#gaz/reader

[ceilidho]

imagine running from a horde of zombies after you were caught off guard and sprinting through a forest, hopeless and desperate because you can't seem to shake off this horde that seems to be growing in numbers, until finally you come across a shelter carefully concealed in the pinewood, almost blending into the surrounding landscape.

the man living there must have seen you running in the distance because when you pass by, the door opens and shuts like a spider's trap, and he drags you inside and holds you to his chest so you don't so much as twitch until you hear the horde pass by. and it's large. hundreds of undead groaning and rushing by, almost clambering over one another, still thinking that they're in pursuit of you. your heart is smashing against your ribcage because you realize now that there's no way you could've outrun them or gotten away - the man at your back is the only thing standing between you and certain death.

he introduces himself as Gaz and tells you that you can spend however long you'd like with him. he's been living in the woods since the outbreak and he's been stockpiling food and water since long before. one of his old army buddies bought the bunker almost a decade back - a real prepper-type, though he passed well before the apocalypse and left the property to Gaz in the absence of any family.

you're so appreciative of his help and you aren't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so obviously you take him up on his offer and spend the week.

only when days go by and you mention that you're thinking of heading out now that the horde has long passed, he talks you out of it. seems concerned about what'll happen to you if you're on your own out there. you let him convince you to stay a little longer, but sure enough, after another few days you start to get jittery, anxious to get back out on the road because the last thing you want to do is overstay your welcome.

then you see the locks on the door. it's padlocked shut, the key nowhere to be found. you don't remember there being locks on the inside. that's the only thing you can think when Gaz comes up from behind you, planting both of his hands on your shoulders, almost as if to offer you reassurance.

"don't worry, love," he murmurs, bending low so his voice is right in your ear. "i'm gonna keep you safe. you won't ever have one of them chase you again."

[thatgoblin]

141 Men Losing Their Partner

Summary: Dead Dove Don't Eat.

WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT PERTAINING TO PREGNANCY, DROWNING, CAR ACCIDENT, MURDER, NO HAPPY ENDINGS.

Price

It had been a normal day for John, texting you at lunch to see what you wanted for dinner. It was Friday, which meant that it would be a lazy weekend after a grueling month of missions followed by an equally grueling week of training with cadets. Nothing seemed out of place as he pulled up to the house he shared with you, a small townhouse that was perfect for the time being, but with talk of a baby, you would need more room soon. 

“Love, I’m home,” John called, holding plastic bags full of Chinese cartons holding low mein and sweet and sour pork. “Love?” There was no answer. The inside was eerily quiet and John knew that quiet meant bad things. In the field, it meant that people were on the move and hiding it, but at home it meant you were either gone or hurt. After being told you would be home and waiting, he was on high alert. 

Guns weren’t a common item, but with his position he had one stashed. Stalking through the house, handgun held out as he cleared rooms, he was moving on instinct. Years of training from doing this through blown up buildings and searching for the bad guys was the only thing keeping him from running through the place and screaming your name. 

When he got to the kitchen, he spun around the corner with the gun raised, slipping on something slick and wet. Catching himself on the counter, his breath left him. 

There was so much blood. More than he had ever seen before, not even when he interrogated or was locked up in a Russian prison or even the fucking battlefield. Nothing compared the scene before him. 

John shook as he set his gun down, starting to hyperventilate as he locked eyes with your lifeless body. You were on the floor, your throat slit and body stabbed to the point that it looked like someone put ground beef on you. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t. You were the safe place he had from the world. Everything about you had been his soft landing place. He had worked so hard to keep you separated from his job and it was all for nothing. 

Going to his knees, he crawled to you. John’s hands trembled as they touched your face in disbelief. He was unable to take a proper breath, the smell of your blood stinging his senses as he pulled you to him, pressing his face to yours. There was no conscious movement as he began to rock and weep softly. Holding you tight, he stayed there till Laswell showed up. She had been invited over with her wife for a double date. Kate tried to pull him away as her wife called the police, but it triggered him to start screaming. Even when the police showed up, it took an ambo arriving to sedate him for him to let go of you. 

“Be careful with her,” he sobbed as the medics put you on a gurney. “She’s allergic to penicillin. She gets hives. Please, she needs-she needs-”

Kate held him as he broke, going silent. “We were going to have a baby,” he whispered, tears soaking his beard. “We wanted to get a new house and have a baby. We wanted. . . What am I going to do?”

Gaz

You had been on a date with Kyle, a fun outing that was desperately needed after being separated for months. You went to dinner at this greasy burger place then went to an arcade that had a giant purple dragon he swore he would get you. After five tries and lots of swearing, he finally did it. “My hero,” you cooed, holding your prize as you leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Ready to head home? I don’t think this guy is meant to be carried around for long.”

“I am if you are,” Kyle said with a grin, giving you a wink. Wrapping an arm around your waist, he pulled you along to get to the street. He held his hand up to hail a cab, holding you close as you pressed against his body. It had been too long since you had last held him and with having him home for a few weeks, you were refusing to let him go any time soon. 

“Can’t get a bloody cab for shit,” he huffed. You were about to tell him you could call for one when you heard tire screeching. There was no time to react to the car hitting the curb then the pair of you. It was milliseconds and even if either of you had been looking at it, there was no escaping it. 

The car had been speeding when it barrelled over you two. Kyle flew over the hood and slammed into the windshield as you were dragged under the tires. Screams from everyone filled the air as the car stopped for just a moment before swerving off to leave you.

