#gaz recs pretty please

[godihatethiswebsite]

Where are my CoD girlies who also watch The Boys because—

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

hi! i was wondering if i could request your thoughts/drabble on how the 141 would react if a mission went awful and you were left in the hospital with amnesia! like the reader wakes up and has no memory of her team🥲

if you aren’t taking requests atm or this doesn’t fit with your writing, i completely understand and you can ignore this! just wanted to say i binged your masterlist and absolutely love all your writings! keep up the amazing content <3

the 141 when you have amnesia

note: AAA TYSM FOR REQUESTING THIS!!!! and ty for reading my stuff, it means a lot!! i had so much fun writing this it's unbelievable, this concept is just so JUICY,,, i really hope you like it!! <3

wc: 2.8k

warnings: established relationship, angst sadness and depression wow i did not mean for this to get so sad

ao3

price

✹ he would undoubtedly blame himself for what happened to you. as your captain, it was his job to keep you safe and make sure you came home in one piece, and he'd failed you there.

✹ weeks and weeks go by as he waits endlessly for you to wake up, and with every day that ends with you still unconscious, he feels his resolve slipping just a little bit more.

✹ he holds himself together as well as he can, keeping his head high and projecting confidence that you'd be okay, if only to keep the team's spirit up. they still needed their captain, and he'd be damned if he failed them too.

✹ behind closed doors, however, he's a mess.

✹ john drinks, a lot, so much that it’s irresponsible, but the image of you, beaten and bloody and barely breathing haunts him every time he closes his eyes. he locks himself in his office, away from the others and ignores their concerned calls through the door.

✹ he visits you, only when it's late and there's no one else around to hear him whisper apologies to you with a lump in his throat. he confesses to you like a sinner, all the things he wishes he'd done differently, how he'd put himself in your place in a heartbeat if it meant you'd be okay.

✹ other than those nights, he does his best to stay away from the infirmary. it’s selfish, but he can’t bear to see you in such a fragile state.

✹ he’s in his office when you wake up.

✹ the nurse finds him on his second drink of the night, and no sooner than the news leaves her mouth he's pushing past her and rushing to the infirmary. he bursts through the door, startling you and the other nurse with you.

✹ "hey, sweetheart." he’s by your side in an instant, taking one of your hands in both of his as he gazes lovingly into your eyes. it feels like it's been an age since you've looked at him, the sight of your eyes alone almost has the dam behind his own breaking.

✹ you’re staring back at him with a somewhat lost expression, but john’s so relieved that you’re here, that you're back, it slips his notice.

✹ he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, like he's done hundreds of times before, but you stop him by placing your other hand on his chest. he pulls back with a concerned frown, finally noticing the unsure look you're wearing.

✹ the nurse briefly explains that some memory loss is common for the amount of head trauma you sustained. he should've expected something like this, in fact it's a miracle you made it out with just memory loss.

✹ "i'm sorry, can you tell me who you are?" you ask meekly, looking back at him with an apologetic look in your eye. you look guilty, like it's your fault this happened and not because of his own shortcomings.

✹ john's heart sinks at your words, but he's careful not to show it. amnesia can be temporary, he knows that, he just has to jog your memory.

✹ "i'm john," he smiles as warmly as he can through the panic in his chest, lifting his left hand to show you the wedding band on his finger, "your husband."

✹ your jaw falls open, your eyes wide as you look between the ring, his face, and the nurse behind him, who simply nods in confirmation of the captain's words.

✹ "you're…" you mutter, disbelief taking over your voice, "my husband?"

✹ you take his left hand in yours, bringing it closer to your face and examining the wedding band, a tiny smile pulling at one corner of your lips.

✹ "yes, love," his chest rumbles with a chuckle, grasping your left hand and showing you the matching band on your own finger, "we're married."

✹ "seriously?" you ask, comparing the rings on your fingers and looking back up to him with an almost comically surprised face. john nods again, his moustache tilted with an amused smile.

✹ "been together for nearly seven years."

✹ "how the hell did i convince you to marry me?" you mutter. at that, he lets out a real laugh, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

✹ "think i should be the one askin' that question."

gaz

✹ kyle takes it harder than anyone.

✹ he visited you once, at the first opportunity when you were stable enough to not require constant observation, but the sight ruins him. you looked so weak, nothing like how you should; your cheeks were sunken and your skin has a sickly sheen to it, and there was nothing he could do to help you.

✹ he couldn't stand it.

✹ he becomes so easily irritated, a hair trigger just waiting to snap. the others want to help him, but he won't let them get close enough to try. any mention of your name has him shutting down, leaving faster than they can finish their sentence.

✹ he barely sleeps, spending most nights curled up in your bed with his tears soaking your pillow. he surrounds himself with your clothes, things that smell like you, but your scent eventually fades and he just feels so alone without you.

✹ price finds him like that one night, sitting on the floor with his back leaning against your bed after throwing up from crying so hard. he hauls kyle up by the collar of his shirt, and forces him to meet his stern eyes through the tears.

✹ "pull yourself together, garrick! they need you to be strong for them, how d'you think they're gonna feel when they wake up and see you like this?"

✹ after that it's like the spell is broken, and he realises just how pathetic he's been acting. in the weeks you've been out, he's only visited you – his partner – once. you'd never forgive him if you knew.

✹ from that night onwards, he visits you at least once a day, filling multiple vases around your bed with beautiful flowers and making sure they never wilt.

✹ he got 'get well soon' cards for you too, having each of your teammates, and even kate, sign one to decorate your room.

✹ you wake up surrounded by life and colour, physical evidence of how much he loves you that puts a smile on your exhausted face, even if you don't know who left them.

✹ he's off base when you wake up, picking up a fresh bouquet for your room. his phone rings as he's leaving the florists, and as soon as he hears the nurse's voice he's sprinting back to his car, throwing the flowers onto the passenger seat and racing back to base.

✹ he bursts through the infirmary doors to see you standing with the help of the nurse, your legs wobbly but your face determined. he almost breaks down in the doorway.

