corner. Everyone around you is enjoying themselves, and yet you are on alert.

A shadow is at your back. He is one with the crowd, moving amongst them like he’s simply one of them.

But you know him for who he is. There is no balaclava. No tactical gear. Just civilian clothes and a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

He comes to a stop one stall over, observing some art, admiring the brushstrokes like he’s actually there to shop and not stalking you.

Simon isn’t here for any of it. Not the food or beer stalls. Not for the trinkets or live music. He is there for you.

And the game is good.

It thrills your blood, churns your heart, makes every nerve fire erratically.

Casually turning away from the flowers you were inspecting, you pretend not to notice Simon. Yet, every time you glance over your shoulder, he appears to have grown a bit closer, matching you almost step for step.

Stepping around a giggling couple, you curve to the right, popping between two stalls and reappearing on the other street. You glance left, seeing no sign of him, and then glance to the right.

As if from nowhere, Simon appears. His arms are crossed over his chest, head tilted slightly to the side in a mocking gesture.

“Fuck,” you whisper, turning around to seek another escape.

If you can make it to the checkpoint without Simon grabbing you, you win.

If not…

You feel the brush of an arm against your own. Stepping to the side, you glance over, only to find Simon. He is standing right there, his body angled in your direction. Every limb and muscle freezes, solidifying you like stone.

It is a temporary paralysis.

You twist away, moving into the crowd.

Simon casually pivots with you, following as you weave through the crowd. He strolls, each movement slow and calculated, as if he knows there is no rush in catching you.

But then again, Simon always wins.

Even with the rules.

With each step, you glance over your shoulder. Simon holds the same distance, still casually strolling with indifference. You pick up the pace, intending to escape, only for you to knock into someone’s shoulder.

“So sorry,” you say quickly.

The older man you’ve run into shrugs, smiling. “No harm done.”

Giving him your best smile, you quickly glance away, seeking Simon.

But Simon is gone. A disappearing phantom.

You spin, gaze scanning the crowd, but you don’t see him. Simon is absent. Or hidden. He could be anywhere.

Taking off, you slip between two stalls to cut through a side street. There are people around but no one is hanging about. They keep moving, minding their own business.

The side street is completely empty.

You keep glancing back, expecting Simon to come up behind you, turning into the alley to pursue.

But he doesn’t come from behind.

He doesn’t come from the front, either.

A hand closes over your mouth, and you’re tugged from the side, dragged beneath a garage door and into a loading area. Simon pushes you against the wall.

“You lose,” he murmurs.

The cigarette is gone, and there is a mischievous glint in his eye. The rules say that if Simon catches you, he can do whatever he wants.

With his body trapping you, Simon withdraws a knife from his boot. He taps the flat edge against your cheek.

“If you scream. I cut. Got it?”

You nod frantically.

The knife disappears, and his hand falls from your mouth. He grabs you by your upper arms, hauling you away from the wall, only to push you down onto a nearby stacks of crates. You’re not bent over completely. Just shoved forward. At Simon’s mercy.

“Spread your legs.” You obediently do so. Simon’s hand roam over your jeans, gliding over ass and thigh. “Take them off.”

Reaching with one hand, you undo the button, and then you’re shoving your jeans down as best you can. When they stick, Simon grabs hold, yanking them down to the floor. You whimper, and Simon lightly slaps your pussy through your underwear.

The knife comes next, slipping underneath the fabric. Simon tugs, and you hear the rip before you feel the bare air against your slick pussy.

“Open your mouth.” You obey, and Simon shoves your underwear into your mouth.

Grabbing your wrists, Simon locks your arms at your back, keeping you stationary. From your advantage points, all you can see are his boots between your legs.

Simon’s thumb parts your pussy, the wet squelch of your arousal loud in the air. He teases your entrance—moves to your clit. Toying with it has you clenching on nothing.

“You love it when I hunt you.” Simon’s thumb disappears, replaced with the head of his cock. He rubs that through your slickness, coating the tip. “Do you feel that?”

The head of his cock starts to push in, and you moan around your underwear.

Simon chuckles, and then he’s shoving forward, forcing every inch of him inside. It is tight, the stretch a little daunting. It always is with him. With the next thrust, your foot slips against the floor, but Simon holds your firmly.

That thrust was just a tease. Using his weight to keep you pinned, Simon fucks you in earnest, skin slapping against skin. You are his toy. To do with as he wishes. To be his in whatever ways he wants.

Those are the rules after all. You’ve been caught. Simon is the one in control.

He grunts above you, not speaking. You’re unable to see him, but you feel the harsh grip of his hands. There are no people around, just the distant sound of music slipping in from underneath the garage door.

The warehouse is completely empty, and knowing Simon, he likely scoped this place out before the two of you arrived here. He enjoys planning ahead. If anything, he was probably herding you to this very spot on purpose.

The fucking bastard.

His thrusts increase—become more erratic. As the winner, your pleasure doesn’t matter. This is about him. Simon stifles a moan, and then he’s grinding forward, pressing himself full against you.

Simon shivers as his release floods him and enters into you. Your pussy clenches around him, squeezing, telling him to fill you until you’re dripping.

In the silence of the warehouse, Simon’s labored breathing starts to even out. He doesn’t release your wrists. Instead, he thrusts shallowly a few times, spreading his cum around before withdrawing.

