#tf 141 ghost x reader

[undercoveravenger]

Room in The Den

Pairing: Hybrid!141 x Male!Reader

A/N: Intended as an early-stages poly relationship, but could also be interpreted as platonic.

-----

It’s a bullshit new law that does it. Some asshole lawmakers deciding that just because there’s some small fraction of animal DNA in them that they can’t do their jobs right without ��an actual person” watching over them that gets you assigned to the 141.

Sure, joining a team that elite is an honor, but it’s something you’d have wanted by your own merits, not just because someone who’d never seen real combat in their lives thought your new colleagues needed someone fully human to reel them in. 

You’ve seen their numbers - they don’t need you and you’re sure as hell they don’t want you encroaching on the bond that their experiences have fostered between them. That’s why you come in expecting the animosity. 

You were right. Captain Price is cordial enough, he shakes your hand without crushing it and says he’s eager to work with you but his smile doesn’t meet his eyes and the terseness in his voice tells you he’s just saying it to be polite. He’s run this task force long enough to know how to do his job without you there. His Lieutenant doesn’t even grant you that. The sergeants seem wary and you don't blame them but you know that it’s better to be someone like you that knows their worth than one of the holier-than-thou bureaucrats they’d been considering assigning to this post, so you’ll just have to try to find your place in the team.

-----

Soap is the easiest to win over. He finds you in the gym one night long after everyone else had retired back to their bunks, ripping through reps at the bench press without a spotter. He’s thrown for a minute, used to being the only one up this late since the rest of the squad is mostly diurnal, but he’s content enough to admire the way your compression shirt is darkened with sweat and to watch your muscles shift with each movement. Can feel himself drooling a little at the spice of your scent, heady and masculine and tempting enough to make him want to bite.

 He wonders a little, whether you’d be able to keep up with him and he can’t help the steady pace his tail picks up behind him as he decides he’s going to find out.

You’ve got your eyes closed and earbuds in like you’re the only one for miles and yet you still seem to sense him as he drops his bag and moves to stand near you. 

“S’dangerous,” he says as you re-rack your weights and pull an earbud out, “To lift without someone to spot you.” 

You nod, it’s one of the biggest rules of gym safety for a reason, but you’d never been great with rules. “Never much liked askin’ for help,” you admit after a minute. “Didn’t wanna bother anyone.”

He hums, and you don’t feel judged, just understood, “Well, you’re stuck with the lot o’ us now, whether you like it or not,” he grins, wolfish and happy, and moves to stand at the head of the bench to spot you, “Bother away.” And just like that, you’ve got yourself a new workout buddy.

It’s like he’s your self appointed shadow after that, waiting outside your door every morning with a freshly made protein shake in each hand, one for each of you. He’ll get all whiny about it too if you say no, pointy wolf ears drooping and tail falling still behind him. He looks like he’s about to cry until you finally relent and take yours from him (he perks up right away every time, the little faker). Eventually you learn that it’s easier to just take it from him without the fight and let him ramble on about whatever he’d seen on tiktok the night before as he walks you to your office.

He joins you for meals too, complains about the amount of food on your plate and scoops bites off his own plate to supplement yours despite your protests. His Ma had always told him growin’ up that he had to eat plenty of protein if he wanted to be big and strong and protect his pack, so he’s just tryin’ to do the same for you and doesn’t understand why you feel the need to argue about sharing food.

You’re part of his pack now, and Soap’ll be damned before he neglects one of his packmates, just don’t be surprised if he starts bullying his way into your room at night too - he’s a cuddler.

-----

Gaz warms up to you next, though he always blames the blood loss if someone asks what won him over. He’d joined you and Soap for your evening workouts a few times, and grinned at each other when you passed in the halls, but it’s not until the morning after a brutal op that he really starts to see you as part of the team.

It’s early. Barely three-thirty in the morning when the heli touches down and maybe only four when the squad tumbles through the doors but you’re right there with the rest of them. Price is already headed down to the administrative wing for a debrief and Ghost has a snoring Soap over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes on his way to the barracks, and then there’s just the two of you.

You’ve got one of Gaz’s arms over your shoulder and an arm heavy around his waist, tucked snug under his bleeding wing, taking most of his weight as you help him limp through the halls. You hang a left instead of the right that would lead to the infirmary, instead guiding him into your office. You sweep whatever paperwork had been on your desk aside, and help him up to sit, legs hanging off one side of your desk and wings cascading over the other.

You’re quick to shrug off the outer layer of your tactical gear and cast it aside, pulling out a sizable med kit from under your desk and settling on your knees in front of him. You ask him if it’s okay, before you help ease his cargo pants down enough to get to the wound on his thigh and he finds himself taken aback since their usual medic would just muscle them off or cut them away to get at it. You wait until he nods to start tugging at the fabric, fingers careful and intent as you work the material free from the torn flesh. 