✹ when you look up and meet his eyes, he feels his heart stutter in his chest. he rushes towards you, the new bouquet slipping from his fingers, and almost knocks you off your feet with the how hard he embraces you.

✹ you let out a small 'oomph' as he squeezes you, hesitantly wrapping your own arms around his torso. he sniffles into your shoulder, a few tears wetting your shirt despite his attempts to hold them back.

✹ "hey, uhm…" your voice reaches his ears, hoarse with disuse, "are you okay? what's your name?"

✹ "what?" kyle lifts his head, pulling back to mirror your confused gaze. "babe, what're you on about?"

✹ the nurse pulls him aside, leaving you sitting on the edge of your bed as she explains your amnesia to him.

✹ you really didn't remember him. his heart withers in his chest, the pain of losing you all over again spreading to the ends of every limb.

✹ "no, no no no–" he mumbles, stumbling back over to where you sit and cupping your worried face so gently, like you'd break if he was too rough. "please, love, you have to remember"

✹ you cover his hands with your own, a few tears falling from your eyes and rolling hot against kyle's palms. "i'm sorry, i want to remember, but…"

✹ "please, i love you…"

soap

✹ johnny spends every free moment at your bedside.

✹ he talks to you, tells you stories about everything that's happened since you've been asleep; the time ghost burnt dinner and set the fire alarms off, a robin that landed on the windowsill of your shared room, anything that comes to mind.

✹ sometimes he plays your favourite songs, sitting on the end of your bed softly humming along, praying that you'll hear it and come back to him.

✹ most often though, he draws you. he fills page after page of his sketchbook with sketches of you; the peaceful look on your face as you lay next to him, memories from before the accident, the two of you together – though he always puts infinitely more detail into you than himself.

✹ similarly to the captain, johnny stays positive about your condition, refusing to even entertain the idea of you not waking up. he's optimistic, and so good at hiding the anguish of being without you that even ghost is fooled by his facade.

✹ he won't let the others worry about him. you're the one in the hospital, you're the one that deserves their sympathies, he has to stay positive for everyone so they don't worry, so you have something familiar to come back to when you wake up–

✹ in reality, he's living in denial. he's on the verge of a steep mental nosedive, and if he looks past his delusions for even a second, he's afraid he'll spiral into a pit he won't be able to claw his way back out of.

✹ so he continues to live like that. he has one-sided conversations with you, going on for hours as if you're talking back to him. he brings you your favourite meal when the mess hall makes it, putting it on your bedside table so you can reach it and clearing it up the next day when he comes back.

✹ when you eventually, finally wake up, he's already there with you.

✹ it was late, and against the nurse's wishes he'd climbed into your hospital bed with you, an arm around your shoulder holding you close his chest while his other hand doodles away in his sketchbook.

✹ you let out a small sound and shift against him, and his heart skips a beat under your ear at the realiseation that you're back.

✹ any lingering tiredness immediately disappears from his mind, as he throws his sketchbook carelessly onto the side table and wastes no time in gathering you up into his arms and bringing you into a crushing hug.

✹ a groggy, surprised noise leaves you, the sound of your voice lighting up johnny's face with a smile so wide it aches. he loosens his hold just enough to hold the side of your head with one hand, gazing into your eyes like you were the only person in the world.

✹ "there y'are, bonnie, i missed you so much,"

✹ he presses his lips to the top of your head, his eyes glassing and his heart full with how relieved he is that you're awake.

✹ "...what's going on?" you mutter, your eyes darting all over his face and to the room around you with a confused furrow in your brow.

✹ "lemme call the nurse," he replies with an easy, comforting smile, reaching somewhere behind him for the call button.

✹ while you wait for the nurse, he helps you sit up, adjusting the pillows behind your back so you can sit comfortably, all the while rambling about everything and nothing all at once.

✹ "you should've seen gaz's face, darl, it was priceless–"

✹ "i'm sorry, i… i dont remember you…"

✹ nothing has ever shut him up quite as effectively as those words.

✹ "wh… what? stop messin' about, bonnie," he chuckles, desperately searching your eyes for the humour that was missing. when you only shake your head in response, the smile fades from his face and quickly morphs into concern.

✹ "sergeant mactavish, how many times do i have to tell you to get off the bed!" the nurse exclaims as she enters the room. he doesn't get down though, just fixes her with the most intense look he's ever worn.

✹ "why don't they remember me?"

✹ the nurse explains that an injury like yours was bound to cause some lasting damage, but amnesia was more often than not temporary.

✹ "i'm sorry, i wish i could remember you…" you mutter, dropping your gaze to your lap as he turns back to you.

✹ johnny exhales deeply, finding a great sense of comfort that you'll most likely get your memory back. he gently tilts your chin up again so he can stare deep into your eyes.

✹ "don't apologise, that just means i get to woo you all over again, bonnie."

ghost

✹ simon would be destroyed.

✹ while you're knocked out its like he forgets how to be human. he eats, sleeps, and breathes on autopilot – like a robot with a function, no feeling, just keeping himself alive until you wake up.

✹ it worries the others, price especially, but the walls around his heart are expertly crafted, and without you by his side he sees no purpose in lowering them.

✹ when you do wake up, the first thing you see is him, sitting at your bedside with his hand enclosed around yours. his eyes are closed, but he's still very much awake, in fact he finds himself unable to rest anywhere but in the chair by your side.

✹ the way you try to pull your hand from his brings him back to the present and alerts him to your consciousness. his eyes snap open in less than a second, already glassy with the pure relief he feels now you're back.

✹ but you're looking at him differently. where there would once be soft affection, now he can only see confusion, and worst of all, panic.

✹ and there's fear in how your shoulders bunch up, but simon tries his best to ignore that thought.

✹ "hey, you're alright, darlin'," he coos, as gentle as he can manage, pushing the rising dread to the back of his mind.

✹ he presses the button to call the nurse, letting go of your trembling hand bringing it up to your shoulder. your worried gaze flicks to his arm and back to his face, which makes him pause in his tracks.

✹ "who… who are you?"

✹ simon's waited so long to hear your voice again, but hearing those four words from you shatters his heart into pieces.