“Ky-Kyle,” you wheezed, laying on the ground. Your middle had been crushed and you couldn’t feel anything below your chest. It hurt to breathe, making you choke and gasp as Kyle forced himself to drag himself to you.

“Doll,” he groaned, his leg at a bad angle and his head bleeding profusely. “Don’t move. Stay with me.”

“Kyle,” you choked out. “Cold.”

“No, please,” he whimpered, collapsing next to you as people gathered to try and help keep you still as others called the ambulance. “Darling, don’t. Please.”

“Love,” you whispered as he took your limp hand. “You.”

“Help is coming, please, just hold on,” he begged as you stayed still and quiet. “Darlin’? Baby? No, no, no, no.” The ambulance didn’t arrive for nearly an hour. Price showed up well before them. He made Kyle stay still as he kept calling for you, holding your hand. Someone had draped their jacket over your top and another person laid their’s over your middle, hoping to give you some decency as Kyle demanded that Price help you. Even when he was in danger of snapping his spine, paralyzing himself for life, he still made you the priority. 

“Gaz,” Price said softly. “She’s gone. I’m sorry, lad.” 

“No, please. She’s just-just quiet,” Kyle sobbed, his physical pain not even compared to what he was feeling when he was made to let go of you for good.

Soap

It had started out as a weekend trip to blow off some steam. You and Johnny had gone to a resort in a warm climate with crystal clear water and amazing food. There was plenty of mixed, frozen drink and tanning lotion for the pair of you to get some nice warm color back into their almost sickly complexions. 

Johnny made sure to get plenty of pictures of you in your bathing suit, specifically your ass. You  gave him shit, but he just laughed and took more. Included in your stay was a boat tour of a cave. It wasn’t the rainy season so it was safe. No sudden surges or unexpected storms. Johnny said he’d been in more dangerous pools in the UK, making you relax and trust that things would be fine. 

You weren’t the strongest swimmer, but you were good enough to get by. Add in a life jacket and Johnny next to you, you felt safe. Untouchable really. What took you by surprise was the rumble of thunder as you got halfway into the tour. 

“Don’t worry, it will miss us,” the guide said, easing any worries that would pop up. Holding Johnny’s hand, you were about to make a comment about the glowing algae when you heard a clicking pop. Turning to him, you were left speechless. 

“You know I’m not good with words, but I think this speaks for itself,” he said, holding up a rose gold ring with a set of yellow diamond leaves. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you said softly. “Yes! I would hug you aggressively, but I don’t want to lose the ring and tip the boat!” You cried with a shrieking laugh. Sliding the ring onto your finger, he pulled you close for a kiss as flashes from the phone the tour guide held reminded you that you weren’t alone. 

“I got everything recorded, Mr. Johnny,” he said with a grin, handing Johnny’s phone back to him. 

“Thanks, Mate,” Johnny said with a grin, keeping you close. As the guide turned the boat around, thunder rumbled again, much louder that time. “We’re still good, right?” He asked.

“Yeah, we’re heading back now, no worries,” the guide said as he navigated the slowly raising waters. You held onto Johnny as the thunder got louder and you could see the lightening was able to be seen from the front of the cave. 

Another rumble lasted longer, making you look around at the water. The rumbled quickly turned into a rushing sound, getting louder in seconds as a monstrous wave slammed into the cave, sending all the water rushing back. The rush slammed into the boat, making the bow lift high. With the guid on the back of the boat and you and Johnny in the middle, the weight distribution didn’t save you from being tossed into the water as the boat capsized. 

You screamed, grabbing for Johnny as you were pulled under. There was no preparation to stay under too long, your lungs burning as you blindly clawed at the bottom of the cave to find the side or top. Bursting through the surface with a choking gasp, you didn’t have time to get another breath before you were pulled back under by the rip that had been made by the current. Not even with the life jacket were you able to break through the water. 

Johnny was able to grab the guide and get him to higher ground in the cave. Dragging him onto rocks, he began to scream your name. Where had you gone!? You were right there! “Where are you!” He screamed, ready to jump back in.

“No, you will drown! It’s not safe until after the storm!” The guide cried as he grabbed Johnny’s arm. 

“My partner is in there!” Johnny snarled, but the guide fought with him, keeping him where it was safe while you were left on your own. As the flash storm rolled on, just a few minutes after it showed up, your life jacket floated out from the back of the cave. It didn’t mean anything, you could still be alive. Despite the water calming, the guide made them stay on the rocks till a rescue boat came in, shining a light on them. “There’s someone still in here!” He yelled as the men climbed into the boat. 

“We know, we have her outside,” the rescue worker said, helping them sit before turning the boat around.

“She’s okay?” Johnny asked, surprised as he never saw you since you fell from the boat. The man was quiet, not looking at him. “Is she okay?” He pushed. “Can you fuckin’ tell me if she’s alive or not!?” He snarled. All he received was silence. When the boat came out and he saw a white sheet laid over a body on the beach, he jumped from the rescue boat before it could stop. Running over, he was screaming your name as the police were taping off the beach. One of the officers tried to stop him, but he easily shoved them aside as he kept screaming. 

You were still and silent as he picked you up, refusing to let anyone near you as he wailed in grief. Holding you, he rocked the two of you as the police tried to control the growing crowd. There was nothing they could do to help him, as news crews began to swarm the beach to get pictures of the grief stricken man holding his fiancee’s body as her hand with the engagement ring dangled free for them to take pictures of and plaster on the front pages.