He watches as your gaze flickers over the wound and you reach for what you need without even looking. He’s been told his eyes are intense before, it’s normal for bird of prey hybrids, perhaps especially so for golden eagle hybrids like him, but he’s never quite understood the way people describe being pinned in place by his gaze until now. 

You work fast, sterilizing, stitching, and then bandaging his wound with a speed that would rival the military doctors in the infirmary, and the stitches seem more sturdy than he can remember his last ones being. 

Once you’re satisfied with his leg, you stand and move behind him to get a better look at his wing. He'd taken a bullet to it, right through the meat of the muscle, and he knew he’d be grounded a long while until it healed. You hesitated then, unsure if he’d be okay with you touching such a personal area as his wings. 

Gaz swallows hard, trying to think of the last time someone other than himself had handled his wings, and nudges it back into your hands. You’re remarkably gentle, he thinks, as your fingers card delicately through rich caramel feathers until you’re able to uncover the bullet hole. You use a pair of tweezers, to make sure that there are no lingering bits of shrapnel, and a tiny set of scissors to trim back any of the soft downy feathers that could catch in the wound as it heals. 

He’s started churring by the time you’re done, a sort of contented trill from the feeling of someone else preening his wings, despite the lingering pain from the injuries. His golden eyes snap back to focus as you nudge a water bottle and granola bar into his hands with a muttered apology that it was all you had on hand, and he’s still plenty happy because you’re trying to be part of his flock by preening him and providing for him. He churs the whole while as you guide him back to his room and help him into bed.

Gaz quickly becomes a regular participant of you and Soap’s late night gym sessions and joins you for mealtimes once in a while after that night.

-----

Truthfully, you still don’t know what convinced Ghost you were worth knowing, but he supposes that’s because you hadn’t known he was there. He’d been on his way to deliver a mission report from Price to one of the other admin when one of his rounded ears caught the sound of your raised voice. His curiosity drew him to the door, cracked just enough that he was able to see you stood across a table from a trio of generals, arms crossed and back straight. 

“I appreciate your congratulations,” you growled, and Ghost was taken aback by the ferocity in your voice. He’d never heard you speak like that before, not even in the field. “But I am not the one who should be hearing it.”

His ears prick forward, tugging against the thick fabric of his mask as he listened closer, intrigued. 

“With all due respect, Major, task force 141-” one of the pencil pushers started.

“No,” you interrupted, hands coming down hard on the desk between you and the other officers, “They are due the commendations. They are the ones who built this team from the ground up. Sure, there have been successful missions since my joining, but those are not only my achievements. If you want to offer a public congratulations on a successful operation, it will be to my entire team, not just the picture you think would be easiest to publish.”

With that, you turn from the board of your superior officers and head for the door, ignoring their protests, and Ghost has to scramble back in order to avoid being hit with the door. 

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” you say as you see him, moving out of his way. “Didn’t see you there,” and for once that doesn’t sound like some slight against his panther genetics, just a plain statement - he’d been behind the door and you hadn’t meant to nearly clip him with it. You clap him on the shoulder and head off down the hall back toward your office and Ghost is tempted to drop the file where he stands to follow you, one simple interaction you hadn’t meant for him to see enough to convince him there was far more to you than he’d thought. 

You weren’t just some babysitter added to their little family to observe them like they were no more than wild animals - you actually saw their worth and were willing to fight for it?

An amused little huff escapes him and Ghost forces his attention back to the task at hand, spotted tail lashing smoothly behind him as he turns and continues on his way, sharp claws digging puncture wounds into the folder he’d been sent to deliver and your words ringing in his mind.  

----

Price was the last to come around to you being a part of their little family, though he’d never been outright hostile the way Ghost had at first. He’d done his best to be professional with you, complying with the needed paperwork and taking your insights on each operation under consideration, though he never deliberately sought you out. 

That didn’t mean he could avoid you when the team had a mission though, especially not now with the five of you piled into a much-too-small cabin in the mountains near where intel suggested one of Makarov’s bases were. Laswell had just radioed in to let Price know there was a snowstorm incoming so evac might be delayed and to expect to hunker down at least another two nights.

With only two bedrooms and a total of three small beds between them, you’d volunteered to take up roost on the lumpy couch in the living room so he’s not surprised to see you there, so much as he is by your company. You’re sprawled out in about the middle of the couch with Gaz tucked comfortably against your side, your arm around his shoulder and one of his wings curling around the both of you. As Gaz’s wing shifts, Price notices Soap curled against your legs, snoring away, but he freezes as he sees Ghost.

Everyone on the team has gone through hell, but Price knows Ghost has dealt with more than his share. Nightmares aren’t uncommon for any of them, but for Ghost a decent night’s sleep was an incredible rarity. That’s why he’s so startled to see Ghost stretched comfortably along the rest of the couch with his head on your lap and his face nuzzled into your stomach, skull mask gone in favor of his more casual balaclava, and his breathing deep and even.