✹ no.

✹ you didn't forget him. there was no way.

✹ "it's…" he swallows hard, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears threatening to fall. "it's me, love, it's simon."

✹ you're still looking at him with that same anxious expression, and he curses himself when he realises he's still wearing his balaclava. he practically rips it from his head, dropping it to the floor without a care for where it fell.

✹ your eyes study his bare face, tracing over every crease and scar, the mess of hair on top of his head, and finally landing on his desperate eyes.

✹ "i'm sorry, i…" you look guilty, the subtle shake of your head hurting simon like a knife to the chest. "...do i know you?"

✹ the silence that follows your words is unbearable.

✹ you really did forget him.

✹ all the time you'd spent together, the memories you shared, the love you had; it was all gone, just like that.

✹ suddenly he felt like the walls were closing in on him, he couldn't get enough air and his skin was crawling with the need to escape.

✹ at that moment, the nurse comes through the doors, startling simon into standing from the chair and stumbling backwards. he never takes his eyes off of your guilt-ridden face. you didn't know him, not anymore, and that meant he was all alone again, with no one to care for him and call home.

✹ the emptiness in his chest was enough to make him want to rip the hair from his scalp.

✹ the nurse says something, stealing your attention from him with words he's too overwhelmed to listen to. he takes the opportunity to back away, disappearing through the doors with a hand covering his mouth, fighting the urge to throw up.

✹ it was a miracle to two of you got together in the first place – simon didn't know if he could get you to love him again.

[devil-in-hiding]

I'm having a real bad day... Feels like I'm losing my grasp on literally everything; mentally, financially, emotionally, with my family, etc... Just want you to know that reading through your fics gives me just enough of an escape to get through the day... So, thanks for existing. <3 If you have any 141 x female reader fluff/comfort bouncing around in your head I'd love to read it. 🥺

(I genuinely hope things start to look up for you babe and that your day gets better, it’s still early 🫶🏻. I understand that feeling all too well and it can be overwhelming and overstimulating because your brain is sending panic signals every other second, i’m sending you big hugs)

how about some soft 141 x assistant reader? *doesn’t look at my price x emotional!reader everyone has screamed at for more*

The day had already started terribly, it was a downpour outside, and your car had refused to start that morning. Some jackass didn’t have the decency to slow down, soaking you more on your mad dash towards the base. Your foot slipped off the curb more than once and your ankle was throbbing as you limped your way towards John’s office, defeated and embarrassed.

You would have laughed at the shocked faces, and Ghost’s wide eyes, if it weren’t for your chattering teeth and tears blurring your vision.

“I-I’m s-sorry I’m l-late sir, my car-“

“Bloody hell woman why didn’t you call me?” John grouses, standing from his desk as he sends the boys running with a flick of his wrist. “Towels!”

“Aye!”

“On it Cap!”

Gaz and Soap make a mad dash down the corridor, and Ghost hovers next to you. “How’d you like your tea this mornin’ lovie?” He asks, voice gentle and you feel your lip tremble. “Just anything hot. Thank you Lieutenant.”

He just nods, striding out the door and towards the rec room, and when you turn back around, John is rummaging in one of his drawers. “You should have called my pretty. I would have come and picked you up myself. Walkin’ in the rain like that, what were you thinking?” It’s an affectionate scolding as he takes a shirt and pajama pants (how long had those been there? That damn man was he sleeping in his office again?)

“Here ya are lass, let’s get ye cleaned up.” Soap announces, wrapping a towel around your shoulders as Gaz turns you around, grinning as he places a towel on your head, gently drying your hair.

“Little wet rat.” He snickers, and you gasp, slapping his chest as you cross your arms.

“Arse, how could you say that after I’ve had such an awful morning?” You pout, and he chuckles. “Got that sad look out your eye didn’t I?”

“Oh very cheeky Garrick.” You glare, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips.

“Bleedin’ Jesus hen, what happened to ye ankle?” Soap grunts, crouching down and you wince when he pokes the tender skin around your ankle bone.

“I must have rolled it-“

“You are never walkin’ ‘ere in the bloody rain again, understand?” Ghost states as he reenters the office, mug in hand.

He’s ushering you off your feet in seconds, herding you towards Price’s couch, laying out a towel he plucked from the pile before easing you down.

It was a funny sight, four large, highly trained military men, crouching around you as they inspected your ankle. “Gonna have to cut it.” Price says solemnly, and you choke back a snort as you giggle, covering your mouth at the somber nod the other three give.

“Aye, not much to do about a rolled ankle lass. Desperate times an all.”

“You all are idiots.” You laugh, shaking your head at the pleased looks that spread across their faces.

“There she is.”

[yuyuwritesss]

Gaz, whose pretty face you zone out on everytime you're physically tired but can't turn off just yet because you're still on the clock. Thing that happens more often than not with the influx of after mission paperwork you both choose to do in the rec room, enjoying each other's silent company, coupled with the sound of the occasionally turning papers. It allows you to look away from the stale, demanding paperwork, and rest your eyes on something easy on them.

"Something wrong with my face?" He asks, eyebrows drawn together and head tilting slightly, after what must be the twentieth time you did it in the past hour.

Absent-mindedly you answer "yeah, it's unbelievably gorgeous".

His puzzled expression is replaced by a big beaming smile, his eyes softly crinckling. The abrupt change in expression snaps you out of your trance and realizing what you said, you try to smooth things over, quickly throwing out a "I meant your face is pleasing to look at." which only makes his smile grow wider.

"No, what i wanted to say wa-" "you're not so bad yourself, sweetheart." He says, chuckling at the end, effectively shutting you up and raising your face's temperature to hellish degrees.

You go back to looking over your paperwork to avoid his warm gaze and shaking his head, he soon follows suit, the previous atmosphere regained. But after a few minutes of strenuous, boring work you can't help but raise your head, your eyes immediately finding his face only to be met, this time, with his brown orbs already watching you.

"Wanna take a break, love ?"

[parvulous-writings]

Could I request dating headcanons for Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish, and poly Ghoap with gn s/o please? - Fluff anon

Warnings: Oh boy... This be sweet...