“You did good,” he murmurs. Using the grip on your arms, Simon brings you up to standing, his softening cock pressing against your ass. “Behaved nicely.” He lightly kisses the side of your throat.

Releasing your wrists, his fingers find your lips. You open for him, and Simon removes your underwear from your mouth. It disappears into his pocket.

“Get dressed. And then you’re going to follow me out of here. Calmly. And without fuss.” Your only answer is nod. “You’ll get yours when we leave.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"You're being difficult," growls Kyle.

"I'm being difficult?" you snap. "How inconvenient for you."

Kyle rolls his eyes and throws his hands up in the air. "I'm not arguing with you about this," he sighs.

"Great,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders like you’re not bothered at all. “Not that interested either."

It earns you a sharp glare that you blatantly ignore.

"We need to cool off," murmurs Kyle, his demeanor softening.

"I agree," you say automatically, starting to turn away from him.

You’re being bratty. It’s not right, but it feels fucking good. Irritation simmers beneath your skin, and you’re itching for an argument.

“Where are you going?” asks Kyle.

"Away from you.”

Kyle mutters something you don’t quite catch, but you don’t turn around. You keep walking, trudging ahead, even when he tries to stop you.

“What are you going?” he asks again.

"You just asked me that. And I answered you.”

“We’re not at home. Where do you think you’re going?”

You shrug. “Why does that matter? You just said we need to cool off.”

“I don't feel comfortable leaving you alone in a public space.”

"And I don't feel like being in your presence at the moment."

Kyle mutters a curse, but you’re already walking away again, aiming for anywhere but beside him.

"No," he says, reaching out to grab your wrist. You pull back at the last second and continue on.

Kyle says your name.

You ignore him.

People are starting to stare—to glance in your direction. It only makes you want to run fast—to move swiftly away from the situation. It’s not that you want to fight. You hate fighting with Kyle. But you’re annoyed, and sometimes having it out in the moment isn’t the best time to sort through an issue.

Kyle moves out in front of you, coming to a stop directly in your path. You side-step, but Kyle matches the movement.

“I swear to God, Kyle,” you growl.

“You’re not leaving my sight,” he replies, voice husky and harsh. “Don’t care how mad you are.”

Your hand rises in a gesture for silence. Biting your own tongue, you swallow back a retort.

Taking a deep breath, you try again. “Move.”

"No."

As you shove past him, Kyle grabs your upper arm, haltering all forward momentum.

“Is this bloke bothering you?”

Putting on your best smile, you turn toward the stranger, intending to reassure him that everything is fine.

"We're good," says Kyle before you even get a word out.

Nope. Now you're beyond annoyed.

The stranger doesn't address Kyle. He doesn’t look at him at all. “I was asking the lady.”

"I'm fine,” you reply slowly. “Thank you."

Kyle’s back straightens, shoulders broadening. “She said she’s fine.”

All you irritation is melting away, pooling at your feet like a rainy puddle. You adore like this. Protective. Assertive. Slightly possessive.

The stranger inclines his head and backs away. Kyle watches him go, his mouth a thin line of annoyance.

Rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking off stress, Kyle pivots in your direction, his grim expression switching to a puzzled one.

“I know that look,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What look?" you ask, all innocence.

Whatever Kyle felt before is gone. There is a knowing—nearly sly—smirk twisting at the corner of his mouth.

He takes a small breath, and then leans in a bit, lowering his voice. “You want to do this here?”

"Not here," you shrug. "But it would help work off some this," you gesture vaguely, "irritation."

Kyle’s gaze sweeps up and down your body, admiring every angle. He is not subtle. Each pass of his gaze is deliberate, like you are a shiny gold necklace he wants to purchase.

“You think you deserve it?” he asks, slightly arching an eyebrow. “After running away from me?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan.

Your arm rises, hand poised to push at him, but Kyle knows all your moves. His hand grips your wrist and squeezes, drawing you close.

“Don’t run, love. I’ll always chase you.”

He promptly releases your wrist and you spin on your heel, the irritation rising again, boiling hot in your blood.

It is just you, and your footsteps moving toward escape. People pass by you—but his presence is there, sitting on your heels. A weight you cannot shake off.

The moment you step into a side hall that exits into the main parking garage; Kyle is grabbing your waist. It doesn’t matter that the door he pushes you through says “Employees Only.”

You’re shoved against the wall, his hands roaming, tugging at your clothes. There is nothing soft about this. He is hungry. Wanton. Kyle loves the chase. You resist—but it’s pretend. You enjoy Kyle like this. You enjoy this attention.

Kyle’s lips press to yours, but you do not kiss him back. It earns you the reaction you desire. With an annoyed, grunt, Kyle turns you around and shoves you back against the wall. Your cheek flattens, the cold stone almost biting as Kyle shoves his hand down your pants to play with your pussy.

His finger slides through your slickness, seeking your clit, teasing a bit before retreating.

“I told you I’d always chase you.” He nips at your ear, and then with his other hand, slaps your ass.

You yelp, but all that earns you is Kyle’s hand. Not returning to your ass but to venture into your mouth. Fingers push in, and then your lips suck his digits, tasting your wetness.

“You need to fucking behave or—”

“Excuse me.”

Kyle freezes. He waits a beat, and then turns his head enough to look over his shoulder. With your position, you only see the vague shape of a person.

“You’re not supposed to be back here.”