A pleased little huff escapes Price, warmth spreading in his chest at the sight of his three favorite people curled up together happy and comfortable. And if you were part of that? Well, there was plenty of room for one more in that old bear’s heart.

[itsoutrageouss]

It’s the first time Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley sees you cry that something in him changes profoundly. You had always had your different skill sets out on the field, it was what made you such a powerful duo for the task force. You were sly, agile, a killer in the dark and he was a brute show of force and strength, able to kill with his bare hands. You argued a lot, though. Your differences that made you work so well also made you clash time and time again. He found you annoying. You found him arrogant.

But after a mission, Ghost finds you collapsed on the floor in an empty building— Crying. He’d never seen you do that before, but he knew you were a softer more sensitive soul, you were just good at hiding it.

He was moving before he realised it, crouching down in front of you, eyes narrowed as he tried to find your gaze that was lost in a heap of warm tears. His hands got clammy and his throat dry because how could he make it stop? It was like the sight had reached in and seized a part of him long gone, maybe one he’d never found before now.

“Stop crying.” He said foolishly, but his tone had lost its usual edge, and the very rare lilt of pleading had laced into his voice. Why did he suddenly grab your shoulders and press your trembling body into his? He had no clue but he wanted to shield you from whatever had made you look so vulnerable before him.

A part of him didn’t like seeing this, didn’t recognise the garbled sound of soft sobs, the way your body’s strength seemed to evaporate into a fragile, soft one that he wanted to pick up and put back together. Another part of him was sucking in this moment, afraid it would get lost and maybe feeling a bit guilty about it. But this feeling of… was it protection? Protection, yes. He’d never had it like this before. Usually, protecting means killing and hurting. Right now it meant nurturing as your small hands reached around his neck and you curled into him. He reacted immediately, sitting down and scooping you into his lap.

He closed his eyes, his chin resting on your head with a sigh. He had no idea what came next. This had to change your dynamic in some way because he couldn’t ever look at you the same. He saw your softness and maybe he fell in love with it right there, and wanted to be the one you showed it to. Only him.

“Im sorry” You whispered into his chest. His hands flexed around you, fighting the urge to smother you even more against him.

“Dont say that. Just keep holding onto me.” His voice was more hoarse than usual as his fingers unconsciously combed through your hair.

Whatever had happened, he was sure you felt it too, or you would’ve never let him this close. And he wished for everything you would let him again one day.

pt. 2 pt. 3

[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.

[beloveds-embrace]

Telling Ghost/König you are too heavy for him to pick up or sit on his face, and he doesn’t say anything at first so you think he just accepted it even if your heart kinda twinged a little in pain because you know you are just not skinny enough-

Only for him to send you a video the next day: in the gym, looking mighty hot in a compression shirt and sweatpants just a touch low on his hips, and lifting a bar with ease. On a closer look? The weighs attached to the bar weigh far more than you do. And he so easily maneuvers and controls and manhandles it…

Between the heat curling in your stomach, face pink and thighs clenched shut, you almost miss the incoming text.

Never too heavy for me, doll.

[cj-theyoungling]

Husband Ghost who is obsessed with his wife. He refuses to tell her no, whatever his wife wants, she gets. Anything she even mentions wanting ends up in their shared home. She mentions a beautiful cookware set, she finds it in the cabinets later that week. She complains that her nails are grown out, later her nail tech calls and says that Ghost has paid for a years worth of nail appointments (with tip). Anything to make his wife smile

When Ghost is home his wife doesn't have to lift a finger. He loves the idea of a "traditional marriage" but he's actually a traditional man. He comes home and and does any repairs you need on the house. He's going to buy groceries, doing car maintenance, landscaping the lawn, doing the laundry. Anything his little wifey needs.

Any hobbies she has are always encouraged and paid for by Ghost. Constantly sending packages full of cooking supplies, yarn, stationary, and paints to the house while he's gone. He always wears the things she makes for him. They are bundled in blankets she knitted while eating brownies she baked. All while you are going through the scrapbook you had made while he was on deployment.

He refuses to argue with his wife. A firm believer in "happy wife, happy life". Anything his wifey doesn't like or want to do doesn't happen. She doesn't like his tie, he's changing. She doesn't feel like going out, he's helping her out of her dress and making them hot cocoa. Nothing she can do can upset him. He's so in love with her that anything she does is perfect to him.