Notes: Did I get carried away? Absolutely. I love my boys!! Thank you, Fluff, for indulging me!!

𝔖𝔦𝔪𝔬𝔫 ℜ𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔶

Simon likes to keep his civilian life very firmly separate from his work-life. You know that he's fairly high up in the military, that he often has to be very brutal, and the names of his closest companions. This took years to get out of him, though, and he flat out refuses to tell you anything else, or expand on the information you've already pried from him. "You don't need t'know any of that, love... Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, 'kay?" And that's that. You don't know about 'Ghost', and he'd very much like to keep it that way. He wants to stay your Simon, the sweet, if not awkward, young man you fell for years ago.

He's gone a lot - active service unfortunately demands it. He sends messages when he can, but rarely calls when he's away - you assume it's because he either doesn't want to risk, or can't risk, you overhearing anything in the background. He tries his best to make it up to you when he's on leave, though. Little date nights here and there, spending quality time together - he'll even acquiesce and let you watch your favourite schlocky movies or tv shows, no matter how much he normally pretends to hate them. In truth, they do hold a special place in his heart. They remind him of you, and for that, he'll always appreciate them, in a strange way. Sometimes he'll play half an episode on his phone, when he's away and has a chance - just to keep that piece of you with him.

Physical affection has two facets, with Simon. The public, and the private. In public, he stays almost unnervingly close to you, especially in crowds, but doesn't usually hold your hand or even touch you. Unless he needs to pull you away from something for your own safety, he isn't really a massive fan with expressing his love through public displays of affection; but he doesn't mind if you hug his arm whilst walking, or want to lean into him whilst sitting in a restaurant booth. In private, he isn't quite 'all over you', but he is very close. He doesn't like being in a different room to you most of the time, and if you're in the living room, you're not just going to be sitting around - he will be cuddling you, in some way. Whether he's perched you on his lap, or pulled you into his side - or even, on the rare occasion, when he lets you be the bigger spoon.

𝒥𝑜𝒽𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝑀𝒶𝒸𝒯𝒶𝓋𝒾𝓈𝒽

Johnny does talk a little bit about his time with the task force - unless, of course, he is legally required to not disclose some information (which is a fair amount, but he tries to find workarounds if something is genuinely bothering him). You know his friendships with Simon, Kyle, and Price are all strong - forged in the fires of conflict, and durable enough to withstand it all and more. You know that Price acts a bit like a father, Kyle is the 'funny guy' ("'Sides me, o'course, hen,"), and Simon is Johnny's stoic lieutenant, who he admires, respects, and holds very dearly. Though Johnny has never said the words exactly, you get the impression that Simon is something of a best friend figure to the Scot. Johnny doesn't go in depth or in detail about his missions, he only really speaks about it if there's something that's been bothering him.

He's gone often, but he keeps in contact as much as he can; calls, texts, and video calls whenever he gets the chance. He's often in the rec room when you're on call, and you can hear a faint 'hello' from Gaz whenever he catches Soap on the phone. When he's at home, his favourite thing to do is stay at home with you, and watch movies. Particularly old, or schlocky ones. Sharknado, Attack of the Lederhosen Zombies, and all other manner of B, or even C-rated movies come out. They're usually meant to be horror, but they're often so tacky they don't come across as it. Throw in that night's take out of choice, and boom! Johnny's perfect date night with you.

His main love language is physical touch, so public displays of affection with Johnny are a must, whether it's hand-holding, an arm around your shoulders, or him playfully putting you in a headlock when you're out and about with your friends. The headlock also appears in your private life as well - it's his own, special, silent 'I love you'. It's uniquely him, too. That playful, rough edge that he has, put into his affection. He likes to fall asleep on you a lot, too. Snuggling in bed, or on the sofa, draped over you like a muscled blanket. Something about being close to you soothes his soul, and allows him to sleep with little issue.

Simon and Johnny

There's a small clash with how Simon and Johnny communicate whilst away from you, but they manage to find a slight compromise. Johnny will call you, and drag Simon into view or onto the line if he gets too close to the Scot whilst he's talking to you. He isn't begrudging when he talks to you, but he's very aware of what sounds or sights can be picked up by the phone. He takes privacy and secrecy very seriously, does Simon.

When they're home, you always have practically glued to your hip, no matter the time of day - except the first day home. That first day and night they spend in the guest room together, adjusting themselves back into civilian life. It was a ritual that was started by Simon, that he almost insisted Soap follow with; and the Scot didn't argue. After their day of unwinding, one of them is with you always. Johnny trails after you in the kitchen, or when you're doing chores, and Simon will do the same when you're out and about, getting the weekly shop. It's endearing, in it's own way.

When it comes to night time, and sleeping arrangements, the first couple of nights after they integrate are the best, in your opinion. They both cling to you, one on each side, nuzzling their faces into your arm, or your stomach - or your back, if you're spooning one of them. Sometimes Simon will haul you to sleep on his chest in the middle of the night, and Johnny drapes his arm over the both of you, snuggling into Simon's bulky arm, already half asleep. Other times, Johnny will hug you right up against his front, as Simon hugs him from behind. Occasionally Si will mix things up, and hug you from the front, his large arms reaching over you to grab at the small of Johnny's back, and sometimes his rear.

[sluttylittlewaistenthusiast]

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all the fanfics i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some will have summaries if provided <3

ᡣ𐭩 how you can help palestine . fic recs m.list

@moralesispunk

⭒ Simon is a tummy man

@guttednights

⭒ olderboyfriend!simon

@youronlydarlin

⭒ loser!simon

Just loser!Simon who's unknowingly a sex god

⭒ sucking Simon's dick like crazy

Suckin Simon's dick so good he starts beggin'

⭒ loser!simon who's unaware of just how big he is

⭒ jus suckin simon's dick til hes overstimulated

@undercoverpena

⭒ Keep You Close

he's pretty sure he's in love with you. not that he'll admit it, acknowledge it.

⭒ I'm With You

he knows how he feels, he knows how she feels. yet he fucks it up all the same.