Kyle clears his throat. “Sorry,” he laughs. “Got a bit turned around. Right, love?”

His fingers are gone, as is his hand.

“Yes,” you answer with a giggle. “Took the wrong door!”

The employee is unimpressed, but only steps to the side next to the open door, lightly extending their arm in a gesture to leave. Kyle promptly places his hand on the small of your back, ushering you forward.

He guides out into the parking garage, and you whirl on him, but Kyle is faster.

“We’re going home,” he murmurs.

“Kyle—”

“Behave,” he coos. “You won’t like your punishment.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

The moon glows high in the sky, casting white light across the tree line in front of you. Johnny is in nothing but a kilt and boots. There is a cheery, almost cheeky grin on his face. You have no idea how the man isn’t cold or even chilly. The cool night air doesn’t appear to bother him at all.

It is just the two of you. No one else is out. The farm is completely asleep.

“I’m gonna show you a piece of my history.”

“Your history?” you ask, shivering.

Johnny instructed you to bring a thin nightdress with you when you came to visit his family farm. Tonight, you’re in it, barefoot and seconds away from shivering. The material is almost translucent, and it clings to your body, hugging every curve and dip. It’s for sleeping. Not for frolicking in the Scottish Highlands at night.

“Aye,” shrugs Johnny. “Family history. Clan, specifically.”

Your cross your arms over your chest to hide your pebbled nipples. “It has to do with the forest?”

He nods. “You know what’s coming up?”

You frown. Shake your head.

“Beltane,” he answers. “It’s all about…coming together in fruitful union.”

“Fruitful union?” you deadpan.

“It’s a time to celebrate,” he replies, turning his back on the dark forest to address you directly. “Passion. Abundance. Vitality.” He pauses. “Conception.”

The back of your neck warms at the word.

“Why are we out here exactly?” you ask, pushing the conversation on. It’s not like it doesn’t intrigue you, but it is chilly.

“All the families in the area would gather their marriable sons and daughters, bring them to this very forest, and they’d…have a race.”

“A race?”

“The men in kilts.” Johnny gestures to himself. “Every bonnie lass in robes.” He gestures to you.

“I’d hardly call this a robe, Johnny.”

He takes a step closer. The heat at the back of your neck intensifies, running up to your cheeks and scorching down your back to pool in your core.

“Women were sent first into the wood with the goal to come out untouched on the other side. The men would be sent in a few minutes after. Chase them down.”

“And what was the purpose of this?” you ask, voice nearly a whisper.

Johnny steps forward. “Marriage.” His gaze drops to your lips.

"I see. And what happened in the woods, exactly?"

Johnny grins, gaze returning to your eyes. "I think you know."

You do know. It isn’t hard to connect the dots.

“Am I to be chased?”

Johnny’s thumb lightly brushes the underside of your bottom lip. “Would you like that?”

You nod.

He leans in, lightly pressing his lips to yours. “Then run.”

You don’t run. You don’t really jog, either. It’s more of a quick walk with an occasional skip into the dark forest. And it is that. Dark. The moment you slip beyond the exterior tree line, you’re swallowed up. The sky is clear with no clouds, and yet only a few slivers of moonlight break the canopy overhead.

You are not made for this. Especially barefoot.

The only thing you can do is to take it slow. And the other side? You didn’t even ask how far it is or in what direction you need to go. But it’s not like you want to be successful. Johnny is somewhere behind you, hunting you down, watching you in the dark.

You are the deer. And he the hunter.

An owl hoots. A twig snaps. Like a startled animal, you spin around, head on a swivel as you scan the darkness. There is nothing. Only you. And the intense hammering of your heart.

You take one step back, the soft ground melting under your foot.

Reaching out, your fingers brush against bark. It is rough and coarse beneath your fingertips. Splaying your hand flat, you press your palm against the trunk of tree beside you.

Its outline is hardly visible.

Just a shape in the dark.

“Found you.”

Johnny’s voice comes as a whisper just over your shoulder. You start, body lurching forward as the adrenaline spikes. His arms grab at your waist, and then the tree is at your back, biting into your skin through the slim fabric.

Johnny’s hand cradles the side of your neck as he goes in for a kiss. It is claiming. Deep. Intense. You open for him eagerly, tasting him, and sucking on his tongue.

He groans in response, his pelvis grinding against you. Even with the kilt you feel his hardness. It is pressing. Insistent.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss, giving breath before stealing it again.

One hand slips underneath the hem of your nightdress. You’re not wearing underwear, and that hand—Johnny’s hand—pushes between your thighs, seeking your wetness. He finds it, moaning softly into your mouth as he glides his fingers back and forth over your pussy, teasing your clit in slow circles.

The cold is distant now. Fuzzy. There is only heat, and your legs part for him, wanting more.

Johnny’s grip tightens, and then he’s drawing back, turning you around and pressing you against the tree again. You brace yourself against the bark. Johnny shoves the nightdress up, exposing your ass to the chilly air.

But then the cold is gone, replaced by his heat.

Johnny cages you in, and then you’re the one who fills the wood with your moan. The head of his cock pushes in, and then Johnny is thrusting. With his hands on your hips to keep you in place, Johnny ruts into you, teeth grazing along your exposed shoulder.

You are unable to move. Unable to do anything but take it.

