#the boys are actually just the rest of the 141

[shadow4-1]

(Based off this post and this movie.) I'm just imagining going out with the girls to the pub. There's a few new people you don't recognize, but you don't pay them any mind. Even when a handsome, older man approaches you do you brush him off. You're not there to find some dick - it's your homegirl's birthday! Come to find out her dad rented her a party yacht.

The party is bumping and you've had far too much to drink. You accidentally stumble into one of the guardrails but it's too short. You fall overboard, knocking the back of your head on the fiberglass boat hull on the way down.

You wake up in the hospital dazed and confused. You can't recall much of anything but you know something bad happened to you. There's TV crews and newspeople ready to ask you questions youre unable to answer. You're far from home, you had no phone or ID, and your "friends" are blackout drunk on a yacht headed for Cape Cod.

You're upset and scared. You want to go home but you can't even recall where that is. You lay despondent and alone in your hospital bed hoping someone will come to claim you. Soon enough, someone does.

He's tall, handsome, and older than you'd expected. Is he a friend of your dad's? Certainly he has to know you. He regards you with glint of heat in his eye.

"Ah, there you are, Love." He sighs in relief. The nurses and doctors who led him into the room intently observe the scene. "Thought I'd never see you again."

You're confused, but he seems to understand. He kneels beside your bed, places your hand in his. He doesn't seem offended when you try to pull away from him. You're certain he's a stranger. He has to be.

"Love, it's me. It's alright, I've got you now." He hums, reaching into his back pocket. He pulls out a silver ring and slips it on your ring finger. It fits perfectly and has a man's name etched into it.

"John?" You question, looking at the ring. He just smiles at you with a strange type of relief.

The nurses and doctors chatter in agreement, tapping at their Ipads and leaving the room. You want to call out to them but John plants kisses to the back of your hand. His mustache tickles.

"Oh, Love, you've no idea how much I've missed you. The boys too." He hums. "'S time to go home."

The boys?

You have children with this man?

[partiallysame]

I'm sorry if this is a weird request, I love your writing a lot and you bring me great comfort, and I've been binging ur stories after my ex cracked me in the face (enjoy jail Ryan)

how do you think poly 141 with a civilian s/o who comes home from work, not expecting them to be home from deployment, with a bloodied lip and black eye, a tear across her forehead that slowly oozes blood. Maybe her own knuckles are bruised and split from where she had fought off the two men who jumped her. Her pants were torn at the knees from where she grappled on the ground. Johnny's jean jacket he let her borrow was nowhere in sight left in dust as she ran for her life.

I love your writing again, I hope ur safe and please eat well and rest ❤️❤️ don't let anyone get away with putting their hands on you.

First and foremost fuck you Ryan rot in jail and hell bitch

The adrenaline had finally started to wear off as you pulled your car into the driveway, only to start to panic again when you realized your husband and your boys were home early. Like two weeks early. You sat in your car for a few moments trying to wipe the blood from your face, your hands, your knees, trying anything to look like what just happened didn’t actually happen. But the second your car pulled in they all made their way out, too excited to see their Missus to wait for her to come inside. Johnny was the first to reach the car, always so eager to see you. You sat still in your car. He tried to open the door but it was still locked. Crouching down to motion for you to open the door, maybe you were on the phone or something and that's why you hadn’t gotten out yet. But as he lowered himself to see you, only to be met with a nightmare sight. 

“Sweet’art open the door.” Voice serious in a way you had never heard before. His hand reached behind him to wave the rest of the men over, not wanting to yell for them and scare you more than you already seemed. You shook your head no. They weren’t supposed to see you like this. You were fine. You made it home, you were safe now, you were gonna fix up all your wounds and be healed before they got home. But here they were trying to coax you out of the car as tears streamed down your face. Fingers slowly pressing the unlock button, both the drivers and passenger side doors were swung open. Johnny reached over you to unbuckle your seatbelt and scooping you up out of the car. 

“Bring me my wife.” It was an order that MacTavish was not going to follow until you were pulled from his arms. “M’sorry’s” poured from your mouth between sobs as you clung to your husband and were brought into the house and set so gently on the kitchen counter, allowing the four men to get a full view of your beaten body. You sat, body shaking slightly from the adrenaline and pain that was starting to set in as they stared. Stared and the dark purple forming around your eye. Staring at the gash across your cheek and your split lip. Drops of blood on your torn shirt, jeans shredded at the knees, wet bloodied fabric stuck to the scrapes on your knees. They were all looking at you so differently. You thought your husband was going to cry, Johnny too. Kyle looked so broken. You had been working so hard for Simon to soften to open up to you and he was, but the look on his face scared you. 

Working in perfect unison the men started to undress you, removing your bloodied clothes. A first aid kit was set next to you as they each took a portion of you to care for. Apologizing when you’d wince at the pain of being cleaned up. Johnny was holding an ice pack up to your eye as Kyle took off his shirt for you to wear. None of them were willing to leave your side long enough to just grab new clothes from down the hall. Another “I’m sorry” fell from you and your husband felt like he was going to snap.

“My Love, please stop apologizing. It’s not yer fault honey. Can ya tell us what happened?” You nodded and recounted how two men had cornered you after work, wanting your purse. How they thought you weren’t handing it over fast enough. 

“But I’m a captain’s wife you know? Not just gonna take it lying down now am I? You should see the other guys.” You tried to joke and motioned to your split knuckles that Simon had so carefully wrapped up for you. 

“Where?” Simon’s voice came out harsh and the men snapped their heads toward him, a warning to calm down. (They’d find who did it later but rn the focus is on their Missus)

“I’m sorry Johnny.” You turned toward the large scot still holding the ice pack. He lowered it because he wanted you to see his face when he told you there was no reason to apologize.