⭒ About Someone, That Isn't You

memories that cloud reality, forcing him to blink them away—finding less glimmer, less shine greeting him as your eyes try to go dull. 

@bingoboingobongo

⭒ In His Eyes

Gaz swears that there’s something going on between you and Ghost. Soap refuses to believe it until he sees it for himself.

@ohmygraves

⭒ After your leave you came back with a ring

memories that cloud reality, forcing him to blink them away—finding less glimmer, less shine greeting him as your eyes try to go dull. 

@peppermint-toads

⭒ The night Simon retires

@oceantornadoo

⭒ Simon in love

simon riley being in love but he actually just doesn’t know it.

@shoukiko

⭒ Ghost vs. Simon

@konigsblog

⭒ hickeys w Simon

@suguann

⭒ Husband!Simon

@slvtforsimon

⭒ bouncing on Simon's cock

@tacticaldiary

⭒ Capture in Tandem | Recovery in Tandem

"I'll give you a choice." He says, cocking the gun. "Shall I put a bullet through you, or her?"

⭒ A Fighting Chance | Frayed Stitches Don't Hold

"When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?" Her voice drops into something akin to defeat.

⭒ It All Comes Crashing Down

She presses the metal radio against her lipa and mumbles her final words, hoping that although he has not spoken, he would hear.

@halcyone-of-the-sea

⭒ Til It Hurts | part 2

You thought that it would be easy - moving on and blazing your own trail, but at every step, memories seem to come back and haunt you. And the biggest memory takes the shape of a man with a skull mask. Can you still deny what you had always felt when he stands at your side once more?

⭒ Harvest Storms

In the process of trying to keep you happy and separate from him, he was leading you down the exact path he had tried to steer you from.

⭒ Another Word for Protection

Simon Riley x Niece!reader (platonic series)

⭒ Black Metal Bourbon

⭒ Between Dreams and Sugars

Your screams will haunt his dreams until the day he dies.

@lovelyghst

⭒ soft tummy simon riley

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

⭒ The Roomate Series

Three years ago you decided to go to college after being out of high school for so long but the only problem was that you needed a place to stay. You found an ad about someone needing a roommate for their apartment and ended up becoming roommates with a man named Simon Riley.

[thedovesaredying]

Hiiii I was just reading the werewolves!141 x f!reader AND OMG IT ITS AMAZING. I was just wondering if you’ll ever write a second part? No pressure and I hope you have a GREAT DAY!!!

Of course!

That first post was mainly just a general outline/prologue to the rest of the AU. Not sure yet if I'll just be writing little scenes and scenarios from the world or write a proper fic for it. Most likely it will end up being the former since I'm pretty bogged down with study and work sadly.

I'm more than happy to offer a little snippet of the current WIP I'm writing for the AU under the read more. Thank you for your lovely words! (Unedited)

Everything is warm when you start to wake, and you find yourself surrounded by a blanket of softness. It’s comfortable and you’re reluctant to return to the waking world, but there’s something brushing against your nose and irritating you enough to make you scrunch it up in annoyance. Your sleep addled brain is confused as to what is disturbing you, only for something to begin thumping against your face.  

When you reluctantly open your eyes to investigate what’s currently slapping your face, you’re met with an eyeful of brown fur. “Soap,” you mumble through the fluff, “Soap, you’re crushing me,” you grunt, unable to breathe properly with the weight of a fully grown wolf laying on your chest. “Get your ass out of my face, Soap,” you add when he only starts wagging his tail harder.  

You’re able to successfully shove his butt away long enough to breathe without a bunch of fur choking you out. You subject the sergeant to a glare, only to be met with a broad grin as Soap excitedly pants at you. “Stop squishing me you jerk,” you grumble, trying to squirm out from underneath him.  

When you glance to the side, you notice Gaz sitting patiently beside the couch you’re currently being crushed into. “Good morning, Gaz,” your coo, reaching out to pet the fur between the black wolf’s ears. His tail starts swishing and he tilts his head to the side slightly so he can bless you with a tiny lick to the palm of your hand.  

Never one to be ignored for long, Soap sits himself up and lets out the most pathetic whine you’ve ever heard. His ears are drooped sadly, and he stares at you with big, wet eyes. Thankfully, he’s moved enough for you to be able to free yourself from under him, and you’re able to sit up, “Sorry Soap, bad boys don’t get pets,” you shake your head sadly, ignoring the way the wolf in question starts crying.  

Gaz looks mighty pleased with himself, leaning into your gentle caressing. At least he's polite enough not to climb on top of you while you’re trying to take a nap on the couch in the rec room, unlike a certain someone.  

Speaking of that someone, he’s quick to make his way over to you, shoving his large head under your arm and attempting to lick at your face. You squeal, swatting at his face and trying to lean as far away from him as possible. “Soap!” you shriek when his hot tongue swipes across the side of your face.  

Gaz growls and starts nipping at Soap’s feet, unimpressed that the other wolf’s antics has stolen your attention from him. In return, Soap starts biting one of Gaz’s ears before leaping off the couch to tackle him. A playfight breaks out between the two wolves, with both sergeants wrestling with one another on the floor.  

[mikhailwrites]

The fire in your eyes / Ghost x Soap

Kinktober #19 - Uniforms

Military Parades. Everyone hates them. Instead of doing something useful and productive, you need to dress up and march in front of staring crowds. Nobody cares if it’s so hot the road is melting or so cold your eyes are freezing over. However, there might be a silver lining to this one: Johnny fucking MacTavish proudly displaying his Scottish heritage.

I'm writing this at 3AM, terribly sorry if it's even less coherent and has even more mistakes than usual. Btw did you know SAS has its own tartan? Well, now you do.

The door to the rec room opens, Ghost immediately checks them. And has to look away and back again. As if to make sure he’s truly seeing... that. Johnny. In a kilt. Not just the kilt, in fact, the whole getup.

Gaz whistles, eyeing the other Sergeant. “Looking sharp, mate! Got a date? Some pretty bird to impress?”