Ghost

 You were just a month and a half shy of being full term. When Simon had been called to do a mission, you were pissed and ready to fight Price, but Simon calmed you down before you could come at the bearded man with a cricket bat. It wouldn’t be that long and he’d be back with plenty of time for the baby to be born. 

It had only been two days when you felt contractions start. At first you thought it was Braxton Hicks contractions, but then you felt your water break. When you went to the bathroom to check, you found that it wasn’t your water. It was blood and it was soaking your underwear and pants. Calling an ambulance, you unlocked the front door so they could get in. Once you were sure they were on their way, you called Simon’s emergency line. It wouldn’t go to him directly, but he would know what was happening right away at least. Leaving your message, the ambulance arrived soon after.

Crying, you held your stomach as you were strapped to a gurney and rushed to the hospital. You weren’t being told anything, just to keep breathing as the pain grew. With your phone in your hand, you kept checking it to see if Simon was able to call, but there was nothing. At the hospital, you were rushed into surgery as you begged one of the nurses to call the emergency line again to see when Simon could call. She promised she would keep trying as you handed off your phone. Once in surgery, you were put under and the last thing you thought was a plea to any deity listening to save your baby. 

Simon got the message and was gone. He didn’t ask permission or explain. His whole team was with him, though, getting him back home as quickly as possible. It was nearly five hours later in a plane to a helicopter that took him to the hospital with some of his gear and mask still on. Jumping out of the helo before it could land fully, he ripped his mask and vest off to throw to the side as he sprinted to where you were. 

His head was empty aside from the drive to get to you. You had to be okay. You had to be. There was a nurse waiting for him at the stairs, stopping him from running blindly through the hospital. 

“Mr. Riley,” she said, not flinching under his gaze that was fire and rage. 

“Where is my wife?” He growled, towering over her. 

“You’re wife. . . I am so sorry, but she didn’t make it,” the nurse said. Simon could only hear the ringing in his ears that he would hear when he was near a concussion grenade going off. “Her uterine lining ripped and she had lost too much blood by the time she arrived at the hospital.” None of her words seemed to register to her as his team came up behind him. 

Every word was lost on him as he stood there, not responding to anything she said. Not even Price shaking him could bring him to. 

“What about the baby?” He finally asked, coming out of it enough to think of that. “Is she okay?”

“She’s stable and in the NICU. Despite being born rather early, she is healthy and will stay there till she’s considered to term to make sure she has the best chance of surviving,” the nurse said. Simon nodded, going quiet again. 

“I want to see her. I want to see my wife,” he said. The nurse nodded, knowing he would do it anyway he could. His face said it all. Taking him to the OR, she waved others on when they stopped to question why four men were being let into the room. The team held back while Simon moved forward to the white sheet covered table. With steady hands, he pulled the cover back to see your face. You looked like you were sleeping. He would watch you before you awoke for the day and this was the same face. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, stroking your hair. His gloves were long gone, leaving him bare to the world he struggled to hide from. “I’m so sorry. I should have never left.” Leaning forward, he pressed your faces together as he quietly cried. He had lost his family, then found you and it was a breath of life to him. Now you were gone and left him with a small piece of you. He didn’t know if he could do it without you, if he could be someone his daughter needed or wanted. Simon didn’t know how to be a good partner till you came along, so how could he know how to be a good dad without you?

Masterlist

Taglist: @birdstoprey @sebbytheraccoon @pricescigar @alwaysshallow @sae1kie @sleepydang @lexi-zsy09 @ghostlywhiskey @ghosts-cyphera @poohkie90 @neothewitch @shadofireshinobi @sadslasher13 @0alk0msan @xaestheticalien

[inkbybambi]

fae!gaz whom you meet in a quaint little coffee shop that’s off the main road, tucked away. it’s small and cozy on the inside, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, dim lighting, plants lining every available free space. you like the quiet, and the pastries, and the ability to feel as if you’re suspended in time for a while.

you see him one day, and you’re surprised because you’ve never seen him before, and you’ve taken note of all the regulars — being one yourself.

he already knows your name when the barista calls it out. he wants it willingly, though. he doesn’t have to wait long, thankfully. you settle into your familiar chair and pull out a half-read, well-worn book. he comes over to introduce himself.

he doesn’t give you his name, but you more than happily say yours. you like the way his eyes sparkle, the way your name sounds on his tongue.

you start to see him more often, and your heart always skips a beat when he looks to you and a soft smile graces his lips. you swear he doesn’t smile like that at anyone else. you start sitting together in that little coffee shop, comfortable silence as you read and he writes or draws or does the daily crossword. other times, he’ll ask you about your book and you help him on the puzzles.

you don’t think he actually needs your help, but you’re not about to stop.

the shop likes to have an assortment of pastries; changing with the season or holiday or whenever they think of something new to try. you share yours with him, even though he protests every time.

he starts getting the pastries before you arrive. he knows what you like, knows what you’d like to try. it’s a bit curious, but cute.

one day the pastry tastes a little off. he doesn’t seem to mind, but you know something isn’t right. gaz looks concerned and he tells you not to worry, he has something back at his that’ll make you feel better. time feels far, far different after that.

[wildechildwrites]

Bite History

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: medical inaccuracies, canon typical violence, mediocre writing

No Use of Y/N, Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: You're the 141's new medic, and Gaz seems to think that medical care is optional.