Each stroke hits deep, sending waves of sensation up to cloud your head. There is a hazy settling over you. Your pussy clenches, and Johnny shivers, his thrusts stuttering slightly. Once it relaxes again, Johnny is right back at it, grunting.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he groans, pace quickening.

It’s slurred a bit.

Reaching behind you, you grasp the back of Johnny’s neck. Turning your head just enough, you find his mouth, seeking your own claiming.

“I’m yours.”

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[lucid-loves]

First Light ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 1

Pairing: bodyguard!Ghost x princess!reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 4.5k

CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, verbal abuse by parents, physical abuse by parents, psychological abuse by parents, opposites attract, forbidden love, slow burn, fluff, attraction and sexual tension, reader POV and ghost POV, minors DNI, eventual smut, virgin reader

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: After receiving death threats from a mysterious terrorist organization, your royal parents make a decision to reach out to the United States for help. Specifically, they want the US to send a bodyguard to protect their precious princess. When the 141 is called upon to investigate, Ghost is the one assigned to protect you. With your lack of experiences outside of your royal life and his experience with nothing but deadly, worldly affairs, opposites attract.

Chapter Synopsis: Ghost travels to the small country of Stuoca to meet the person assigned to guard for the next month. When you lay your eyes on him, you can’t help but feel scared, yet also curious. He feels the same when encountering such a precious, fragile thing like you.

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7

The porcelain teacup felt warm in your hands, holding your favorite blend of tea flavored to your preference. The grandfather clock in the room ticked by, filling the silence. While you normally liked to play some music to fill the space with sound, your parents told you that you must be quiet. That you had to sit pretty and be patient until you were allowed to do so. 

You stared into your cup, slowly losing your appetite for teatime as the pit in your stomach grew bigger. You felt like there was something wrong, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. Normally, your parents were eager to show you off to any guest that was coming to the palace. Right now, it is different. You were locked away in one of the many palace studies. There was your butler with you who watched your worries grow. There were a couple of guards outside the closed doors, stopping anyone from entering unless the king or queen allowed it. 

Looking out the arched window and overlooking the lush palace garden, you wished you could enjoy your teatime outside like you normally did. Feeling the fresh air, hearing the birds chirp in the distance, enjoying the subtle aroma of flowers flowing with the wind. It was really the only time you were allowed to be outside. 

Even though you were a grown woman, your parents have always seen you as their little princess.

While you sat silently in the study, the king and queen of Stuoca was meeting the man that would guard you with his life. It was jarring being in a place like this. Everything from the floor to the ceiling was crafted with exquisite, polished stone. Anything made of wood was a rich cherry. On marble pedestals along the halls held works of art behind glass. Jewelry, crowns, busts. Golden chandeliers with crystals reflecting the light hung from the ceilings that were painted with angels. 

Everything in the palace was worth billions upon billions of dollars. Standing in the middle of it all was Ghost, a man that once was just scraping by in his younger days. He still stood out like a sore thumb among it all. The skull balaclava secured over his head, tattoos revealed on his forearm, the black t-shirt that clung tight to his muscles. It was like death himself walked the bright palace halls. 

“Pardon me, Lieutenant Ghost, but you don’t have to wear that mask here, do you?” The queen, your mother, nervously addressed from her red velvet seat. The mask was making her scared. That was how people normally reacted when they saw him for the first time.

“Yes I do, your majesty.” He curtly responded, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. Ghost was just as uncomfortable as your parents were. When he heard that he was being deployed to guard a princess, he laughed, thinking it was a joke. But now, here he was being served tea and cookies with the king and queen of Stuoca. As much as being on base was a pain in the ass at times, he missed it. 

The king cleared his throat before taking another sip of tea from his teacup. When they reached out to the United States for a bodyguard, they weren’t expecting someone so. . . rough to be sent out. But, if this was the right man for the job, then so be it. As long as his princess was safe. “Thank you for traveling so far away from home in order to help us with our problem. Being a country so small, we weren’t even sure if your country would even bat an eye at us.”

Ghost shifted on the balls of his feet, growing more uncomfortable with the sudden gratitude. He just wanted to start the job already. The sooner he starts, the sooner he can end it. “You said that you’ve received threats. Anything else happened while I was busy traveling here?”

With a snap of the king’s fingers, a maid came over and presented an opened envelope. Ghost quirked a brow under his mask as he took it. Opening it revealed the original letter that was reported to Laswell. The one that he’s already seen with his 141 team. Handwritten, black ink, very articulated. The letter detailed how the royal family would burn down along with their palace. That the princess will be kidnapped and tortured if they didn’t get what they wanted, which was power to control the country. 

Ghost sighed, feeling like he got the short end of the stick on this mission. The entire 141 was working on this case. However, Ghost was the one stuck with babysitting duty while the rest of the guys got to experience all of the action. They were off investigating while he was sitting on a velvet couch in the grandest office he has ever seen. 

“That’s all we have for now to physically show you. The only other concern is the graffiti that has been popping up around the city.” The king explained calmly as a different maid brought over a manilla folder full of pictures. Pictures depicted a graffiti crow on various different buildings. They weren’t murals, but the symbols were prominent enough to be noticed. 

“A crow is a symbol of misfortune and death. A bad omen, wouldn’t you agree?” The queen spoke up, taking a slow sip of her tea as she tried to read the lieutenant’s reaction. It was impossible to do so with his mask. 