“Damn right, I do,” Johnny smirks as he momentarily looks at Simon. Oh, he likes to play with fire. But he does look sharp, Gaz is right about that. “But we gotta address the elephant in the room. Ghost in a uniform? What did you bribe him with? And the chest candy, too? Had to be expensive.”

“That would be classified, Sergeant,” Price appears out of nowhere, rivalling Ghost’s namesake. “I hope you boys are ready to make a good impression today.”

“Yes, sir!” they answer him in unison. They don’t have to like parades, but they all understand why they must be at their best.

It all goes smoothly; they’ve rehearsed it, after all, for countless hours. Even the weather takes pity on them and graces the parade with an overcast and reasonable temperature. They march, they do the show, people are applauding, a few are shouting some profanities as if a good portion of the parade doesn’t have a near-death experience. As if they didn’t hear the whistle of a bullet flying way too close to their head.

Ghost keeps his mind carefully clear. He performs as is expected of him, enjoys the fleeting moments he gets to see Johnny and tries not to count passing minutes. Then there’s a hymn, another march, and, yes, finally, they’re free. He needs a drink, as do the rest of One-Four-One. Drink, and then he gets out of the uniform. Every time he catches a glimpse of himself, he startles a bit until his brain catches up. God, he hates this.

As Simon nears the pub they had earlier agreed to meet, there is an unusual amount of noise and ruckus coming from inside—the sound of breaking glass and splintering wood, shouts and thuds. Ghost tags Price standing a little out of the way, leaning against the wall and smoking one of his usual cigars.

“Someone already managed to start a fight?” Simon asks as he comes closer, mildly impressed.

“Uh-huh,” Price nods. “We did.”

Ghost blinks a few times. Alright, he didn’t see that coming. “What happened?”

“Someone insulted Soap’s kilt and, if I got it right, even went as far as to say something about his mother. And you don’t just insult SAS soldier’s mum, do you?” Price asks a wholly rhetorical question. Ghost only nods, but then he looks around the deserted street.

“So, why aren’t you inside?”

“Plausible deniability. If I go there, I’ll have to clean up the mess and employ some disciplinary measures. You know the drill.”

“Want me to sort it out, sir?”

“Please do.”

That’s the only permission Ghost needs. He takes off the jacket, handing it to Price. He might not like it, but he sure as hell doesn’t want to get his measurements taken again for a new one.

It’s an absolute chaos inside. Luckily, Ghost thrives in chaos. He sweeps the pub from left to right, taking a quick and rough account of the situation. Gaz is to his right; two men are holding him up as the third takes a swing at him. It’s not a bad punch, Gaz’s head jerks to the side, blood from the split lip dripping on his uniform. As the assailant prepares for another swing, Ghost intervenes. This is his teammate right here, the man who’s saved Ghost’s life on numerous occasions.

Ghost moves quickly, sliding behind the man’s back and grabbing him by the collar, slamming him into the overturned table. The two blokes holding Gaz up look at Ghost, then at each other. There’s a hint of recognition. They let Gaz go immediately and try to charge Ghost, both of them at the same time. Not a bad thinking.

Ghost dodges one fist aimed at his stomach and trips the man. The other one lands a hit on Ghost’s kidneys. It hurts, but he’s used to pain. However, before Ghost can react, Gaz is there, kneeing the bloke in the stomach before sucker-punching him. Okay, that’s one-half of the job done.

“Where’s Soap?” Ghost barks out loud enough to be heard over the racket.

Gaz looks around. Numerous fights are going on, as is expected. There’s tension and rivalry between the military branches and the units. This sort of gathering is a powder keg. “I don’t…,” Gaz starts, trying to find their other Sergeant. “Oh….”

Ghost follows Gaz’s gaze, and… yeah. Oh.

Soap is lying on the ground, one guy’s neck held between his thighs while simultaneously doing a proper fist-assisted dentistry on another bloke who’s struggling to crawl away. Johnny looks like a rabid dog.

“You gonna need help with him?” Gaz asks, not making even a single move.

“Nah, get out of here, Price is waiting outside,” Ghost shakes his head, loosening his tie, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and tucking the sleeves up.

First, he frees the half-choked bloke before he kicks him further from Johnny. Then he grabs Soap and forces him to his knees, thus letting go of the second guy in the process. Ghost quickly glances at their uniform. Royal Marines. Of course. Ghost almost wants to kick them some more.

Instead, he does the reasonable thing worthy of an officer. He takes Soap and, much to the Sergeant’s protests drags him away. Soap is loud, cursing Ghost in that incomprehensible language of his, but even he isn’t so out of it as to hit Ghost, who also happens to be his commanding officer as well as a partner of sorts.

Ghost pretends not to notice and appreciate the searing heat in Soap’s blue eyes. Johnny doesn’t lose his shit nearly as often as many would think, yet when it does happen, it’s an absolute masterclass of carnage. And Ghost loves it. However, he can’t be thinking with his prick right now. They need to get out before someone with actual power shows up.

The ride back to Hereford is a short and quiet one. They stop at a petrol station and get some ice. Gaz is nursing his split lip and bruised jaw, Soap is pressing a handful of ice on the back of his head, where he claims someone hit him with a chair. He’s bleeding from the shallow cut on his forehead, and his left eye is beginning to swell. He got a thorough beating, but Ghost can’t help but think that he didn’t really save Soap. If anything, he saved those two poor bastards Soap was beating up. The Sergeant would probably eat them alive if someone didn’t stop him.

They get out of the car, Ghost immediately grabbing Soap and dragging him away. Price sighs, and Gaz chuckles.

Ghost is leading them to the barracks, to his room. The door closes, lock clicks in place. Johnny is dirty, bruised and bloody; his uniform is ripped in several places, too. He’s a damn mess, but Ghost has always had some seriously crossed wires. He’s been hard in his trousers for a while, and there’s no way he’s waiting a minute more to do something about it.