“But I was wearing your jacket. You know the jean one you left for me. The one that smells like you. The one you look so handsome in. It came off and I left it there.” Your breathing picked up again, tears threatening to spill at losing his favorite jacket. You barely finished your confession when he was pulling you into his chest, strong arms feeling so warm and gentle around you.

“Don’ care about a fuckin’ jacket. You came home lovie. That's what I care about.”

[paint-the-walls-white]

I don't share

Pairing: Possessive!König x Fem!Reader

Summary: König doesn't like sharing you, which is exactly why you had been married for almost ten years and none of his comrades knew about you. At least, not until he drunkenly spilled the beans and you showed up the next day with a box of cookies..

Warnings: Bondage! MDom! Doggy! CreamPie! OverStim! Oral(M2F)!

König was very secretive of his personal life on account of his social anxiety. He had been transfered to Task Force 141 for a while and had made pretty good friends with them, but of course, one night TF141 was making fun of him while drinking and in his own drunken haze he blurted out something that didn't go unnoticed,

"If you keep making fun of my wife, I'll kill you. Oh wait, that sounded like a joke; I will actually kill you."

He was very protective and possessive of you, which you didn't mind in the slightest. But he had accidently revealed that he had a wife, and everyone kept pestering him about it.

"I bet she's a strong lass aye? Big as an Ox! Only person that makes sense fer a mountain" Soaps slurred comment made him scoff as König kept sipping on his vodka, aggravated and embarrassed.

"What she do fer a living König? She a construction worker or somethin?"

König looked at Gaz with bewilderment. "A construction worker? where the hell did you get that? Gott.. Nein she's a baker."

Even Ghost was muttering how she probably had massive arms to carry 8 trays at once of protein bars. König kept to himself the rest of the night before returning home to you.

"Hi mein Liebe, I'm home." He pressed a kiss on your forehead, stripping off his tactical vest and mask then kicking off his boots.

"How was your night with the boys? Was it fun?"

He lied down on top of you, burying his face in your chest, crushing your small frame as he huffed annoyed.

"Kept making fun of you...Arschlöcher.. kept sayin you were a big burly lady.."

You snorted, running your fingers through his hair. You told him to ignore them because they didn't know what they were talking about, they were just trying to get a rise out of him.

He sighed, content in your arms as he fell into a drunken sleep on top of you, the crushing pressure more than welcomed.

The next day you decided to surprise König on base with a little gift. The guards of course did not believe that you were his wife so you pulled out the marriage certificate and your spouse ID card to shove it in their face. They were gob smacked as they discovered he had a wife and informed you he was currently at the cantina.

You were directed where to go, a box of chocolate chip cookies in had as you made your way there. Once inside, the place gradually got quiet as you made your way over to your husband giddy as his back faced you.

König was currently berating his friends about making fun of you again until he noticed that they weren't even paying attention, they were looking behind him.

He turned, and there you were, barely meeting his eye level while he was sitting, a box of cookies in hand adorned in a pleated pink skirt and a white tank top with a knit sweater and chunky white heels.

"Surprise! I brought you cookies Liebe!"

The horror that flooded his gaze was unmatched. He quickly wrapped around you to hide you from onlookers, glaring in their direction.

"Mein Liebe, what are you doing here? You are for my eyes only!"

You pouted into him, pushing off of his chest, "I wanted to surprise you," His eyes softened and he huffed, turning to glare at the men at the table who were still gaping in your direction.

"Thas your wife König? The lass is like half your size!" Soap stared on in horror, you could tell what he was thinking about so you hid in his shirt.

"Let's go." He stood, throwing you over his shoulder and flattening your skirt over your ass. Your face was red as you tried to keep the box from being crushed, and you just stared down, completely embarrassed.

"König put me down!" You kicked your legs, trying to fight him off, but he just smacked your ass and carried you out of the cantina, everyone completely silent.

"What the hell just happened." Ghost shrugged at Soaps comment and just kept eating silently.

König had carried you all the way to his quarters, gently placing you on the bed. The blood had rushed to your head so you were bright red.

He knelt, taking off your shoes and rubbing at your sore feet.

"Why did you think this was a good idea mein Liebe? Hmm?"

"I just wanted to bring you a treat.. I thought you'd like seeing me here.."

König sighed, kissing your shin before he looked up at you with his piercing gaze.

"Lamm, I can't keep my eyes off of you, which means neither can other men. I'm the only one that gets to look at you. Du bist mein."

You huffed and averted your gaze, cheeks a bright pink as you handed him a cookie.

"Still, you didn't have to make a scene.." He simply chuckled and stood.

"I know you like it when I toss you around Liebling, you cant fool me. I know you loved the attention."

He caged you in on the bed, prompting you to lie on your back, legs hanging off the edge. You pulled up his mask to reveal his mouth and pressed your lips to his. König groaned softly, slanting his lips against yours, intensifying the kiss.

You moaned and panted into his mouth, whimpering at the flavor of his tongue against yours. He ran a hand up your thigh, squeezing your soft skin in his calloused hands.

He pulled away to attack your neck, sucking and biting at the exposed skin

"K-König.. what if someone sees-!"

"Don't care.. they need to know who you belong to... Du bist mein..."

You squirmed underneath him, far too excited at the attention he was giving you, especially when he slipped a finger under your panties and rubbed at your sloppy folds.

"Scheiße.. du bist so wet for me Liebe.."

You watched with dazed eyes as he slid off the bed onto his knees, dragging you to the edge of the bed where he ripped off your underwear and started sucking on your clit. You immediately grabbed at the fabric of his mask and threw your head back, arching into his mouth as you moaned loudly.

König quickly sunk two fingers into your wet cunt, rubbing at your sensitive walls as he fucked you with his hand. You met his gaze and whimpered as he continued eating you out like a starved man. He moaned against your pussy as you came on his hands and face, plenty of slick being absorbed into the fabric hiding his face.