A/N: this is my interpretation of Gaz. His fanon personality (when he’s even mentioned at all… shade) isn’t my favorite. Gimme a Gaz with a lil edge.

AO3 Link: Bite History

The 141 goes through medics faster than they go through bullets, sending them out in body bags and packing, unable to handle the pressure. You had been a miracle, a firecracker that exploded onto the team, nestling into their rib cages and refusing to leave. Your very first mission out on the field had been solo with Soap, and after he took a bullet to the leg, you dragged the large man four miles back to the safe house, sewed him back up and gave him a blood transfusion from your own veins while waiting for a pickup.

“The unofficial title is ‘team blood bag’,” you had said, a wiry grin on your face. “O negative’s worth more than gold, don’t you know.”

Soap had told and retold the story for weeks, found the whole thing hilarious, like he hadn’t almost bled out, like you hadn’t been on bedrest for days to recover from the strain. Price let you needle him about his blood pressure, you monitored how Soap’s scars healed, and you even got Ghost half undressed for an exam without him biting your head off. Altogether, you felt like your time had been successful, with one omission.

Gaz had not darkened your door, not once turned to you for medical care. You knew he got wounded just as often as the other men, figured he went to lick his wounds by himself, but it bothered you. He was friendly enough with you, but you were the medic for god’s sake. It was your job, and he wasn’t letting you do it.

The next time you’re out in the field, tucked into a sniper nest, you’re watching Gaz through the scope. His movements are fluid and confident, muscle memory carrying him through. You’re fairly certain he’s got the fastest reload in the unit, but the milliseconds of difference keep everyone neck and neck. You’re watching Gaz through the scope, so you see the moment he gets stabbed, the rough flick of a hidden blade low near his hip. He soldiers on like he didn’t feel it, shoving his assailant back, neutralizing them in seconds. You think this’ll be the moment he finally comes and sees you.

He doesn’t.

You take care of the other men at the safe house, distributing bandages and passing around your flask.

“For the pain,” you say, laughingly. Price rolls his eyes but takes a heavy pull anyway. You pass it to Ghost, and before he can take a sip, Soap snatches it from his fingertips. The two men grapple playfully, and you shake your head.

When the men are taken care of and settled, you go off, hunting for Gaz. You find him sitting on a bed alone, and you stand in the doorway, listening to him hiss as he clumsily cleans the wound.

“If you don’t trust my medical expertise, you could take it up with Price instead of bleeding out on your own,” You call out. Gaz jumps, shooting you an on guard, guilty look.

“Pain is mostly mental,” he says, and you scoff, coming to join him on the bed. He tries to stand, and you shove him back lightly, vindicated when he winces.

“It’s going to ruin my career if I let you die from something as simple as a knife wound,” you say, pushing up his shirt to look at the injury. It’s not bad, will only require a couple of stitches, but it bothers you that he’s trying to deal with it himself. You make him unzip his pants so you can get better access to sew it up, and you know the stormy glances he sends your way are more about the subtle humiliation than the pain of the needle going through his skin.

“You don’t need to baby me,” he says, and you detect the lightest amount of ice behind his words.

“If you knew how to ask for help, I wouldn’t have to,” you respond, rolling your eyes. “Come see me if you pull your stitches and if you need the bandages changed.” He gives no response, and you leave him to mope.

The next time Gaz doesn't come to see you, he tries to fish a bullet out of his arm with a knife, makes a mess out of it, a bigger headache for you when you finally find him. In retaliation, you become his shadow, just to prove you can. Every mission debrief, every paper cut, you’re there, slightly smug, majorly irritating, always caring. You follow textbook guidelines that you don’t bother with for anyone else, and he’s trapped. The rest of the team adores you, and how can you complain that the medic is giving too much care? You push him a little more every day, invading his personal space, poking and prodding. It feels like a game you're playing, and you wonder if he'll ever try and push back.

There’s a trail of blood in the corridor, and the culprit is limping in front of you. You abandon what you were doing to follow him, loping after him.

“Piss off.” Gaz bites out over his shoulder, and you grin. He’s filthy, gunpowder smeared on his face, covered in grime and body fluids, and far too exhausted to deal with you. It's perfect.

You don't hesitate to follow him into the showers, watching with amusement as he ignores you, shucking his gear off, dumping it on the floor and stripping down to his boxers. He's got a nasty gash along his thigh, skin torn at the edges and bleeding steadily, and you switch to medic mode.

“Let me take a look,” you say. Gaz stares at you, his expression unreadable, but he still lets you sit him on one of the benches. You drop to your knees in front of him to properly access the wound, ignoring how he bristles at the proximity.

His dark eyes are on you the entire time you're examining him, and when you look up, he holds your gaze until you break, eyes flitting back to his injury. It severs the tension, but you can feel the axis between you two shift when you give ground. Gaz reaches down and grabs your chin, tilting your face back up towards his, forcing you to look at him again.

“You’ve been a bloody irritation,” Gaz says, and you grapple with the sardonic undercurrent of his words.

“It’s a dangerous thing to be, the way we lose our medics."

He's smiling at you, slightly crooked, his teeth white and glinting in the light, and you've never noticed how sharp his canines are until now.

Everything about him is unassuming, the grip on your face light, his tone teasing and his smile wide, but you feel as though you’ve just stepped on a landmine. You’re aware of the dampness of your knees on the ground, the echo of droplets falling from the shower heads. You've still got your hands on his thigh, frozen in place, and the muscle underneath your fingertips is like iron. Gaz just stares down at you, still smiling, and you have the sudden, irrational urge to run. Unconsciously, you bite your lip.