[stargirlstabber]

imagine the task force 141 falsely accusing you of being a traitor to the team. knowing your biggest fear, they use it against you. water. water, where your feet can't touch the ground. water you can't see through. at first it started with waterboarding. then slowly but surely they threatened to drop you into the pool. into the dark, deep pool. even john, who was like a father to you before, didn't help you. no. not at all. actually, he was the one who stepped into the water fully clothed, dragging your crying and squirming form with him into the bloodcurling liquid. your tears blended in with it while you we're screaming, practically begging that you were the wrong one. that you'd never do something like that. but they just stood at the edge of the pool, watching their captain almost drowning your terrified self. how would they react, when they get the information that you really weren't the one...?

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Ghost: I cut my finger Y/N: I can kiss it so it'll get better Ghost: That works? Y/N: Yeah my mum used to do it when I was little *later* Ghost: I need you to punch me in the mouth Roach: Fucking finally

[vanillarosekiss]

in bed thinking of how olderbf!Simon would treat you during sex…

warnings: heavy smut with no plot, in media res, afab!reader x simon, praise, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it people!), MDNI.

Thighs spread open as wide as possible to Simon’s request, he held you locked in a mating press, bullying his thick cock into your pretty pussy whilst continuing to praise you as you moaned for him.

“Pretty girl, so good for me” he said, hitting your g-spot over and over again, relentlessly.

“Si.. ” is all you managed to say before he slammed his hips into yours again, making you moan even louder.

“Shh baby, relax. I’ve got you” he reassured you, his hand stroking your cheek as he leant down to save you with a sweet kiss, his other hand reaching down to rub your clit gently as he slowed his pace.

Your hips instinctively bucked upwards as he added more pressure to your sensitive clit, his mouth moving to your neck to continue giving you little kisses.

“Si it’s too much!” you cry, beginning to feel your climax approaching.

“You’re doing so well baby, you can take it” he replies, ignoring your protests.

“I can’t, Simon- I can’t..” you mumble between gasps and moans, his pace starting to fasten and his hands leaving your clit alone now. You shift your hips up, hoping for any type of friction against your nub due to the sudden loss making it feel unbearable. As Simon’s dick buries deeper in you, your walls squeezing tight around him, his neatly trimmed lower pelvis brushed against your clit, giving you slight solace.

“My gorgeous girl, you’re so close” he grunts slightly, his breathing rapid due to his pace.

You feel your stomach turn in delight as you come, walls gummy and tightening around Simon’s cock.

“Simon!” you exclaim his name loudly as you finish around him.

He doesn’t reply, too focused on reaching his own climax now that he’d taken care of his baby.

You feel his dick twitch inside you as his hot spurts of cum paint your walls white. His head tips back as he reaches his peak, groaning through his orgasm whilst his legs buck around your hips.

I really need a bf… get me an older man rn.

[deunmiu-dessie-sideblog]

lmao thinking about how the tf141 men know you're serious by the way you say their given names. like they just turn docile immediately, no matter what they're doing or their positions.

“kyle, johnny, zip it.” swiveling in your chair, you turn your gaze towards them and glare, lips set into a thin line. the two men who sit next to each other stop their quiet bickering and nod softly, focusing on laswell once more.

ghost usually avoids doing med checkups when the time of year rolls around and it just ends up making the medical professional's jobs harder than it needs to be (they usually come to you in order to get him to do it.) “simon, i’m not in the mood. now.” he sulks and broods (swears he doesn't.) but nonetheless does the med check up, that you sit in on so he doesn't run.

price isn't exempt from it either, despite being captain. during a mission including farah and her people, the two had been going back and forth on the trek to the meet-up point. annoyed you had stopped price with a hand to his chest and met his eyes. “john, leave it alone. we don't have time for this.” he’d kept eye contact for a bit but had nodded, clapping you on the shoulder. “heard, seargent.”

ppl call you the 141 whisperer 💀 lolll

[canyonmooncreations]

I can’t stop thinking about bratty princess reader x bodyguards 141

Something something your life is ruined now that your father has hired four broody body guards to be with you at all times. They usually rotate shifts, one staying with you at all times.

Sometimes events call for three of them or all of them. So when it’s time for a royal ball and three of them are needed, Simon opts to sit this one out in hopes to avoid the uncomfortable socialization.

After the ball, John stays at the palace with you and Kyle and Johnny join Simon back at their residence. Simon is absolutely baffled when the boys don’t shut up about how bratty you were and the major attitude adjustment you need.

Talking about how you refused to follow directions, even when they were for your safety. Refused to buckle up in the car and struggled so much that Johnny had to hold you down while Kyle buckled you up. Pouting the rest of the way home. Refused to eat dinner at the ball and insisted they stop at a drive through even though that wasn’t on your itinerary. Threatening to get them fired if they don’t take you.

The boys go on and on about your behavior and Simon just listens, dumbfounded.

“What’s that face for Riley? She even worse with you?” Johnny asks with a frustrated tone.

Simon shakes his head. “No attitude for me.”

The boys both start laughing. There’s no way that’s true. You’re truly a spoiled rotten brat, they think. There’s no way that he’s serious.