A soft whine escaped as he cleaned up your mess with his tongue, savoring every drop of your arousal. He stood, sucking his fingers clean as he stared down at your spent form lying limply on the bed.

"Braves Mädchen.."

You lied there, staring at him as you tried to grasp a single thought after that mind blowing orgasm, but you just blushed when you noticed his dick straining against his pants.

"What is it Liebling? You want more? Dirty little slag..."

Gnawing on your lip, you nodded, completely drunk on his attention. The sound of his belt being unbuckled and shucked from his pants immediately made you throb for him.

He bound your wrists with the belt, flipping you on your stomach so you were bent over the side of the bed. You had to stand on your toes, causing your legs to shake at the stretch.

"König.. Please.." He chuckled at your desperate plea as he forced your knees back onto the bed so your hips met his. He rubbed the head of his cock along your slick folds, teasing you by swiping over your clit.

You whined, burying your face further into the mattress as the friction of the blanket rubbed against your knees. König sunk the head of his cock into you, eliciting a pitiful moan as he stretched you wide, this fat cock stuffing into you inch by inch.

He groaned softly at the friction, praising you for taking him so well, "It's like you were made for me Mein Liebe, wrapped so fucking tight around me... Scheiße.."

He slowly pulled out then sunk back in, reveling in the feel of your gummy cunt wrapping tight around his meaty shaft. You whined, pressing against him to meet each thrust, tears staining the mattress as you took his cock.

König nearly growled every time you sucked him back in, head thrown back as he pulled your hips against his.

"I don't share Liebling.. You're all mine.. Only I get to see you.. get to fuck you... Scheiße.."

He moaned as you tightly squeezed around him, creaming on his dick. He watched as a ring of white collected at the base of his cock, stuffing it all the way in before spurting thick ropes of cum into your cunt.

He pulled out slowly, his cum leaking down your thighs as you whimpered at the empty feeling. He gently undid the belt around your wrists and pressed a kiss to your forehead through his mask.

"Stay there Liebling, Ill clean you up.."

König stepped away to get a washcloth soaked in warm water, gently cleaning off the arousal that had covered your legs and folds, placing a gently kiss on your ass and putting your underwear, socks and shoes back on for you.

"Now let's get you out of here, I don't need anyone else looking at my beauty.." you just nodded slowly and tried to rise on shaky legs. Clinging to his arm, he walked you back to your car, many onlookers staring in shock and utter horror.

He raised his mask above his nose and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before letting you leave. When you started the car, window still rolled down, he listened intently to the radio, realizing you were listening to his playlist.

Rein, Raus

Rein, Raus

Rein, Raus..

You flushed, turning down the radio and meekly met his gaze, "I like that song.. Reminds me of you.."

His piercing blue eyes told you all you needed to know. When he got home, you wouldn't be going anywhere for a while.

Because he was going to make sure you couldn't walk.

[writersdrug]

The rest of the 141’s thoughts when they see Bartender Ghost and Waitress reader together

Catastrophic. The both of you hadn't even tried to soft launch it - you were both just horrible at being subtle.

Of course, Price had expected it to be around the bend - he knew if Simon had waited any longer to share his feelings, the poor man might have burnt the pub down. So, he's relieved when he sees the lingering glances, the gentle touches on the small of your back when Simon speaks to you, the way you aren't afraid to lean into him to hear him above the din of the nighttime rush-

It was about time, Price thinks - and he's relieved. He's sick and tired of Simon getting distracted during his shift every time you come prancing around; sure, it might still happen, but at least he doesn't see the bartender staring daggers at everyone you talk too- no, actually- shit. He's still doing that, too. And he's still getting hard behind the bar. Ah, whatever. At least he's not the victim of Simon's jealousy anymore.

Gaz picks up on it on his second or third day at the pub (Price convinced him to start working with them, though he promised to share him with the Brewmaster when he really needed him). He wasn't particularly observing the two of you much, more occupied with doing his job and talking with Soap in the kitchen...

But he happened to witness a moment between you and Simon behind the bar. You were refilling a table's ginger ale, your expression blank. It was only four thirty, the pub only being open for thirty minutes, and there were no patrons at the bar as of yet. Gaz was restocking the server station when he heard a commotion behind the bar. He turned to find Simon crowding you into the corner, standing like a brick wall at your back.

"Simon- move!"

"Got somewhere t' be?"

"Yes, believe it or not. Are you gonna move?"

"Mm... tough."

Not a moment later, you pointed the nozzle at his chest and sprayed him with tonic water - he cursed and jumped back, and quickly made your escape from behind the bar.

It might not be a neon sign, but it was obvious. Simon isn't a man who lets people get this close to him, unless they mean something. Something more than just a coworker, for sure.

As for Soap... well, Johnny boy finds out about you two on Halloween night - via the unintentional hard launch.

[gloomwitchwrites]

They have too much fun being a scary dad when their daughter brings her boyfriend home to meet the parents

In general, I hate when men do this, especially if they mean it. That patriarchal stuff really irritates me. But for this, it's a prank. They're doing it to embarrass their child (and I'm in support of that).

Due to the nature of the ask, I'm slightly aging up Price and Ghost, and significantly aging up Soap and Gaz. They're all fathers and have been for a while. Their age reflects this.

Presented in four double drabbles.

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

Dad!Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: dad!141, pranks, shenanigans, protective behavior, terrorizing the daughter’s boyfriend

Word Count: 800

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

John Price

"Don’t answer the door, John."

He winks and reaches behind him, turning the knob, and swinging it wide, startling the young man on the other side.

"I'm here to pick up—"

"Come in," commands John. The authority in his voice makes you wince. "Have a seat."

The boy visibly swallows, looking to you for help.

"I'll grab her.���

John reaches for you. Arm tucked behind your back, John drags you against him, lips pressed to your ear. "Let me terrorize the lad for a minute."