Then it's over, a cloud passing over the sun, and Gaz finally blinks, lets go of his hold on you, and gives you a real smile, a sweet one.

His eyes flash, an undercurrent of something new and undecipherable and dangerous, and you swear his gaze drops to your mouth for a split second.

"I figured you'd spook easy," he laughs, "all bark and no bite, you maddening thing." You manage a shaky scowl, but his laugh is contagious, and soon you're laughing too, ignoring the way your heart is still slamming against your rib cage.

“Remind me to hide the drugs next time you get shot,” you reply, almost managing to keep your voice steady. Gaz is gracious enough to let it slide, to ignore the slight tremble in your fingers when you return to tending his injury. You sit in silence for a moment.

"I'm not bad at my job, you know," you say, unable to meet his eye. "I know what I'm doing."

Gaz sighs, his posture relaxing. You look up at him through your lashes. His brown eyes are warm, his expression melancholy.

“It’s hard for me to ask for help sometimes,” he says quietly. “I don’t want the rest of the team to see me as weak.” He frowns. “I don’t want Captain Price to be disappointed in me.”

“Nobody thinks you’re weak,” you say, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “We’re supposed to look out for each other Gaz.”

“Now, don’t tell me that’s why you’ve been on my arse for the past month,” He replies, and you smile at each other. The earlier tension dissipates.

You laugh. “Maybe if you asked for help once in a while, I wouldn’t have to play tag along.”

He scoffs at you, rolling his eyes.

“If it's fatal, I'll come see you, alright? But quit nagging me or I'll do more than scare you."

You frown at him, letting go of his hand, and he's laughing at you again.

"God, you're skittish. I don't bite." Gaz smiles that wide, predatory smile again. "Most of the time."

[7s3ven]

tatted! simon motorcycle shenanigans

TATTED UP! Simon Riley who lets you turn him into a colouring book. He doesn’t care how you colour his tattoos, he just wants to see the scrunched up look of concentration on your cute face.

“What colour do you want?” You murmur as you glance at your numerous eyeshadow palettes. Simon wants to say black or grey but he sees the way you eye the pink palette for a moment too long.

“… Pink.” He finally answers, his gaze focused solely on your bright smile.

You find joy in colouring his arm with various shades of pink and purple as he watches. “Look, so cute.” You murmur, eliciting a low laugh from Simon.

“Yeah.” His voice rumbles, “You wanna colour the rest in?”

BONUS

“Aye, LT, you got your tattoo redone or what?” Jonny can barely hold back his laughter as he looks at Simon’s arm. The previously edgy tattoos were now adorned with feminine colours and glitter.

“No. Just making the misses happy.” Simon doesn’t really care for his teammates’ reactions because the memory of your smile is enough to block out Jonny’s cackles.

[sigh-tofm]

when they come home drunk…

… price

- thinks it’s important that he loudly tells you he’s married while you steady him upstairs to bed. points to his ring incessantly, slurs on and on about his perfect wonderful wife with the big ass and soft tummy. you roll your eyes and can’t help but smile when he doesn’t let you hold on to his arm to support him. something about protecting his virtue for his wife, as if you’re not standing right beside him. proceeds to lock you out of your own bedroom when you finally get upstairs, telling you his wife will be home soon so he can’t have a strange woman in their bedroom (but still remarks on your wonderful ass). you decide it’s too early in the morning to persuade your drunk husband to let you in, so you go down to sleep on the couch. you wake up with price sleeping soundly on the floor beside you, having gone to find his wife when she never showed up in his bed the night before.

… kyle

- gets sappy and apologises for being away. loses all concept of time when he’s drunk, says he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to be away so long, he was thinking of you the whole time, the guys pulled him along and he couldn’t say no. while he’s on his knees at your feet, pressing his face to your thighs and mumbling into your marbled skin, almost making you lose your balance with his fervent apologies, you gently remind him that you were the one who made him go out with the boys because he needed to unwind after a stressful weekend of combat drills, and that he had left with them less than two hours ago. he refuses to hear and only hugs your thighs closer, so much so that you have to support yourself on the wall. turns out all he needed to relax was you.

… johnny

- is horny. almost starts drooling when he eyes you at the top of the stairs, after struggling to close the entrance door for a good minute, causing you to investigate what made all the noise. gets a wild look in his eyes when he sees you in just his t-shirt and makes you scream and giggle as he chases you back up the stairs and to the bedroom. being absolutely shitfaced, he has the coordination of a tranquillised moose and stumbles head over heels across the floor, catches his foot on the doorway and narrowly misses the edge of the dresser with his head as he falls. still, his little soldier is courageously tenting his pants when you worriedly lean over him and he gets a good look right into the collar of your shirt.

… simon

- is emotional and clingy. can’t get enough of you, won’t leave you alone. you can’t make out half his words when he’s had this much to drink (and the mancunian in him breaks out too, making it ever harder to make out the words), but you play along, smile and nod and let him sit on the closed toilet seat and talk and talk while you do your night routine in front of the mirror. so lucky to have you, luv. how could’a lug like me get a pretty one like you, luv. his melancholy statements of love become comfortable background noise for you as you remove your makeup and apply moisturiser. lets you wash the sweat and grime of the day off his face with a washcloth, closes his eyes while you massage your floral-scented moisturiser into his skin, never once stopping his little speech. ambles after you out of the bathroom, holding on to the hem of your shirt, when you’re all finished and ready for bed. his devoted mutters only let up when be falls asleep next to you.