They never believe him until there’s an event that calls for all four of them. Simon’s with you at the palace while you get ready. The three boys pull up out front ready for you to join.

They watch as you walk nicely to the car and climb into the middle settling in next to Johnny. Simon climbs in after you. The boys are ready for the battle of asking you to buckle up.

“Buckle, princess” Simon grumbles.

“Yes, Mr. Riley.” The car goes silent. Johnny and Kyle look like their eyes are about to pop out of their head. John doesn’t miss the way your cheeks blushed red.

The car ride is silent. The boys are too shocked to say anything. Since when did you have manners and the ability to follow instructions? John drives with a grin on his face. Simon is unphased as you rest your head on his shoulder.

At the event, you are on your best behavior. You eat your food, move when instructed to move, and smile the whole time. The boys are genuinely so shocked at this new side of you. They watch in awe as Simon approaches you and the ever present feisty look is no where to be found.

“Ready to go?” Simon asks softly.

“Can we please stay a little longer?” You ask so kindly. Simon nods and finds his protective position.

“Did she just say please?” Johnny asked exasperated.

“She doesn’t even know what that word means!?!?” Kyle is just as shocked. John just chuckles and shakes his head.

They then watch as minutes pass and you gently tap Simon and tell him you are ready to leave.

When you get to the car, Johnny decides to put this to the test. Simon gets you in the car and closes the door to talk to the event staff before leaving.

“Buckle up sweetheart.” Johnny instructs.

You give him a polite nod and buckle up quickly. John lets out a chuckle and before Johnny can’t say anything before Simon is joining them in the car. “Bloody hell.” is all that is heard as the car falls silent.

On the way home, you lean over the Simon and ask if you could stop for ice cream. He replies with a simple “No, princess” and is met with no reaction from you. A slight nod and your head falls back against his shoulder.

Kyle is about to lose it. You threatening to get them fired if they didn’t take you through the drive through the other day. What the fuck has Simon done to you??

Something something and now it’s the end of the night. Simon has got you settled into bed and walks into the castle living room to review how tonight went with the security team.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Johnny and Kyle stare at him as if he’s accomplished the impossible.

“Told ya, no attitude with me.”

John chuckles and pats Simon on the back as he grins.

A/n: is this dumb?? It’s been eating my brain for a four hour car ride 😭😭

[luminni]

I have a feeling Johnny would try and set up Simon with one of his friends

like

“M’ tellin ya mate yer going tae like ‘er,” Johnny teased, bounding a couple steps in front of Simon, turning back to him and rocking back and forth on his heels, hands shoved into his pockets to protect them from the cold. As Price often quipped, the 'scott can't stand still for the life of him.'

“Mhm,” Simon just grumbled in response.

“See mate, That’s the attitude that scares all the girls away.” Johnny commented, hands outstretched and exaggerated.

“Whatever.” Simon huffed, shaking his head. Johnny wasn’t wrong, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done anything with a girl that wasn’t a quick lay, and even then it had been months, not to mention going out on a proper date. Well, a date was a stretch, you were Johnny’s close friend for a couple years. He had heard of you, but never met you and now Johnny was insisting that he go on a date with you because he was convinced it was going to work well, Simon wasn’t convinced in the slightest.

“She’s real nice though- so put away the tough guy act big man- girls don’t like that.” Simon couldn’t believe he was getting dating advice from his sergeant, so he just doubled down and kept scowling but Johnny kept pressing. “I'm telling you she's a real sweet girl, kinda lass who would try tae make a crying baby laugh on the tube or go and feed some mangy stray dog, perfect for a prickly bastard like yerself.”

“Okay okay, Jesus. ’s not like ’m going to scare ‘er off on purpose.” Simon relented 

“You better not, gettin' laid might do ya' some good man, calm yer ass down a wee bit” Johnny chuckled

Simon would have yelled at him for that comment but his friend cut him off, “‘Kay we’re ‘ere,” Johnny chirped, “Gaz and his girl should be inside already and she’ll be ‘ere soon,” Johnny said, pushing his Lt. through the pub door.

Johnny had invited Kyle and his girlfriend for a kind of double date situation because he thought having another girl there would help you feel more comfortable, something Simon couldn’t argue with. Why Johnny’s single ass would be attending was a mystery.

and he's been playing both sides

“Ya like serious guys right?” Johnny had asked you out of the blue, a week or so prior while hanging out at your flat.

“Uh yeah sure? I mean I guess so, more than immature assholes like you.” You had joked back across the small kitchen.

“Well,” He had began, unphased by your teasing, “There’s this guy I work with-”

“Don’t even.” you cut him off

“Wha'?!” he whined

“Don’t try and set me up with one of your military bros,” you warned, “I’m not interested.”