"John."

"Just a minute."

John releases you and turns to the teenage boy on the sofa. You ascend the stairs, heading for your daughter’s room. You count to twenty before pushing open the door.

"He's here."

She squeals and presents herself. "Look good?"

"Gorgeous."

She beams as she rushes past you and down the stairs. You make it to the top in time to hear her chastise her father.

"We're only talking," John says casually.

You descend just as your daughter and her distraught-looking boyfriend leave.

"What did you say to him?" you ask with arms crossed.

"We just chatted,” shrugs John.

"John," you scold, but he ignores you, heading into the kitchen. "John!" 

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Who was—”

You come to a halt in the living room archway. Kyle sits casually in the lounge chair, a soft smirk on his face. Across from him is a young teenage boy no older than sixteen. The boy is clutching a lovely bouquet of flowers.

This is your daughter’s date. And Kyle has him cornered like a kicked animal.

You turn your admonishing gaze on Kyle, eyebrows rising toward your hairline as you throw a silent accusation.

Kyle only shrugs, and then winks like it’s a game.

You introduce yourself and the boy relaxes a bit.

Standing, Kyle saunters over to you, his hand resting low on your back. “And what time did we discuss about bringing her home?”

“Nine, sir. On the dot.”

“Good lad.”

“Did you let our daughter know her date is here?” you ask, keeping your tone even.

“I will now,” replies Kyle cooly, never taking his eyes off the date.

He starts to walk away but your grab hold of him, sliding back to his side, lowering your voice.

“Were you polite?”

“Always, love.”

“Kyle,” you scold, knowing he wasn’t.

His lips twitch as he hides a smile. “I was a little mean.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

"Don't."

"I won't."

"You promised."

"Said I wouldn't."

His reassurance isn't promising, and that mischievous grin on his face isn't helping things.

"John MacTavish," you whisper-scold as the doorbell rings and he rushes to the door.

You follow him, but you’re seconds too late. John opens the door and grabs the front of the boy’s shirt, yanking him inside before the young man can get a word in.

“Oh my god,” you mutter.

Already, you hear your daughter’s hurried steps. She’s going to lose it if she sees her father picking on her boyfriend.

The boy’s face blanches, all the color leeching away as he gazes on this muscled monstrosity before him. Johnny is puffing himself up, appearing much large than he actually is.

“Why are you loitering on my doorstep?”

“Excuse me, sir. I—”

“You what?”

“John,” you warn.

“I’m picking up your daughter, sir.”

“Oh, aye. Why is that?”

The boy swallows, his gaze darting to you for help. Your mouth opens, ready to end this when you hear your daughter’s sharp inhalation.

“Dad!”

Johnny immediately softens, draping his arm over the boy’s shoulders like he wasn’t doing anything wrong.

“Boyfriend’s here, love. Be home by ten.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon said he wouldn't be home. You knew that was a lie the moment your daughter mentioned bringing her boyfriend home.

He didn’t change—or make any attempt to appear less…intimidating. Simon wears all black tactical gear with his signature balaclava.

And is that? —No. Blood?

You stare Simon down, eyes widening in silent plea. Your daughter looks on, hands fidgeting nervously.

Don't, you mouth.

While Simon appears intimidating, he’s smiling under that balaclava. The boyfriend appears scrawny compared to Simon.

"Mr. Riley," he says, holding out his hand.

Simon doesn't even glance at the offered palm. He only stares the boy down.

"Where are the two of you off to?"

"The movies."

"What movie?"

He answers.

Simon grunts. "What time will you be home?"

"Around ten." Simon's gaze narrows and the boy swallows. "Ten sharp, sir."

"Good."

Simon clasps the boy's shoulder and herds the two of them toward the door.

"Have fun," you say as brightly as you can.

As they walk to the car, you pinch Simon's side. "Uncalled for."

Simon elbows you. "We have a few hours to ourselves."

"Simon," you warn, but he’s shutting the door, hips swaying slightly.

"I've got some energy to burn." 

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@ash-tarte @enarien @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[roosterr]

if ur requests are open, could we have like 141 falling asleep on the reader??? like different scenarios for each of them like price falls asleep accidentally and so does ghost while gaz and soap are like cuddling or laying on the reader :) i love ur writing so much <333

the 141 falls asleep on you

wc: 2.1k

hello!!! been struggling to love my writing for like the last month so i really hope you enjoy, and i'm sorry in advance lol its mostly fluffy but i just couldn't help myself with a lil bit of angst :)

price

✹ when you hear the front door open in the middle of the night – or, technically, early morning – the first thought your sleep-addled mind comes up with is that you're being robbed.

✹ with your heart in your throat, you sit up in bed and stare wide-eyed at the bedroom door, but your fear is short lived when a dull thud meets your ears, followed by a familiar curse that has you breathing a sigh of relief.

✹ your husband, coming home at last from a night of drinking with the other members of the taskforce, presumably stubbing his toe on the sofa that hasn't moved an inch since you put it there all those years ago.

✹ with a deep yawn, you get back under the covers and let your eyes fall shut again, the knowledge that it was john downstairs and not a burglar putting your racing heart to rest.

✹ you don't react when he clumsily slips through the door, fighting the laugh that threatens to give you away when you hear him swear under his breath after bumping into yet another piece of furniture.

✹ the cold air sends goosebumps rippling across your skin when he lifts the covers to clamber in beside you, but the chill is quickly chased away by his hands bringing you into his chest and his enveloping warmth.

✹ "and what time do you call this?" you tease in a whisper, opening your eyes to see his guilty ones looking back at you. the slight flush in his cheeks and his half-lidded gaze gives him a boyish charm that you can't even pretend to be mad at.

✹ "sorry darlin', didn't mean to wake you..." he murmurs in return, a sheepish smile pulling at one side of his lips.