“Uh… Listen, LT, I’m sor…,” Soap doesn’t get to finish his apology before Ghost is on him, damn near devouring his mouth while his hand clutches at Soap’s thigh over the thick layers of tartan. Johnny lets out a slightly exasperated laugh as he backs up and falls onto the bed. Ghost follows, never allowing more than an inch of space between them. The new position allows him to reach under the kilt finally. He kneads at Soap’s bare thigh, remembering that he nearly choked a man with it. Fuck!

Ghost quickly undoes his belt and shucks his trousers down under his arse. “Lube,” he growls at Soap because the Sergeant is closer to the nightstand. Johnny does as he’s told, fishing out the bottle and handing it over with the same practised move as if he would hand Ghost a magazine.

“Prep?” Ghost asks, clipped and right down to the business.

“Fuck it, want you in me thirty minutes ago,” Johnny smirks. The fire in his eyes is back now. He didn’t get to rip the Marines apart, but now he might get that anger channelled in a different way.

“Wanted to be in you the moment I saw you in the morning,” Ghost retorts.

“You tell me the sweetest things, Simon. Hurry up!” Soap smiles, licking his lips as he watches Ghost fumble with the lube.

It burns a bit at first, then it hurts a bit more, but Soap is no virgin. Ghost is holding back a great deal, trying to go reasonably slow. Soap groans, but instead of pulling away or making any attempt to stop Ghost, he nudges him closer, whining as he forces himself to take more. Ghost is mesmerised, completely lost in him.

Johnny writhes under him, unable to stay still. Ghost’s prick halfway in is both too much and not enough, and it’s frustrating. Finally, he makes up his mind, hooks his legs behind Ghost’s back and demonstrates just how much strength there really is in his legs.

Ghost gasps and moans, Soap whines, arching his back off the bed, struggling to take a breath for a few seconds. “Christ, Johnny,” Simon wheezes, struggling to control himself and the situation. Scratch that; he doesn’t control the situation at all. Soap does, especially once he adjusts and simply uses Ghost to take what he needs.

Simon doesn’t mind. He would be willing to give this man anything he could desire. Anything at all. Simon would cut out his own cold, cold heart and gift it to him. He would burn down the world. For now, it seems that his cock will suffice.

Soap, for the lack of better words, fucks himself on it, and the kilt, rumpled and tucked up, leaves exactly nothing to the imagination. Johnny shivers as the glistening glans of his hardon rubs against the wool, but Ghost does nothing to help him.

If he did, it would’ve been over way too quickly. Instead, he leverages Soap’s hips, changing the angle significantly. Soap yelps before hissing an ecstatic “Yes!” Soon enough, more words follow. Please and harder are especially frequent, and Ghost does give it to him.

Snapping his hips forward at a punishing pace, he gets a lovely gasp each time he bottoms out. Johnny is clawing at the sheets with one hand and at Ghost’s forearm with the other. Come morning, he will probably look like a wild cat mauled him.

It’s a sweet kind of pain. Johnny will feel him for a few days; it’s only fair Ghost will, too. Simon feels the tension build up inside him; his thrusts are slower but firmer, forcing a breath out of Soap, who looks like half of his mind is wandering elsewhere. Eyes hooded, mouth hanging open, face slack in that special way only a good shag can do.

“’M close,” Ghost warns. Or maybe it’s a promise, what with the way Johnny’s legs hold him tighter, trying to force him deeper. Simon blindly searches around until he finds the lube, pouring a little into his palm before he grips Johnny’s neglected prick. It’s hot and hard, velvety, with prominent veins that make Ghost’s mouth water as he remembers how it feels in his mouth, on the tip of his tongue. How Johnny tastes, how his hand in Simon’s hair feels. Simon cries out, a broken sound of utter relief, as he pumps into Soap with each pulse that wrecks his body, coming inside him for what feels like an eternity but is mere seconds.

His hand slacks, but Soap covers it, tightens the grip and continues to fuck into Simon’s fist with quick, erratic thrusts. He’s close, his breathing ragged, his brow furrowed with desperation and concentration. Simon moans as Soap rides his oversensitive cock.

Even in his post-orgasmic state, Ghost feels the faint rush of excitement as he watches Soap coming undone and, a few seconds later, actually coming, soiling his uniform, jacket, kilt, shirt, all of it. Ghost lets them both breathe for a few seconds before Johnny lets go of his hand; Simon, in turn, let’s go of Johnny’s cock, and brings his hand to his mouth. Johnny makes a small, helpless noise as he watches Ghost lick the cum off his fingers and palm.

Simon collapses on the bed next to Johnny, exhaustion catching up to him quickly.

“You’re beautiful,” Simon whispers, unable to stop himself.

Soap stares at him for a moment before he snorts. “Aye, damn right I am, what with the black eye, all bloodied and bruised.

“You’re prettiest when you’re bloodied and bruised. And angry, I like you angry,” Ghost continues, his filter completely fried. Johnny would probably tease him about it later, but for now, he can say whatever he wants.

[soberwriter]

I am with you (Task Force 141 x Fem! Reader)

A/N: I'm not entirely sure why I wrote this. But enjoy, I guess. I did my best!

Pairing: Platonic!Task Force 141 x Reader

Warnings: Grieving, family member loss

You've been with the 141 for quite a while now. Your joining was a surprise for both sides - except Captain Price, of course - but with enough time, the whole team accepted you, everyone in their own way.

Gaz and Soap were the first ones to warm up to you. A small sarcastic response here, awful joke there and a few acts of kindness and the sergeants knew you joining the Task Force was a good idea. Ghost, on the other hand, was a little trickier. You literally had to fight tooth and nail for his acceptance, though it seemed like raining hellfire upon your enemies during a mission was enough. Captain Price only needed to witness how you could keep the three men in line - especially Soap and Gaz - to know that you wouldn't be leaving the Task Force and that you've earned your spot.

That's why it wasn't a big surprise to find you, Soap, Gaz and Ghost in the rec room, simply hanging out once all of you finished all your duties. Though, unlike you and the two sergeants, Ghost decided not to sit on the couch with you, squished with barely any room to move, and claimed the other one as his own, also staying mostly quiet.