“Jus' 'cause yer last dates 'ave been busts doesnae mean you shouldn't keep tryin’,” He pleaded, catching the sponge you threw at him, “He’s a real good guy, kinda intimidating but you’d like him, promise!”

You glared at him before going back and forth, Johnny was really trying to sell this guy, and he wasn’t wrong, your last three dates had been nothing short of disasters. So, after lots of pleading -and a couple tasteful photos from them at the gym- you agreed. So as you walked closer and closer to the pub, your nerves were buzzing. Just gotta get past his tough exterior is all, Johnny’s words of advice rang through your head. Thankfully he had invited another one of his friends there along with his girlfriend, you would have been hyperventilating if it was just going to be you and some guys. As you reached for the door, you could only hope Johnny was right about this guy.

So, who would be surprised when it actually works out, when Simon actually falls in love with you and your sweet smile at first site. When you find his corny and sometimes morbid jokes genuinely funny, having to cough around your drink to prevent spitting it out.

Johnny's just happy Simon might finally chill out, and he won't have to listen to you complain about failed dates every other week.

[undercoveravenger]

Premeditated

Pairing: Criminal!Soap & Ghost x Detective!Male!Reader (Eventual poly 141 & reader)

This is Part 2 of this AU - to check out part one Click Here

Warnings: Suggestive (Soap’s a horny mf), allusions to crime (arson)

-----

Johnny’s “second date” with you happens exactly as he’d planned. Price and Ghost had been able to clear any evidence linking him to the explosion on Makarov’s side of town while Gaz had “miraculously found” footage of him at one of the relatively legitimate businesses the 141 operated timestamped precisely at the day and time of the incident. With nothing to link him back to the crime, Soap was released from police custody and he’d even had the chance to blow a kiss to his favorite detective on the way out.

He’d accepted his admittedly-deserved tongue lashing from Price about consorting with cops, but eventually Price agreed that you could prove quite useful once you were brought around to the idea of working with them. 

So then it was with Price’s blessing that he’d traced down your number and coerced convinced you to meet him for dinner.

The restaurant is empty, aside from the two of you and the staff, so he’s free to tease you more openly than if this whole thing hadn’t been arranged.

“Nice suit,” he says as you shift uncomfortably across from him. He can tell it’s probably just some cheap suit you wear to court when you’re required to testify and makes a mental note to buy a new one and have it delivered to you. “Bet it’d look even better on my bedroom floor while we-”

“You said,” you interrupt and God, what he’d give to have a sense of you. To see your expression and know whether this was you blowing him off or if he’d managed to actually fluster you. “You have intel worth my time.”

Straight to business, Johnny muses, Price’d appreciate that in a future son in law, wouldn’t he?

“You’ll get your information,” Johnny says, waving a hand dismissively. He thinks of the flash drive tucked away in his pocket and wonders what exactly you might be willing to do to get your hands on it. “After our date.”

“It’s not a-” your protests are interrupted by the arrival of your waiter, a towering blond with a black surgical mask over his mouth and nose. Johnny can see the way your eyes trail the length of the scar that runs down the side of Ghost’s face and something bitter twists in his stomach as you smile at him.

“Whotcha want?” Ghost grunts, as few-worded as always, but there’s something in the way that Ghost looks at you that Johnny recognizes. It’s the way he looks at you too.

Ghost takes your order and then disappears into the back without waiting for Johnny’s order. Typical Ghost.

“So,” he says, if only to get your eyes off of Ghost’s retreating figure and back onto him. “Tell me about yourself?”

It’s the wrong question. The invitation to make this more than a transaction, to make it real, and it has your shoulders tensing and your hand dropping to your hip like you were itching for the familiar weight of your gun. 

Johnny hums, sweet and low and soft, holds up his hands like a surrender even though he knows he’d never give up on something as special as you.

“Doesn’t need tae be somethin’ big,” he tries, needling for any little thing you’re willing to offer up to him. His lips twitch into a grin with an idea, “Matter of fact, I’ll tell you somethin’ for everythin’ you tell me.”

There’s a spark in your eyes at that, at the promise of something to work with and Johnny has a lot of things he’d like you to work with actually. Matter of fact, if you wanted to bend him over the table and- 

“I’ve been a detective for three years,” you say, voice pulling Johnny out of his daydreams. He’d known that - had seen it on the background check they’d pulled on you. He’d been hoping for something more personal, something just for him, but it was a start. 

Johnny forces himself to grin like that was new information, “Betcha couldnae tell by the accent, but I was born an’ raised in Scotland. A little town near Glasgow.”

You nod, eyes focused like you’re filing away the information for later and Johnny can’t help the delighted little kick in his chest that you’re eager to learn about him too, even if you might currently be planning on using it against him. He’s just gotta persuade you that you’re better off at his side.

“Before I decided to join the force,” you start, and Soap leans in, enraptured by the idea of learning something new about you. “I was nearly killed by a drive-by shooter.”