✹ "well, i'm glad you had a good time," you punctuate your reply by placing a light kiss on the bridge of his nose, which prompts his smile to grow wider as he hugs your body to his own.

✹ "i'm havin' a better time now, love." he ghosts his lips over yours as he whispers, earning another tiny chuckle from you, his fingers tracing patterns into the skin of your back under your shirt.

✹ you can smell the whisky on his breath as he leans even further into you, and taste it when he closes the distance to devour your lips in a passionate, if slightly messy, kiss.

✹ he sighs into your mouth, his lips falling from yours when he rolls you onto your back to lay his head on your chest, and like a switch, he's dead asleep.

✹ "john?" you whisper, in a sort of disbelief that he was actually asleep just like that, but he doesn't even flinch when you gently poke his cheek. "oh my god…"

✹ once the morning rolls around, you both share a laugh about his drunken state from the night before, and he makes you promise not to tell the boys he passed out in the middle of kissing you.

✹ you just laugh and file it away for future blackmail.

gaz

✹ the two of you were watching a movie late one night, the first time you've had time to yourselves in months thanks to the never-ending workload you both seem to be under.

✹ the dim mood lighting of your flat combined with the comforting feeling of finally being alone with kyle is nearly enough to send you to sleep already, but your want to spent time with him keeps you awake.

✹ kyle watches you stifle a yawn as he presses play on the movie, and tugs you to lean against him with an arm around your shoulders and a teasing grin. "promise you won't fall asleep this time?"

✹ you look up to him from where your head rests against his collar and huff, a smile of your own playing on your lips as you nudge him lightly with your elbow. "maybe i should be the one asking that."

✹ the bags under his eyes leave no question about how tired he really is, but he was the one that insisted the two of you spend time together tonight, despite the exhaustion you knew he was hiding.

✹ "and leave you all by yourself?" he chuckles, "never, love."

✹ a comfortable quiet settles over you while you watch the movie together; kyle's choice, something action-y you've never seen before, but you know he's seen it a million times. he occasionally adds commentary to make you laugh which he, naturally, manages to do every time.

✹ as the movie plays, you gradually migrate to laying on the sofa on your back with kyle between your legs and his head on your sternum. you absentmindedly run your nails over his scalp, gently massaging his head while he hugs your waist.

✹ it's about two-thirds of the way through the movie that you realise kyle hasn't said anything in a while. you pause your ministrations, smoothing over his curls as you turn your gaze from the screen to where he lays on top of you.

✹ a soft smile lights up your face when your eyes land on his blissfully relaxed features, sound asleep and breathing in time with the steady rise and fall of your chest.

✹ you continue to watch the movie in silence, occasionally petting kyle's hair when he grumbles in his sleep. he deserves the rest, you muse, and something about how peaceful he looks means you can't even entertain the idea of disturbing him. and you would definitely tease him that he fell asleep like he said he wouldn't.

✹ even once the movie has finished, and your back has started to ache from the position against the armrest, you still don't dare wake him. tomorrow was an off day for both of you, so there was no need to go anywhere – as if you would ever want to, intertwined with your boyfriend and surrounded by his warmth.

✹ you close your eyes, give him one last squeeze, and whisper into the silence, "sweet dreams, kyle."

soap

✹ it wasn't supposed to happen like this.

✹ everything was supposed to go smoothly, you'd get what you came for, and you'd be home in time for dinner.

✹ but it hadn't happened like that  of course it didn't. you were on your way out, with johnny by your side, when a sudden noise from behind you caught your attention.

✹ you spin around to see a dishevelled soldier aiming their gun at you, but you noticed just a second too late. you can do little more than watch as they pull the trigger, a sick sense of horror travelling up your spine as time seems to slow down.

✹ there's a split second where you brace to feel the bullet lodge somewhere in your body, but that impact never comes.

✹ with a speed you didn't know he possessed, johnny tackles you to the ground and out of the path of the bullet, landing on top of you and pushing the air from your lungs.

✹ you lay winded underneath him, the sound of him returning fire vaguely reaching your ears but it takes a second for your mind to catch up.

✹ it’s quiet by the time you come back to your senses, johnny already pulling you to stand with a strained grunt.

✹ "johnny?" you frown, taking note of how he favours one side when he urges you to start walking again, "you okay?"

✹ "fine, darlin’, let’s just–" he winces, stumbling ever so slightly and trying to play it off by pushing you in front of him, "let’s just get home, aye?"

✹ your frown deepens. you turn around and stop him with your hands on his shoulders, and it's then that you notice how laboured his breathing has become.

✹ "you're not fine, soap!" your heart sinks as you watch the patches of blood on his leg grow steadily darker, "why didn't you tell me you were hit?"

✹ he doesn't flinch at the anger in your voice, or when you haul his arm over your shoulder and resume dragging him the rest of the way to the helo. he mumbles incoherent that sounds like an apology, but your only focus is getting him to safety and stopping the bleeding.

✹ the others are already waiting for you as the exfil site comes into view, and the moment they spot you shouldering johnny's weight they spring into action to help you.

✹ johnny is dragged up the ramp and made to lay on the floor as gaz and ghost make short work of packing the bullet wound in his thigh with gauze.

✹ you lift his shoulders and head to rest in your lap, grimacing at the pained groans he lets out when ghost puts his weight on the wound.

✹ "why didn't you tell me?" you utter, tilting his head back with your hands on his cheeks and meeting his distant gaze with your brows knitted together in concern.

✹ he musters a weak smile and lets his eyes flutter shut, the muscles in his face visibly relax. "i’m fine… ‘slong as yer okay, bonnie…"

ghost

✹ sometimes you wondered if ghost ever slept.

✹ he would always volunteer himself for the first watch, and he was up before you without fail every morning. on base he always seemed to be in the gym before everyone, and in his office after everyone else has left. he was frustratingly elusive.