“Where is the princess right now?” He inquired. It seemed odd that you didn’t come in with your parents. He figured that they would want you right by their side at all times if they were really concerned about the threats. 

The king and queen stood as if on a cue. The king gestured for Ghost to do the same. “Our daughter is in one of the studies waiting to meet you. For her sake, please refrain from bringing up the letter and graffiti. We don’t want to startle her more than what has already been done.”

Ghost gave a curt nod before following your parents to the study where you stayed. The way they spoke about you, you seemed more like a caged bird rather than their beloved daughter. It unsettled the lieutenant, but perhaps it was just the consequence of formality. They wouldn’t have reached out to the United States for help if they didn’t care after all.

Once they approached the door, the guards saluted and opened it up. Beyond the doors was the most ornate office Ghost has ever seen. Once his eyes settled on you, you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. 

Every hair on your head was in place with the help of maids. There were no wrinkles in your dress and no stains in sight. Your makeup was light and only flattered your features. The gems on your necklace complimented your bright eyes. Ghost was almost at a loss for words. When you stood up and curtsied to greet them, he could feel his heart beat against his ribs.

“Good evening.” You simply greeted, your tone polite as ever as a princess should be. 

“Sweetheart, this is going to be your personal bodyguard from now on. He’s going to keep you safe, no matter where you go. Isn’t that wonderful?” Your mother gave a sickly sweet smile, her efforts to meet the status quo seeming a little more forced as she interacted with you.

You definitely knew that something was wrong now. You may have been a confined princess, but you weren’t stupid. However, you decided to refrain from asking what the trouble was. It wasn’t appropriate. Not with your parents watching you.

For now, you focused on the news that you were now going to have a bodyguard. Your eyes shifted towards the large man. Muscles clearly defined under his shirt, posture straight and strong, mask hiding his identity. Compared to him, you were much smaller and much weaker. It intimidated you a bit. It made you hesitant to accept him. However, there were expectations to meet, regardless of how you truly felt.

“Princess Y/n. It is a pleasure to meet you.” You softly spoke as you gave another sweet curtsy towards him. 

He quirked a brow. You were taking this awfully well. A part of him expected some more push-back. He honestly expected you to be a spoiled brat. Yet, here you were, taking everything in stride for now. You knew how to compose yourself better than he expected. “Lieutenant Ghost. I’ll be keeping you safe. For me to do that, there’s going to be some changes.”

You looked to your parents, looking for the explanation for this change. There was not even a bat of the eye as they faked their smiles. “You will still complete your studies as a princess should. Attend the parties as needed to keep up appearances as well.”

Ghost shook his head, authority taking over his baritone voice. “Negative. The princess will not be attending any more parties. Doing so could risk her safety.”

Something was definitely wrong. Your eyes widened at the news. A part of you, though, was celebrating. No more parties? Would your parents really accept this? The sudden shock on their faces morphed into strained smiles, telling you that they weren’t going to accept this so easily. The king cleared his throat. “Lieutenant, it is very important for the princess to still make appearances. It is essential for her.”

Ghost looked at you all of a sudden, wondering how you felt about this change compared to your parents’ obvious protest. You tried to remain unreadable, not wanting to set either party off with your personal opinion. If you had the choice, though, you would sacrifice the parties. They were more for your parents than they were for you anyway.

Ghost sighed in slight frustration. Normally, he was excellent at reading people. He did it all the time with new recruits, enemies, and his team. Their poker faces were nothing compared to yours. “One party if absolutely necessary. No longer than an hour. Just to keep up appearances.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, holding back your disappointment. Well, at least you weren’t expected to be present during the entirety of your parents’ showing off. “Understood, Lieutenant Ghost.”

At least your parents seemed happier with the compromise. Your mother grinned brightly. “Wonderful! Give him the princess’s schedule!”

Your butler hurried over and gave Ghost your schedule. He nearly stumbled back with how packed it was. Piano lessons, dance lessons, tea times, dress fittings, and independent study went on and on for pages and pages. Did you have any time to yourself besides sleep?

“The show must go on! If you have any questions or procedures to discuss, don’t hesitate to reach out to us. We hope that you two get along well.” The queen concluded, eager to leave the room so that she could go on with her own daily life. The king followed close behind as they left the room, leaving you and your bodyguard to get to know each other.

You didn’t mind being civil, but you doubted that he would try to get to know you. He simply didn’t seem like the type to stray away from his responsibilities for anything. For now, you silently went back to your seat to finish up tea time. Ghost stood awkwardly for a moment before finding his own place to settle. Leaning against the stone wall, he examined you further.

The way you held your teacup was gentle. Your dress draped against your legs like a smooth waterfall. The way you looked out the window was melancholic. After a few minutes, you spoke up, curiosity getting the better of you. “Why are you my new bodyguard, Lieutenant Ghost?”

Ghost didn’t expect your question. He hardly even knew what you meant when you asked it. Still, he kept his cool as he dug further. It wasn’t like there was any malice in your tone. In fact, your tone was nothing but innocent. “What do you mean? Are you asking me why I took the job?”

You shook your head, staring into your teacup once again as you got a little shy. Lieutenant Ghost wouldn’t report your conversations to your parents, would he? But, you had to know. “Is my life in serious danger?”

Behind the mask, Ghost’s mouth was partially opened with shock. His body grew tense as he realized what was really going on. “They haven’t told you, have they?”