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

bear hybrid! price who stalks around your house at night, protecting you from whatever else might be lurking in the woods. you don't know that he is of course, but you should be more thankful when he shuts and locks your windows when you're asleep. occasionally you see him lumber on the edge of the forest, minding his own. he doesn't want to scare you, but he wants you to admire him, too.

wolf hybrid! simon that follows you everywhere (from a distance and he rarely lets you touch him). you were frightened at first of the big bad wolf, but when he takes you away from snakes and other dangers in the woods you learn to leave out some scraps for him. (he sleeps on your front step. won't enter the house yet.)

fox hybrid! johnny who regularly sneaks into your house to play in your blankets. the wildlife here is so friendly you're shocked, shouldn't they be frightened of you? however he sleeps under your bed and he's fine unless you try to kick him out. red fur is on everything, he seems unusually close to the wolf that looms around. loves scratches to the ears!

falcon hybrid! kyle who hovers in air around your house. he finds little trinkets for you and leaves them on your porch. he mostly hangs around price, but he will chirp greetings and steal bird feed from your feeders.

they protect you in different ways, trying to worm their way to your affections before they bed down in your abode for winter.

[ghouljams]

Absolutely cannot have fresh shaved/waxed pussy around the 141 boys.

Soap will cry over it, mourning the loss of your bush and "talking his girl(your pussy) through the loss" ie fingering you until you're soaked and sore as punishment.

Price will make it his mission to give you beard burn, shaking his head like a damn dog while he's eating you out, scratching the hell out of your pussy and thighs with his beard. He's trying to bleach the damn thing you just know it.

Ghost is the worst. Taking the opportunity to leave his dental imprint in the soft flesh surrounding your clit. He's going to bite until you're sobbing just to see the dimpled marks he's left.

At least Gaz is sweet. Pressing little kisses over the newly shaved/waxed skin, giving your clit soft little licks and pulling back to rub his fingers against your clit with gentle praises. Until you realize he's been doing that for the last hour, giving you just enough to keep you making those nice breathy noises but never giving you more. Maybe you should try Soap again...

[beloveds-embrace]

Imagine 141 moving into a quaint little town post retirement and you’re the only baker in town. You love making sweets, breads, and desserts and own a cute bakery to show for it, know everyone in your town so these four new men who come early morning to try your breakfast deal immediately excite you because- new perspectives and tastes and opinions! It’s become a habit of yours to share bites of whatever new item you plan on adding to the menu, so the more diverse opinions the merrier in your opinion.

And you are glad you didn’t let their demeanor- big gruff men, especially the one with the black surgical mask- scare you away because they are sooo nice, calling you sweetheart, doll, birdie, and bonnie. So many nicknames, it has you blushing the sweetest pink shade. And they are all too happy to help taste-test for you, giving you lots of praise.

(Though you never quite notice their immense disappointment at seeing the little ring on your finger.)

Still, at the very least one of them comes over to your bakery once a day. Sometimes they come together, sometimes only two of them- but they come anyways and tip you every time despite you insisting otherwise. It’s a lovely friendship you build with them. But they do note you never mention your partner much.

Until Simon drops by one day, intent on buying one of your apple pies and maybe fluster you enough to turn the same shade as an apple, and he sees the bruises that peek out just so from your sleeves and the collar of your outfit. Puffy eyes, more makeup than usual, your smile not quite there…

And he understands. He knows this all-too-well. And the fact that it’s happening to an embodiment of sunshine like you? Unfair. Unbelievable. Unacceptable.

Simon gently takes your hands, squeezing them so lightly. “Everything’ll be well, luvie. Promise.” And that’s all he says.

And maybe it’s cruel of you to be happy when you receive a call a few days later, the sherrif of the town telling you your husband was found mauled to death by one of the bears that roam around the woods occasionally, but you just… don’t care.

A week later, when it seems appropriate enough, you open up the bakery again and your smile is blinding as you greet the 141 men and tell them for today, everything’s for free.

part 2

Other works + help me choose a title for this 😩

[thebookbutterfly]

fanfiction isn’t enough, I need to chew on him

[ceilidho]

Gaz finding you stumbling around outside his house in the middle of a blizzard after you lost control of your car and crashed into a snowbank, and takes you inside to help you warm up. he even offers to run you a bath when you finally stop violently shivering.

only he doesn't tell you until he's shut the bathroom door behind the two of you that he'll be joining you in the tub. when you protest, he just shushes you with both hands cupping your cheeks and reassures you that he just wants to make sure you don't fall asleep and slip under the water.

but you can't help but question the veracity of that when he's got a muscled arm between your breasts, holding you fast to his chest, and stroking his middle finger over your clit until you come, peppering the side of your neck with kisses and shushing you when you tell him that it's too much.

[thatgoblin]

COD Feral Reader Drabble 1

Y/N: *slowly reaches up from squatting behind the counter to try to grab Price's coffee while he's busy talking to Laswell on the phone*

Johnny: *watches with Gaz, both taking bets to see how long it takes for Price to do something about it*

Ghost: *Is napping in a hammock with Roach on top of him*

Y/N: *slithers their hand towards the cup, eyes wide and pupils blown like a cat*

Price: *picks up the cup before it's snagged and walks away*

Y/N: *whines and pouts, chittering in irritation*

Price: *walks back in to set the cup down and walks over to Soap and Gaz* What are you two up to?