✹ it worried you, that perhaps he had trouble sleeping. it made sense, however saddening, that someone like him wouldn't sleep well, but it was even worse that he brushed off your concern for him with practised ease.

✹ he made sure to take care of others, but wouldn't let you try and do the same for him. perhaps he thought you were joking, or that you were only being courteous, but your mind always goes back to one thing; the theory that, for some people, it's only possible for them to fall asleep when they feel safe.

✹ you wanted to be that for him, like he was for you.

✹ you do your best to forget about your rejected concerns for him, and the thought all but slips your mind until a mission two months later.

✹ it was long, drawn-out, and gruelling, and all you wanted to do was get home and have a shower hot enough to melt your skin. it had been almost a week since you've had a moment to catch your breath, and you were more than thankful to be on the way home.

✹ even if that meant being squashed into the back of an suv with soap passed out on your left and ghost on your right. gaz called shotgun and wouldn't give it up for anything, so here you were, shoulder to shoulder with the lieutenant you may or may not harbour feelings for.

✹ the five of you have been on the road for a couple of hours now. the conversation has died down by now and and the quiet hum of the radio was the only sound, besides soap's intermittent snores.

✹ you're on the verge of passing out yourself when a weight drops onto your shoulder, and you have to fight yourself not to jump with the start it gives you.

✹ your tired eyes look to the source and to your utter surprise, they find the dark fabric of ghost's balaclava resting against you, and when you tilt your head you can see the blond of his eyelashes against his cheeks.

✹ the sight brings a smile to your face. as subtle as possible, you shift as much as the limited space of the backseat will allow so his neck isn't bent at such an awkward angle.

✹ he fell asleep on you. perhaps it was just because of the exhaustion this mission left him with, but you like to think back on your theory from weeks ago as you admire the restful expression he wears.

✹ your stop fighting your own exhaustion and let your eyes fall shut, and with your last thread of consciousness you file this memory away for later, and hope that it really does mean that he feels safe with you.

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Hello! Could you write about Task Force 141 with a reader who is blind but navigates through echolocation? Clicking her tongue, producing sound.

Imagine a blind read who uses echolocation Task Force 141 due to traumatic injury.

Masterlist

Y’know how Elsa said ‘The cold never bothered me anyways.’

Well, the same could be said for Reader! but for the dark.

Imagine a Reader! who uses echolocation to navigate.

Reader! Has saved many a mission with her talent. Her unique skill has earned her the nickname of Death Angel (those alien creatures from A Quiet Place)

Reader! gets called Angel by Soap and Kyle quite often. When off duty she wears a white blindfold, signifying impartial justice. (just like the ones angels are depicted to wear). However on missions? Reader! holds one over Ghost for intimidating.

The first time they met Reader! dressed for combat even Ghost was unnerved. Reader! had arrived decked out in black, wearing a dirty grey mask (it's clean) over her eyes. There was a red substance that looked to be seeping through what would be her eye sockets.

‘Uh, you must be Sargent L/N.’ Captain Price said in a slightly unnerved tone that only Ghost picked up on.

‘Yes sir that's me. I’ve been lent to the 141 for this specific mission. I hear you need someone to navigate the catacombs.’ Reader! nodded, pointing a thumb at herself. ‘I’ll get you guys through to the other side to your extraction point. Just stay quiet and don’t shoot anything unless I say so and we’ll be fine.’

‘Sorry te ask this lass but, can ye see through yer blindfold?’ A thick Scottish accent filtered into her ears.

‘Ah, I can’t see actually, I’m blind.’ She grinned, lifting up her blindfold a little so they could see just a hint of the of the wound area.

A collective slight gasp rang through the group, while the largest man stayed quiet.

‘It’s not a big deal, one of the missions we went on, my task force was captured and long story short, it’s easier for me to concentrate when I can't see.’ She shrugged, giving them a sly smile.

‘What do you mean?’ The lowest voice grumbled, a welcomed sound to Reader!’s ears.

‘Ah, you’ll see.’ She smirked, tapping under her left eye.

‘Come on, let’s get going. It’s going to be sundown soon and I don’t wanna catch the crazies.’ She turned, turning towards the steps that led down to a city of bones.

The tunnels were close, the smell was of old pages, dusty and damp. The 141 swept their lights across the piles of bones with tensed bodies. They were nearing the shut off point.

Reader! raised a hand, causing the group to come to a halt.

‘My time to shine boys.’ She whispered, ‘Lights out.’

The men reluctantly flicked off their headlights and switched to night vision. Reader! hummed, and let out a breath.

‘Don’t speak unless it’s important.’ Reader! mumbled, before she turned back towards the now bleak, dark tunnel.

The sound of boots quietly scuffing the ground, echoed the tunnels, rang in the men's ears,

Click clickclick click click

The men froze, swinging around with their guns raised.

‘That’s just me guys.’ The comforting voice of Reader! called out from the front.

Price and the rest turned around, slightly embarrassed.

‘Right. Carry on.’ Price muttered, gesturing for the men to follow her.

Reader! continued clicking, navigating the tunnels and avoiding people whenever possible until Reader! suddenly holds up a closed fist.

In front of them to the left side was a room, dimly lit.

Whispering could be heard, muttering and a very soft chanting of at least 5 people.

Reader! clicks one more time before showing 5 fingers, then gestured for them to stay low and sneak past.

The group silently slipped by the open entryway, ignoring the people inside dressed in red robes. Their orders were to get to the other side and if they could help it, not shoot anyone.

After successfully slipping past the unknown group, Reader! continued her clicking, sweeping her gun, across the stones. The group squeezed through holes, ducked below low ceilings and trudged forward. They didn’t encounter any more people. Reader had successfully led them out of the catacombs and back to the surface undetected.

The entire group breathed out a sigh of relief when they emerged from a sewer grate, the moon was high.