“My parents can be. . . protective. Their priority to maintain normalcy can cause them to make certain judgments in regards to my life.” You subtly worded, fearing that the guards outside were listening to what you were saying. Hopefully, Ghost would understand what you meant.

Thankfully, he did. Now more than before, you really did seem like a caged bird. You deserve the truth. “Your parents received a threatening letter from a terrorist organization. They seem to be after your life in order to manipulate your parents. I serve under Task Force 141 that specializes in missions like this. The rest of my team is investigating the organization while I am to protect you personally.”

Your grip around your teacup tightened slightly as you learned the truth. It seemed that your intuition was correct. This was a serious problem. You swallowed your new fears down hard before proceeding as normal. “Thank you for your honesty, Lieutenant.”

Ghost sympathized with you as he finally saw a shred of how you really felt about this entire situation. His perception of who he was protecting was completely wrong. You were no brat or clueless royalty with too much time and money on your precious princess hands. You were sharp. You were polite. You were obedient. It made him want to know the real you.

He knew that he shouldn’t get closer than what was necessary. Yet, the anxious look in your beautiful eyes as you stared out the window made him want to provide you with some comfort. Some way to break the ice while also doing his job. He opted for a simple conversation about your daily schedule. “What’s independent study for you?”

“It’s my time to study what I wish within reason. Any subject that I may find interesting as long as it is appropriate for a princess.” You delicately explained, putting everything as nice as possible.

All Ghost heard was that you were restricted from real knowledge. However, it wasn’t his place to make a comment on it. It didn’t matter if he didn’t find it fair. You were a princess and you obviously took your responsibilities, fair or not, seriously. He gave a simple hum in acknowledgment for the time being on that matter. “What are you studying?”

You looked at Ghost curiously, wondering how much of this was just workplace conversation and how much of this was genuine attempts at knowing you. The way Ghost looked at you with such resolute, cold eyes made you shiver. Something told you that this was his usual look. “I’m studying many things at the moment that would be proper for me to know.”

It seemed like subtle and vague answers were the only things he was going to get out of you, but he already picked up on the fact that you didn’t do this to be cold towards him. The tone you carried was careful. Gentle. You didn’t want to say anything that could get you in trouble. Simon knew what that was like.

The conversation was dropped for the time being. It seemed like your physical being wasn’t the only thing he had to protect. Your social reputation was at stake as well. Respecting that, he focused back on guarding you. Not without noticing every little thing about you though.

You stole glances at him every so often as well as you sipped your tea. The more you looked at him, the more he intrigued you. You’ve never had a guard that had his build. You’ve never even seen someone with tattoos in person before. He stood out against the pristine white around the palace. A shadow in the light. You were curious about what he looked like under the mask.

~

The rest of the night proceeded as normal save for your new shadow. You were ushered by your butler to your routine lessons, Ghost always close behind. He stayed silent throughout it all, but observant. You did feel like he was watching your every move. While you were used to being heavily monitored, having Ghost be the one observing you made you more nervous than normal. Music lessons, dance lessons, and studying didn’t go as smoothly as you made more mistakes under the pressure. For some reason, you wanted to impress him like you were one of his newest soldiers. 

Ghost thought nothing of it as you did what you had to do. In reality, he found your abilities to be quite impressive, mistakes or not. He did chalk it up to him being an intimidating presence. Despite it, he could tell that you were skilled. 

When bedtime rolled around, he followed into your room. A grand room with a king, white canopy bed, cherry-wood antique furniture, and large, arched windows leading to a balcony. The windows were the second problem that Ghost needed to address if he wanted to keep you safe. “You can’t sleep in here. It would be too easy to-”

Meeting your eyes made him pause. You waited patiently for him to finish as he was going to say, prepared to take the steps necessary to ensure that the next change would be as smooth as possible. Looking at you, though, Ghost saw a pretty woman that he needed to be more gentle towards. Less explicit in language. You were already afraid for your life. He didn’t want to make that anxiety worse for you.

“Is there another room in the palace that has less open windows?” He asked cautiously, minding his words this time. 

You appreciated his careful consideration, feeling more and more safe with him as he made decisions to protect you. “I believe there is. I can sleep there tonight.”

He followed you to another room in the palace that was away from any windows. He nearly sighed in relief as the new bedroom was windowless, smaller, and much more comfortable to be in. The bed was still massive and the antique furniture was polished, but the warmer palette of the decor made the room feel less like a museum display. 

You felt better too as you looked around the cozy room. The windows in your usual bedroom just reminded you of what you couldn’t have. Though, your anxiety grew as you realized that Ghost was still within the room. Your cheeks grew a subtle pink as you chose your words with precision. “I would like to get ready for bed. Is it necessary for you to be here while I do?”

“Well. . .” Ghost thought carefully, trying to make the best decision here. After a few seconds, he determined that you needed your privacy. He was already invading it enough by being your personal bodyguard. With an accepting, silent nod, he stepped out of the room while you changed into pajamas. A few maid staff passed by, gawking at the lieutenant. A glare was enough to have them scurry on their way.

While you changed, you thought about Ghost. About his real personality, his job, his friends. What kind of work does he normally do? Has he ever killed someone? It certainly seemed like he’s gotten into his fair share of fights from the scars you have seen on his arms. Was he dreading this job? At times, you thought that you could see him get antsy while waiting for you. You probably wouldn’t like waiting on a princess either if you were in his shoes. 