Soap: *keeps watching behind him* Just waitin'.

Y/N: *snags the cup with pleased squeaks only to find it empty, flopping onto the floor with a sad moan*

Price: I drank it all nearly an hour ago, but they needed to be kept busy so I let them think it was full.

Gaz: *snickers* Positively an evil genius.

Masterlist

Taglist: @birdstoprey @sebbytheraccoon @pricescigar @alwaysshallow @sae1kie @sleepydang @lexi-zsy09 @ghostlywhiskey @ghosts-cyphera @poohkie90 @neothewitch @shadofireshinobi @sadslasher13 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @xaestheticalien

[devil-in-hiding]

something something reader is a bartender at a popular little pub, and night after night you are hit on by men so plastered you often have to sigh and call over one of the guys you work with the idiots end up vomiting all over themselves (sometimes it’s worse than vomit but thankfully you can count those incidents on one hand)

you think by slipping on your grandmothers old wedding ring, it will sway men from hitting on you at work. And it does, there’s still some that try to test their luck, but the minute you flash that pearl on your finger they’re scurrying off to find their next target.

Cue four new regulars, four attractive military men that always flash you a polite smile and leave you a nice tip. Price comes in more than the others, claiming the stool near your register for himself, Ghost doing the same the rare nights he slinks into the pub. Soap and Gaz come in together some weekends, sitting themselves in front of you with big grins on their faces as they watch the game on the tv overhead.

They’re all sweet, a little cocky at times but nothing that one of their grins or sly remarks can’t make up for. They ask how their favorite girl is doing when they return from longer missions, genuinely listening as you fill them in on the things that have happened since they’ve been away.

Perfect gentlemen.

Until one night you forget your ring, having had to rush your shower and sprint out the door to make it to the pub before the nightly rush.

You filling glasses when you hear the chime of the bell and a familiar laugh fill the pub.

“Was wondering if I’d see you boys tonight.” You smile, motioning for them to give you a moment as you serve the other patrons.

When you slide back over to them, you immediately reach for their usual glasses, grabbing your cloth to wipe them off, when a hand clamps around your wrist and you jump, nearly dropping the glass as Ghost turns your hand over in his.

“Trouble at home pretty?” Price comments, concern etched on his face and it takes a moment for you to catch on, and you can’t help the little giggle that spills out.

“Oh! My ring… It’s kind of a funny story. I uhm.. I’m not actually married.” You laugh, expecting them to laugh along with you, but all you feel are four pairs of eyes piercing into you.

“Come again?” Gaz asks, voice a tad deeper than usual and you ignore the chills it sends down your spine.

“I started wearing it so some of the drunkards would leave me be, kind of forgot about it, just became habit.” You chuckle nervously, hand still in Ghost’s grasp and he’s eyeing you in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Hm. Interesting.”

[writersdrug]

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish is the kind of dad who throws your kids around for fun, tossing them into the air and catching them just to hear their infectious laughter, ignoring the worrisome protests that you call out from the kitchen when they get a little too high.

Captain John Price is the kind of dad who convinces your children to ask you for pizza for dinner, acting all surprised when you tell him to call the local pizza place, eyebrows rising with "What's the occasion?" despite the obvious grin that his plan worked. You aren't fooled.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is the kind of dad who chases your kids around with a nerf gun, relentlessly pelting them with styrofoam bullets and ganging up on your oldest son with your youngest daughter. Waits behind the front door for your son to get home from school and immediately fires on him.

Simon "Ghost" Riley is the kind of dad who holds your toddlers like footballs, your daughter tucked sideways under his arm and dangling your son by his ankle. "Found these mice sniffin' 'round the cookie tin." He says with a deadpan expression, but you don't miss the way his mouth twitches when they giggle and shriek.

[hidingwhere]

John Prices wife coming to pick him up at the airport after he returns from a mission, but the car is now full of military men.

One look at the three boys, completely exhausted and pulling their phones out to book a taxi had your heart crying. Without thinking, you offered them all a lift to yours and Johns home for them to stay overnight.

So now there’s three men cramped onto your three backseats, John having the luxury of sitting in the front. Simon is on the end (still in his balaclava but luckily not the skull mask because you’d be a little creeped out seeing that every time in the rear view mirror), Johnny in the middle and then Kyle on the other end. Johnny complains for about 10 minutes that he’s squished in and has no room to move but after that he’s completely zonked out on Simons shoulder.

Your music plays quietly through the speakers and they’re happy to listen to anything that isn’t gun shots or explosions.

Once you arrive home, they all climb out the car, grabbing their bags from the boot and dumping them down in the living room.

“Place looks less lifeless than last time I was here,” comments Johnny.

“Finally got a woman’s touch to it,” adds Kyle.

You smile a little at the non-direct compliment. Price also looks around, noticing the little details that have changed or the things that have been added around his house, keeping a hand on your back. He leans down and kisses you gently, mumbling “I missed you” against your lips.

“I missed you too. But it looks like you’ve lost weight.” You glance down at his body. “I’ll fatten you up again,” you tease with a little giggle as he chuckles.

It’s around 9pm by the time you’ve cooked dinner for four people who have appetites of bears. They all look at you as if you’re an angel sent from heaven when they see the food, sitting down at the dining table silently and scoffing down the meal.