‘Not bad guys! Just in time too! Lets get the hell out of here. I need a shower.’ Reader! allows Captian Price to take the lead to the extraction point, following behind the rest of the group.

‘Mate, she’s like a bat, that was so cool. A velvety voice complimented her quietly.

‘Ye blasted fool, she can hear ye. That’s her whole thing.’ The Scottish voice groaned, a loud smack resounded.

‘I like your blindfold.’ The lowest voice said, seemingly amused.

‘Thanks LT I like yours too.’ Reader! smiles, giving the voice a thumbs up.

‘Hm, very good.’ The man rumbled in mirth.

[sleepyeepyp3rson]

wwe/pro fighters!141 x announcer!reader

John Price, former two-time Wold Champion, the Bear of the Ring, back from retirement. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, a newcomer, moving on up to the big leagues. The Golden Boy of London. John "Soap" MacTavish, the Street Fight Champion, the half of the most menacing duo in WWE history. And "Ghost," the Shadow of the Ring, who won last seasons duo Championship with Soap.

an: i JUST got into wwe, so sorry for any inaccuracies! correct me, it's always fun to learn more :3 also also! my first full fic 😭😭 got SO SCARED posting this so sorry if it low key sucks, if it doesn't, i have plans for a second one + shoutout to my awsome beta reader (my best friend)

(masterlist, 2)

Recently, one of the announcers retired after a long career, and WWE scrambled to find a suitable replacement that wouldn't cause an uproar in the dedicated fanbase.

They chose you. A person with an impressive resume and a quick wit, willing to be accidentally trampled if need be. And the best part for the company? The fans love you, some even making compilations and edits of you. Of the few moments you get shown on camera at least. (The wrestlers are the main event.) And the wrestlers seem to like you just fine. Better than the refs and each other, at least. The 141 seem to like you the most, though.

Price, just coming back from a short retirement, was the first match you narrated. You loved him growing up, the finishing moves, the walkout song (Thunderstruck AC/DC,) everything. He put the attitude in the Attitude Era, the main event, the headliner. Then he retired.

You cried during his final show. Being one of the live announcers for his comeback now is huge for you.

He walked out on the ring, fought like hell, and at one point he slung his opponent over the net and the guy crashed into your table. Admittedly it was a little frightening, but seeing John Price drag the guy kicking and screaming back into the ring by his hair was enough of a reward. And the gruff "Sorry, dove," he said to you certainly didn't make anything worse.

But you thought that was it for the nicknames.

Until Gaz. Every match he has, whenever he has the mic, he's referencing you at least once, with an added "Love" or "Sunshine" to it. That alone gave you a thousand more followers on your Instagram, but the post he made on Twitter? At least ten thousand. And it wasn't anything major, but being the "Golden Boy" comes with certain privileges, and he uses them well. You start researching him after that, and he hasn't done that for any other announcer.

Soap and Ghost’s first team-up of the season has them against the men they stole the Duo Champions titles from. Graves and Makarov. Match made in Hell, the two of them. They can't stand each other, but they hate the 141 boys enough to justify a team-up.

During the match, Soap broke Makarov's arm. Maybe he just forgot it wasn't his usual rules, or maybe it was the reference he made to you during the pre-fight trash-talk session. Either way, Ghost had his back, as always, and covered for him by throwing the rest of the match as the script told them to. Either way, they were disqualified.

And you? You're having the time of your life. The fights are right up by your face, the adrenaline rush right there, and this time you actually get to chase it.

Maybe you're egging them on a bit. Grinning like mad during Price's first match, responding to Gaz's tweet and comments with nothing short of glowing praise, giving colorful commentary during Soap and Ghost’s fight. But who can blame you, really? For liking your job, for entertaining people.

Maybe that's why this match, the grand match between Task Force 141 and The Shadows is packed. You entertain people just as much as the wrestlers.

The lights flash, Thunderstruck plays, the 141 boys walk out. Then here comes Graves for a rematch against the ones who broke his arm, complete with his entourage behind him. Surprisingly the whole broken arm thing fits the storyline well, after some panicking from the writers and producers.

"Your boy broke my arm." Graves starts, grin sharp, canines poking out. Grinning despite the red-hot pain in his arm.

"We do what we have to. Keep your mouth shut next time, aye?" It's a measured response from Price, but the headbutt Soap does as soon as the sentence settles is definitely not.

"Grab your popcorn people, the world's Street Fight Champion Soap is jumping right into the fight!" And there's your voice, over the speakers. Sounding thrilled.

The fans both cheer and jeer and Ghost’s chant is started up, a steady thump, thump, of boots on the floor of the stadium.

The fight starts without much else, men thrown and chairs cracked over heads. With the disadvantage Graves has, it's clear who will win, but the play-by-play is still fun to give.

"Oh! And Graves has got Soap on the ropes, can he break his hold- and Ghost runs up behind him, always on his six, yanking Graves away! This is the Champion duo ladies and gentlemen."

And maybe it's distracting the boys a little. Maybe Johnny puffs up a little when you point out his title, maybe Ghost looks over at the booth for a little too long. Just maybe. And just maybe that gives the Shadows an opening for a takedown move or two. And just maybe, the 141 loses twice in a row.

[hahaifolded]

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Nikolai (Long Drabble) Author's Notes: There was a poll past this picture. Don't scroll if you don't want spoilers. And also since I have y'all here, thank you for all of the support on this little series of mine! Warnings: MDNI, Sexual Themes, Angst

So, no, things were not fine.

Especially when the only person who gets an ounce of your kindness these days is Nikolai.

When the only person that is allowed in your office to “do work, because the rest of the place is too gloomy” is Nikolai. 

When the only person who is allowed to ask you about your well-being and actually get an answer is Nikolai. 

When all the 141 can do is watch.

Was this their punishment? To see you get closer with someone else right under their noses.