Once you were changed into your silky pajamas, you knocked on the door. “Lieutenant? I’m all dressed. You could come in now.”

Swiftly, he came in. For a second, he admired the way you looked in your pajamas. You looked so much more comfortable. The way you were letting down your hair in front of the vanity had him gulp too. “I won’t be watching you sleep all night. Just until you fall asleep, and then I’ll wait outside the door.”

“What about your sleep?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. The way his arms were crossed over his broad chest made you shrink within yourself a bit. 

“I’m used to not sleeping. I don’t usually sleep well either. Don’t worry about me, princess.” He responded bluntly, putting some more personal distance between the two of you. He would be lying if your concern over his own time didn’t make him melt a little though. 

“I see. My apologies, but I am unsure that I will be able to fall asleep quickly tonight. You might be waiting for a while.” You honestly admitted, feeling the anxious pit in your stomach begin to swallow you like a blackhole. You already felt enough like a burden to the maids and butlers with how strictly your parents had them wait on you. 

Ghost shook his head, noticing how lightly you scrunch your brows in concern. How you nervously bit a tiny part of your bottom lip. Subtle behaviors that no one would notice if they weren’t truly paying attention. You were so different from what he was expecting when he was first told that he would be guarding a princess. “It’s fine. This is my job.”

You turned away from your reflection in the mirror to look at Ghost. Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed how blue his eyes were. Such a deep, oceanic blue that held so many secrets. He stared right back at you, noticing how your worries couldn’t be quelled with just two simple sentences. Finally, he was able to read you.

“If it will help, you can talk to me until you fall asleep. Anything you want. I promise that I won’t tell the king and queen.” He offered, taking a seat on the Victorian-styled couch that was at the foot of the bed. 

His offer came as a complete surprise to you. You didn’t expect him to be so kind. You have learned long ago that there was a difference between being civil and genuinely kind. Ghost was being nice, which felt like a rarity given his outward personality. Quickly, you finished getting ready for bed. Once you were cozy underneath the cotton covers, Ghost turned off the main light. The small lamp on your nightstand stayed on, allowing a comfortable dim to illuminate the otherwise dark room.

An awkward silence fell between the two of you as you tried to think about what to talk about. There was still a fear in you that he would tell your parents, but Ghost didn’t seem like the type to break his promises. Besides that, you never really talked about yourself before. No one has ever been interested in what you liked and disliked. Not that you had a lot of experiences with how your parents kept you in the palace and filtered what you could learn. However, that wasn’t to say that you were curious enough to find a way to learn anyways. At the very least, you had plenty of questions about the outside. 

“For my independent study, I am focusing on classicism art. At least. . . that is what my parents think. I. . . I have been studying other things in secret. My handmaiden sneaks new books into the library for me sometimes if she can.” You confessed, feeling a weight of your chest as you admitted your truth. You didn’t like lying and sneaking around in secret. While you loved new knowledge, you still carried that weight with you.

Ghost listened carefully to your confession. His back was turned towards you, a comfortable thing for you since you weren’t keen on the idea of someone watching you fall asleep. It was enough for him to just sit at the foot of your bed. 

“What new books have you read?” He inquired, wondering what sorts of books a princess could possibly want to read in secret. 

You took a deep breath, feeling your cheeks flush as you admitted more of your secrets. Without interruption, he let you speak. He listened to your voice that lowered into a pleasant whisper when you told him about all the books you were reading and wanted to read. A couple of times, he couldn’t help but crack a smirk at some of your opinions that were refreshingly assertive. 

It didn’t take long for him to hear you start dozing. It started with quieter words morphing into sweet slurs. As soon as he heard your steady, deep breaths, he silently got up and left the room. Standing guard in front of the door, he contacted his team by phone to give an update. 

“Lieutenant, how is she?” Captain Price cut to the chase, his voice low as he investigated matters on his side.

“She’s. . .” Ghost began before trailing off. He had to think about the right words to use. 

“She's a spoiled rotten princess?” Another voice came through. The chuckle was no doubt Soap.

“Honestly, no. She’s a princess, but she’s anything but rotten.” He finally admitted, keeping his voice quiet since the halls seemed to echo. 

There was another laugh before the captain cleared his throat, regaining authority. “I’m glad that she is much more pleasant to deal with than what was expected. Just be careful not to get too personal. I know you will be around each other a lot, but the mission is our priority.”

“Of course, Captain.” Ghost promised, wondering if this particular promise would be easy to keep or not. 

[nanamissuit]

Can I request the 141 boys with a shy reader who gets to talking about their hobbies or whatever, really starts opening up, only to get self conscious and say something like, “sorry I talked so much.”

Shy - TF141

Pairing: TF141 x GN!Shy Reader

Warnings: None, Fluff, Hurt-comfort

John Price:

So what has Price noticed while dating you? You ever so rarely speak more than a couple of sentences. 

And oh god when he would introduce you to people you’d shy behind him like a child, he never understood why.

So when you started to talk more about a certain hobby you liked he was ecstatic. It was just you and him, at home in bed watching a movie but not really paying attention.

Then something in the movie caught your eye and reminded you of something from your childhood, your eyes lit up as you began to start rambling on and on.

“Yeah so I used to-” “Hm? What’s the matter, why'd you stop?” John looked confused, he was genuinely interested in what you were saying, “Sorry, I talked too much.”