Johnny sits back at that, flummoxed by the idea that he might never have known you. That he’d have never even known what he would’ve been missing.

“My friends call me Soap,” he says, trying to brighten the mood a bit. He can see the confusion as you process what he’d said. 

“Soap?” Shivers creep down his spine at the way you say his callsign. He wonders what it’d be like to have you talking him through a job on comms. How hard it’d be to focus on anything but the sound of your voice. “Why?”

“Cause ‘e’s got a dirty fuckin’ mind,” Ghost rumbles as he reappears, a plate balanced in each hand. He deposits your plate in front of you carefully before dropping Johnny’s in front of him unceremoniously. He looks between Johnny and you for a long moment before dragging over a chair from a neighboring table and sits on it backwards, crossing his massive arms over the back of it, pitch dark eyes fixed firmly on you. “What’s a nice lad like you doin’ with a punk like ‘im?” Ghost asks and Johnny would’ve been offended if he didn’t know that this was just Ghost’s way of playing.

You’re quiet for a few seconds, intense gaze fixed on Johnny. He does his best not to squirm.

“He promised he’d be worth my time,” you say finally and Soap wants to applaud you for it. It’s a perfect answer, really - ambiguous enough of a promise that you could just be two men out on a date if Ghost didn’t already know otherwise.

But Ghost did know. He had to. The only reason he’d be here doing something as menial as serving tables is if Price asked him to. And if Price asked… his eyes cut over to the blinking red light of the surveillance camera in the far corner of the room. His suspicions are confirmed by the barely perceptible nod Ghost gives him when he turns back to the table.

Great, he thinks, Not only are you interested in Ghost, but Price and Gaz are both watching. He feels like the three of you are on some stupid reality show.

Ghost lingers while you and Johnny eat, interjecting every now and then with some terrible joke or to tease Johnny, and Johnny is baffled by how easy this feels. He trusts Ghost with his life, has to in their line of work, but he’s never seen him this open before. Never as at peace as he is right now, sitting next to you and listening intently. Even that ever present tension has started to bleed out of his shoulders the longer he’s near you.

Johnny grins as a wicked thought pops into his mind. He feigns a sigh as he looks down at the emptied plates and pulls out the flash drive with the information he’d promised you. “Well, a deal’s a deal. Your time for my intel,” he says, dangling the flash drive temptingly. He waits until you move to grab it before closing his fingers back around it, “On second thought,” he says, grin spreading at the look on his face, “One last thing and then it’s all yours.”

You don’t seem surprised that he’s changing the deal on you, though you look resolute and he takes that as a good sign.

“I’ll give this to you,” he starts, grinning fiercely, “After you give us a kiss.”

You huff and Johnny’s glad he made sure you weren’t wearing a wire when you arrived. There was something so much more satisfying about knowing that this was all your decision and you weren’t just following orders as you lean in.

“Nuh-uh,” he says when you’re just inches away, amusement covering that twinge of disappointment at not being able to kiss you just yet. “Him first.”

Johnny’s not sure who’s more shocked, you or Ghost. You’re stunned, eyes darting between the two of them like you’re trying to puzzle out the pieces of him saying to kiss ‘us’ not just being one of those odd little colloquialisms. 

Ghost is paler than Soap’s ever seen him, dark eyes wide and wild at being thrust so suddenly into the spotlight and Johnny almost calls it off until he sees the way Ghost’s hands twitch, fingers flexing like it’s all he can do to not grab hold of you and not let go.

“C’mon love,” Johnny croons, trailing his fingertips along your jaw until he can hook them under your chin and turn your head to face Ghost, “Look ‘ow much ‘e wants it.”

You’re still for a split second longer before you take his encouragement and shift toward Ghost, trailing your hands over kilometers-wide shoulders and up until your fingertips brush the edge of his mask.

Johnny can barely hear the quiet “this okay?” that you ask Ghost before Ghost is telling you to close your eyes and ripping off his mask.

He’s on you in seconds, lips on yours like you’re fresh air and he’s asphyxiating and Johnny doesn’t even feel jealous because what a show. He can hear the slick of Ghost’s mouth against yours, can see just how tight he’s clutching at you, and he can see that you’re giving it right back - hands tight around Ghost’s jaw and up into his hair to keep him close to you, to keep him kissing you, and there’s this wounded gasp that leaves you when Ghost eventually pulls away, but he’s already got his mask back in place by the time your eyes open. 

Johnny’s quick to take his place, taking your face in his hands and tugging you in like he’s been aching to do for weeks. He can’t help the needy little sound that escapes him when your mouth is finally on his and he can feel you lean into - feels the sharp sting of your teeth against his lower lip and then the heat of your tongue against it right after. He can’t stop his hands from roaming, clutching at your hair, your shoulders, your ass - it’s like he’s starving for you, like he’ll never get another chance to touch you so he has to memorize every inch of you now but he wants to do so much more than memorize and there’s not enough time. 