Though, the conversation between the four of you, or three, died down the moment Captain Price entered the rec room with an odd look on his face. You could tell right away how the man was doing his best to stay calm, yet whatever he was about to say, or heard, was bothering him to some level. The uneasy feeling in your chest getting worse when his eyes landed on you, his hands clasping together behind his back as he took a step to the side and nodded towards down the hallways.

"Sergeant L/N, come to my office, please." The Captain spoke, his tone making you stand up right away and ignore the confused looks - or stare when it came to Ghost - the other men in the room gave you.

"Yes, sir." You said, quickly making your way towards Price and then following him to his office. Whenever Price used your rank and last name with such a tone, it only meant bad news. All of you knew that.

The walk to the office seemed to drag on forever, your heart hammering in your chest the whole time but it seemed to get worse the moment you entered the room and Price closed the door behind you two. You were pretty sure the man could hear it, too. It was funny, to be honest. How you could face the barrel of your enemy's gun without flinching, but the moment Price requests you in his office, you're a child, caught red-handed and waiting for your parents to pick you up from the principal's office.

"Is everything alright, sir?" You asked, not being able to handle the silence any longer. Though, when Price's facial expression shifted, you knew everything wasn't alright.

"Your family called, Y/N." Price started, stepping a little closer to you, pure sympathy on his face and that made you realize that the news he had were going to be devastating. "Your father passed away yesterday evening. The doctors are still trying to determine the cause of his passing."

When the words left Price's mouth and reached you, you felt like passing out. You could no longer feel yourself breathing, all the blood rushed down and you felt dizzy, staring at the man in front of you with wide eyes. Your father was dead. The person that was your biggest support passed away. And you weren't there.

"Y/N?" Your name being called out fell to deaf ears as you took a step back and raised your hand a bit. For what? You weren't sure. Maybe you were trying to stop Price from stepping closer, or trying to silence him even if you weren't listening.

"I need…" You started, exhaling through your nose and the air leaving your lungs only made you feel more dizzy. "I need to leave." You choked out, not sure what to do with yourself now, but still stumbled towards the door and left the office, not even bothering to close them behind yourself. Normally, it would be required of you to stay in the office a little longer, figure out the leave to go back home, which missions you wouldn't be able to go on and such. All paperwork and serious talking. Yet, it seemed like even Price deemed it not urgent enough to postpone your shock and simply let you leave.

With blank mind and already blurry vision, your feet carried you back to the rec room. You just couldn't be alone now. You didn't want to. You stopped walking the moment you found yourself in the doorway to the rec room, hand reaching out for the doorframe to keep yourself steady, but that seemed to be an unnecessary move as you slowly moved to be knelt down on the ground seconds later.

"Y/N, what's wrong?" Gaz was the first one to speak, while Soap was the first one to move, kneeling down in front of you and resting his hand on your shoulder, trying to get a better look at your face. Ghost, though, only stood up and stepped a little closer, wanting to be within earshot. Just in case.

"He's dead…" You mumbled, hands dropping to your lap as you lifted your gaze to look at Soap, not being able to focus on anything else - or anything that was too far for your blurry vision. "My dad, he's dead."

It seemed like it was enough of a confirmation for your mind to fully process what was happening. The moment the words left your mouth, a sob soon followed them and tears started to stream down your face with no signs of stopping anytime soon. Leaning forward a bit, you tried to trap the sobs so as to not cause a scene, but Soap was quick to deny you that, pushing you back with a hand to your shoulder and then pulling you into a hug, shifting a little so it wouldn't be uncomfortable.

"Oh God, he's gone!" You wailed, hands moving up to grip the back of Soap's shirt, face burying in his shoulder to keep quiet - which also didn't do much. As you sat there, on the ground and sobbing, Soap holding you up so you wouldn't collapse on the ground fully, Ghost and Gaz glanced at each other, one unsure of what to do and the other already thinking of multiple ways of how to help you. They gave you a few minutes to let it all out before the man holding you shifted, helping you straighten out and to your feet.

"Let's get you to your room, lass…" Soap spoke, almost whispered, wrapping his arm around your waist and leading you towards where your room was. In the meantime, Gaz grabbed a water bottle before following the two of you, Ghost behind him, acting like a guardian angel of some sorts.

In your room, Soap sat you down on your bed and helped you take your boots off so you could lie down, which you did after Gaz made you take, at least, a few sips of water. Letting you dehydrate from all the crying wouldn't be a smart move. Once you were comfortable, you didn't waste a second to bury your face in your pillow, your sobs near turning into screams of anguish. Yet, the three men stayed, neither of them even thinking of leaving you alone. Soap was sitting on the edge of your bed, hand on your leg and thumb rubbing slow circles to try and comfort you. Gaz was on the ground, ready to jump up and bring whatever you'll need and Ghost was sitting on a chair, near your bed, watching and providing comfort with his presence alone.

After what felt like hours of crying, you finally quieted down. A little longer and they all would've started to worry that you would get sick from crying so much. Though, you didn't pull your face away from your pillow right away, simply staying hidden as you worked on calming down fully. Thinking that, perhaps, you've fallen asleep, Soap pulled his hand away from your leg and slowly moved to stand up, signaling the other men that they could leave to not bother you while you slept. The moment you felt the warmth of the Scot's hand disappear, you let out a pathetic sound and shifted your leg to try and gain his attention.

"No, don't leave…" You whined, but stayed hidden still. "Don't leave me alone.." That was enough to make the three men sit back down, Soap's hand returning to your leg.

"It's okay, lass." Soap quickly reassured you, squeezing your leg a little and giving you a soft smile, even if you weren't looking at him. "We're not leaving. We're with you."

[invader-zim-takes]

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[blnk338]

gaz fic recs? :))

With the heaviest heart I say that I pretty much haven’t seen any that I’ve liked (PLEASE TAG ME OR SEND ME GOOD ONES) that haven’t either babied the fuck out of him or haven’t been one shots

The undertones of racism are weirdly super fuckin rampant?? Idk BUT!!! There were a few one shots that I really liked and I’ll see if I can root through my likes and find them!

Pls lmk if you guys have any reccs for literally any cod character (with less smut, if that’s okay please!!)