His heart melted, he was so upset hearing those words. He didn’t know whoever told you that you talk too much but he never felt more enraged in his whole life. “No sweetheart you never talk too much, I could listen to you talk for hours and hours keep talking I wanted to hear the rest.” He saw you smile as you kept talking, he truly did love you.

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:

He’s always encouraging you to talk more, he adores your voice and also he can’t really tell your emotions when you’re just quiet so it scares him.

He always loved when you spoke even if it was only a couple of sentences or words here and there, and when he introduced you to his mates and you kinda hid behind him he chuckled a bit.

But when you guys went out to go watch the sunset and you started to ramble a bit, he was so excited but he tried to stay calm so as to not interrupt you.

“Honestly it was one of my favorite-” “You okay? I was listening.” Kyle looked at you a little worried but upset because he wanted you to keep talking, keep rambling about nonsense forever.

“No sorry I talked way too much.” Kyle’s heart shattered and he had to keep it together as he wrapped an arm around the small of your back. “No baby keep going, I wanted to hear the rest I love when you talk.” He saw your eyes light up as you kept talking and he listened to every word.

John 'Soap' Mactavish:

We all know that man is a talker, like you can’t get him to shut up. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to listen to you talk. In Fact whenever you begin to speak he automatically shuts up.

When he introduced you to his friends and even family you were a nervous wreck and hid behind his back. He explains to everyone you’re just shy and holds your hand for comfort.

But there has never been a thing in the world he’s wanted more than for you to just talk about something, anything. 

So when you started to ramble to him before going to sleep in your shared bed, he immediately woke up and listened intently.

“Yeah and that's-” “Keep going, what happened next?” he was so bummed when you stopped talking, you left him on a cliffhanger :(!

“No it’s okay I talked way too much.” Soap frowned, “No lass, you never talk way too much. I love hearing your voice, please keep going?” And then he got excited when you kept speaking. He listened until you got so tired you fell asleep.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley:

This man is so quiet, but not in a shy way. He just doesn’t think talking is necessary. So he kind of expected you to do all the talking. But then he realized how shy you were and started talking more so you weren't uncomfortable

When he introduced you to people and you hid behind the boulder of a man, he acted like a bodyguard. “They're shy, give‘em a bit.”

But when you guys are alone and you’re watching him cook dinner and you have the urge to just talk, he’ll listen like a goddamn dog. Sometimes even chuckling at things you say or adding commentary.

But then when you cut yourself off, “I know right! But then-” He didn’t even give you the chance to say “I was talking too much.” Because he was so quick to respond.

“Keep talking Lovie, what happened? I love when you talk, please keep going.” And you smiled to yourself as you continued on with what you were saying, he truly loved every single word you spoke.  

[yandere-kokeshi]

Hey can i request platonic yandere 141 x reader who is touch starved but also uncomfortable being touched? They struggle because on one hand they want to snuggle into their big buff bodies but in the other hand because they hardly had any loving physical contactas a child, they just don't it strange?

— Yandere Platonic TF-141 x gn darling who's touchstarved but doesn't know how to ask and feels weird

Warnings: yandere behavior, and slight forced affection. 

A/N: this is kinda bad, not happy with it. But I still hope you can enjoy, anon <3

It’s quite a funny thing, because all of them are touch-starved too.

While all of them — including Johnny — will try to respect your space and let you come to them naturally, sometimes they (Price and Soap) go overboard and bombard you with affection that may lead to you being overwhelmed.

Price, being a devious dog, often bodyguards you, especially in public; wherever you are, he’s standing right behind you, cracking up the air with bad-dad jokes or smoking his favorite cigar. Slowly but surely, John starts to roll his hand around your lower back; watching your reactions to ensure he’s not pushing. But, as soon as he sees you okay with it, he slides his hand up and around your shoulder, before pushing you against him. He sees you coil up, but within a few seconds, you relax and straighten up your shoulders; something that makes him smirk.

Soap is the definition of overbearing — he’s naturally touchy, patting you on the shoulder after a long time apart, tight hugs that end up with you begging for a break, and a tight hold on your hand everywhere. Let’s not forget about Johnny’s deep kisses on your temple. Whilst he knows you prefer not to be bombarded with touches, he can’t help himself– you’re jus’ so darn cute. 

Sooner or later, you become comfortable with it. Even while you’re still flinching at his touch, you crave it like sweets. And it’s something he’s willing to push onto you, showing that as you need his touch. 

Ghost and Gaz are quite calmer, not touching you unless you come to them; awaiting you to open up to them — but still demanding in their own way of affection. 

Kyle often uses the excuse of ‘accidentally’ touching you, seeing where you are comfortable and how you react. He glides his hand over yours, watching if you either remove it, or simply let it stay. If you stay? He places his warm hand on top of yours, sooner interlocking his fingers between yours; and if you remove it? He lets it go, trying it again without making it too obvious. Of course, he apologizes, and you both laugh at it– but he

Simon rarely touches you. The kind where he flinches himself if you two accidentally touch, simply sitting by each other. It’s to the point where it’s almost uncomfortable, and forces you to get out of your comfort zone; asking if you can hold his hand, or hold pinkies, which he’ll gladly do. 

Everyone quickly learns your body language, and it’s easy to read you by a few weeks — seeing when you want attention, need to be alone, what kind of touch you need, etc. 

—

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