Eventually he forces himself to break the kiss, though he knows he’d be perfectly content to spend the rest of time in your arms. 

“As promised,” he says, still catching his breath as he pushes the thumb drive into your hands. 

His heart warms at the second of hesitation before you turn and go and he’s quiet for a moment before he turns back to Ghost, who ditched the surgical mask in favor of his usual skull hood as soon as the door closed behind you.

“Super fuckable, right?” Johnny asks as he stands and starts to clear the table, if only to give himself something to do.

“Oh, absolutely,” Ghost agrees, joining him.

Johnny would be sad that the night had ended where it did, he thinks, if he didn’t know that the information on that drive would have you back in his arms within the next twenty four hours. No, once you learned that your dear chief of police, Shepherd, was compromised, you’d come running right to the 141 for help exposing him, and the bigger the ask, the higher the cost. You’d never be rid of them at this rate.

[itsoutrageouss]

More Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley coming into your room at night, no words needed. Follow up on my last post.

His hands are gripping your waist and your tummy, but not only that, he’s actually dragging you downwards with all his strength, pawing at you so your body scoots down the bed, onto his face, ruffling the sheets. The sounds he makes are unholy and like nothing you’ve heard. He’s always barking orders, grunting in disapproval. Now he’s moaning, nearly whining into the wet mess he’s making between your thighs, spit and slick everywhere.

You can’t even see him, only faint moonlight illuminating his bulging arms and head snug between your thighs. You still haven’t said a single coherent word since he came in, running a hand through his short hair, tugging in a way that makes his whole body shiver. He can’t breathe and he fucking loves it, feeling the stress melt from his muscles with every flutter of your hole around his tongue, cramming it inside you.

Everything is a haze. You had been asleep, and now your lieutenants stern, usually hidden mouth was enveloping as much of your pussy as it could and just slurping. Your thighs quivered around his head, feeling worshipped with the way his hands pulled and pulled on your flesh to get you closer.

He inhaled sharply, groaning in his exhale as his shoulders relaxed. You were his free therapy right now. It wasn’t even for you, because he moved up your body at a crucial second, unconsciously edging you. An annoyed whine left your lips, but he was quick to silence you with two fingers slipping between your lips, calloused fingertips pressing down onto your tongue.

“Good to me” was the first words spoken. His voice was hoarse, quiet and you weren’t sure if he was talking more to himself than to you, his eyes narrowed as they observed the way spit pooled at the corners of your lips as you suckled his fingers in contentment. It sounded almost like a surprised observation as it fell from his spit slicked lips.

You blinked up at him in the darkness, spreading your legs to accommodate his wide hips as he slotted them between your thighs.

Your hand curled around his wrist and gently pulled his wet fingers from your mouth. “Can be even better,” you whispered softly, an innocent expression on your face that he found cruel because how could you look at him like that? He had to squeeze his eyes shut for a second to gather his bearing before he looked at you again.

“Show me” he commanded lowly, lowering his chin, his expression dark and set like the lieutenant he was.

[whateveriwant]

Ghost is the type of dad that, when his kids are driving him up the fucking wall, pinches the bridge of his nose as he thinks to himself “I should’ve pulled out.”

Gaz is the type of dad that, when his kids are giving him attitude, drops them off at Nana’s house because he knows she’ll teach them a thing or two about respect.

Soap is the type of dad that, when his kids are being ungrateful little shits, takes all of the batteries/cables/chargers out of their devices and buries them somewhere in the yard.

Price is the type of dad that, when his kids are getting on his very last nerve, threatens to drop them off outside the nearest animal shelter like a box of unwanted puppies.

[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 😩

[7s3ven]

FILE LOADING… tf 141 x hacker! reader

pt one

You needed a way to lighten your prison sentence and Task Force needed a hacker who actually knew what they were doing.

It was a win-win situation if it wasn’t for the fact that you always work alone. Teamwork? That was an unheard concept to you.

You, with a criminal record so long it could be used as a blanket. You who came from a mafia family so it’s no wonder such a sweet looking doll ended up in prison for stealing valuable files.

Task Force 141, an elite squad who had no idea how to spend their hefty pay checks. The idea of a special woman in their lives was merely a figment of their imagination until Laswell threw your files down in front of him.

You were young, barely twenty-seven. The tattoo ink decorating your body with feminine designs was a harsh contrast to your background. And when you sneered at the camera, it gave a perfect view of your tongue piercing and gems adorning your teeth.

In short, you were the perfect little thing they could spoil.

“Reaper? Why do they call her that?”

“Because it’s the last name you learn before a bullet pierces your fucking skull. Once she steals your information, there’s no getting it back. And when she shares it with your enemies, you’re a deadman walking.”