By 10pm, you go into the living room thinking they’re all watching TV but instead they’re all asleep. You grab some spare blankets from beside the sofa and cover them up except for John. You shake him awake and make him move upstairs into bed with you. There’s no way you’re letting him sleep on the sofa and not with you after weeks apart.

[khioneee]

tap out. pt ii.

warnings. mentions of death, emotional distress, grief and loss, pregnancy.

a few years later, another tap-out ceremony arrives, but this time, the air feels different—heavier, somber. simon’s been gone for over a year, his deployment unexpectedly extended due to an incident overseas. you’d been told he couldn’t come home for a while, but that didn’t make the waiting any easier.

today, you stand among families who aren’t just here to tap out their loved ones but to say goodbye to those who didn’t make it home. tears stream down faces as loved ones gather around caskets, grieving the soldiers they’d lost. the sight fills you with a mix of dread and relief, knowing simon is still out there, waiting.

simon stands in formation, rigid as always, but he has a sense for you. before you even appear in his line of sight, he knows you’re near. but imagine his surprise when he catches a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision, a small bundle wrapped securely in your arms.

his heart hammers in his chest, quickening as he realizes what this means. his breath catches, his eyes fixed on you as you approach. you look up at him, your eyes sparkling, a knowing smile on your face as you watch the subtle changes in his expression—the slight twitch of his eyebrows, the way his breathing picks up as it dawns on him.

both of you had been trying for a baby before he left, and now, standing before him, you hold that precious life in your arms. it had been a struggle going through pregnancy without him, feeling his absence during every kick and every sleepless night. but seeing him now, looking more than ready to meet your child, all the pain fades away, replaced by a joy so profound it fills every inch of you.

‘daddy’s home,’ you whisper softly, tilting the blanket so simon can see her tiny face, fast asleep, a perfect mirror of him in miniature. she’s got his nose, his quiet strength already etched into her tiny features.

with tears in your eyes, you reach up, your hand finding his cheek, tapping him out in the gentlest of touches.

the moment your hand connects, simon moves, breaking formation as he pulls both of you into his arms, holding you close as if he’ll never let go. his voice is thick with emotion, barely a whisper as he murmurs, ‘my loves.’

you knew your husband had a reputation in the military—a man as cold and unyielding as steel, a fortress no one could break. but as he held you and your newborn in his arms, that carefully built facade cracked, revealing a vulnerable side of him that only you ever saw. the tough soldier was gone, replaced by a man whose heart lay entirely with his family.

‘do you want to hold her?’ you ask softly, watching his eyes light up with a blend of surprise and joy.

‘her?’ he whispers, voice catching on the single word, as if it’s almost too much for him to believe.

you nod, smiling through a haze of happy tears. ‘her.’

with slow, reverent movements, you pass your daughter to him, watching as she looks impossibly tiny cradled in his strong arms. simon looks down at her with a mixture of wonder and fierce protectiveness, as though he’s already memorizing every detail of her face.

as if sensing her father’s gaze, the baby yawns, a soft little sound that makes simon’s eyes shine with awe. you catch the faintest smile pulling at his lips, a rare, tender expression that he reserves only for moments like this.

he leans down, pressing his lips gently to her forehead. ‘never gonna let anything happen to you,’ he murmurs, voice thick with love and quiet promise.

while simon was lost in his quiet moment with your daughter, a loud shout cut through the air, breaking the peaceful silence.

‘is that our baby i see?!’

simon’s head snapped up, his expression immediately shifting to something harder. he turned to see soap grinning widely, practically bouncing with excitement. with a sigh, simon reached over and smacked the back of soap’s head, though his movements were careful not to jostle the sleeping baby in his arms.

‘there’s people grieving, you idiot,’ simon muttered, but soap only snickered, completely unfazed.

‘and what do you mean, ‘our’? she’s y/n’s and mine. you’re not part of this relationship, mate,’ simon added, his tone dripping with mock irritation.

but soap, undeterred, just ignored him and held out his hands, wiggling his fingers in a display of exaggerated excitement. ‘oh, come on! let me hold our child!’

simon groaned, looking down at you with a glance that seemed to ask, ‘do i really have to put up with this?’ but he couldn’t hide the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as soap’s enthusiasm filled the air around you.

reluctantly, and with another sigh, simon finally leaned over, carefully passing your daughter to soap, though not without a low, ‘if you don’t keep her calm, you’re not holding her again.’

soap just grinned, taking her into his arms as if he’d won the lottery, cradling her gently and cooing softly.

soon after, the rest of task force 141 gathered around, drawn by the excitement, each member eager to catch a glimpse of the new addition to the family.

you and simon stood to the side, watching with cautious eyes as they took turns holding her, each one adopting a careful gentleness you wouldn’t have expected from hardened soldiers.

price held her with a proud grin, murmuring something about ‘training her to be the next captain,’ while gaz made her giggle softly with his gentle cooing. even the usually reserved roach softened as he held her, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

you glanced up at simon, watching his face as he stood beside you, arms crossed in a show of casual indifference.

but you knew him too well. beneath the mask of stoicism, there was something warmer, a subtle softness in his gaze as he watched his team, his family, sharing this moment with him. this gruff, unbreakable soldier, who had once thought he’d lost everything, had found a new family among them, one that shared in his joys and sorrows alike.

reaching over, you took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. he didn’t say anything, just gave your hand a quick squeeze in return, a quiet acknowledgment. but you could see it in his eyes, that gratitude for a family he never expected to find—a family that had now become part of yours.