No, this was not their punishment.

Although you are constantly in their mind, Johnny, Kyle, John, and Ghost were hardly in yours these days. Maybe a few months ago, they were. Maybe when you saw a good piece of art, or smelled something really good, or touched something really soft, or heard a beautiful piece of music, you used to think of the boys. Maybe when you laid in bed at night and needed a quick release, you used to picture their bodies on top of yours to get you to that high point - maybe it was just one of them or all four at one time.

But, these days, they just exist how you exist in their minds: co-workers with no obligations to one another. Just a group of people who only need the other to get their job done and that's all. If that's what they wanted, that's what they get. If that's how they'll treat you, you'll treat them the same.

So you being friendly with Nikolai was just you matching his energy. He's friendly, so you are too. There was no ulterior motive here, because doing anything out of spite means you care and honestly you didn't care (that much) anymore.

All you cared now was your work and earning your ticket out of here.

But, to your dismay, it seemed like Nikolai had his own ulterior motives.

The last time Nik was here, which was around your second month with the 141, he noticed the way all of the guys looked at you. He knew that they liked you, probably before they did even. So now that he's back, he wanted to play matchmaker.

And honestly, this was the perfect scenario for the team. All 4 of them dating the same person. They were a unit, a package deal, a team. None of them were able to hold down a partner on their own... he's seen it with his own two eyes. But together, they would be unstoppable. And it seemed like you had more than enough love to give so honestly this was a win-win for everyone. But, things weren't exactly where he wished they were.

That's why when the current mission was over, Nik decides to take matters in his own hands.

After wrapping up on the final reports for the latest mission, Price calls for a celebratory bar trip. Nik is right behind the rest of the guys when he notices you falling behind.

"Aren't you coming?" he calls out. The 141 freezes while you look up like a deer caught in the headlights.

"No, I actually have--"

"Nonsense! We can't celebrate without you. Right Captain?" Nik looks at Price for support who only looks at the ground. Nik didn't take John to be the shy type. And not just John as everyone else looked at either the floor or the walls. Wow, this might be more work than he expected.

After begging for 20 minutes, Nik eventually wears you down. He would not take no for an answer.

But now as you sit with the 141 and Nikolai, you really wished you had told the Russian to fuck off. This was just painfully awkward. The only person that's talking is Nik and he just got up to get the next round of drinks. You would try to make small talk but they wouldn't even bother looking at you.

Thankfully, Nik comes back quick with 6 beers. After handing each guy a beer and taking one for himself, he slams the 6th one in front of you.

"We're here to celebrate, so drink with us!" he cheers as he tries to pull your soda from your hands.

You pull back and admit that you don't drink. The rest of the guys still at that.

Nik lets out a hearty laugh. "What do you mean you don't drink? The last time I was here I saw you down 5 tequila shots like they were water."

"Well, I stopped after... a bad night. I don't want to make the same mistake twice," you say before taking a sip out of your soda. Nik backs off and happily takes the beer for himself. The rest of the team just sit in silence. John and Ghost immediately down their drinks in an attempt to push down their guilt. Johnny starts to bounce his leg as he fights the urge to say something. And Kyle watches the condensation runs down his beer as his mind races.

A moment passes before Nik starts the conversation up again. He calls out your name and asks if you were interested in anyone on base. Everyone chokes on their drinks.

After catching your breath, you asks Nik why he would ask such a question.

"Oh c'mon, you're telling me that no one has caught your eye. Not even these big guys?" he quips while signaling at the 141. Their eyes widen at Nik's question. Wanting to know if you were interested in any of them, they finally look at you.

They wished they didn't, because your face twisted in utter disgust.

"Nikolai, I am here for one thing and one thing only and that's to do my job. I have no time nor desire to pursue anyone on this base and less this team," you got up from your seat and dropped some bills on the table.

"Wait, I didn't mean to offend or anything," Nik cries. He reaches for you. This is not where he thought this conversation would go.

"Of course, no one ever does. Everyone just talks and talks and assumes that I won't take it to heart. Well guess what, I'm done," you finish up your soda. "So I need you, and everyone else here, to get it together, because starting Monday, we are starting that joint mission and I refuse to look like a fool because you guys can't be professional" And with that, you leave the bar.

Nikolai is gasping for air. What the fuck happened? He looks at the rest of the team and is met with guilty faces.

What did they do?

Word Count: 1107

More Thoughts - Next Thought

[codnasties]

part 2 of semi public soap but the rest of the 141! join the next few nights? 😩

GOD you put this idea in my mind and i just had to do it

gangbang w/141 🧼👻🚬🧢 [semi-public w/soap pt. 2] (🌽 link)

after that stunt that you and soap pulled, price decided to give soap a scolding, because, you know, there is a time and place to do stuff. however, soap decided to play a quite childish card and tease his captain, telling him that he was jealous and that he wished it had been him fucking you and making you moan like that. and price slipped, as a result of the mocking, stating that he did, in fact, wish that had been him, and so did gaz and ghost.

so soap just makes it happen because, unbeknownst to his mates, this is something you and him have discussed before and are on board to try. so quite literally the following night you have these four men in a tent that's way too small to house their muscular bodies.

having your beautiful body covered by a flimsy tank top and some barely-there patines is enough to get these men hard for you. but they let their captain call dibs first - since he's their superior, he's older and he's also the reason this is happening-, and all he asks for is to fuck your ass, because price fucking loves anal. so he just monopolies it for himself and makes sure that, regardless of the position that you three take, he's sheathed inside of your tight and barely touched hole.

good boy gaz let's ghost have a piece of your sweet pussy first. but make no mistake, it's just because he wants to be the first one to have your lips wrapped around his cock and wants to hear your noises being chocked out and the vibrations hitting his aching shaft. do not worry, he's gonna have a go at your cunt later. a blowjob is just the appetiser for the true main course: your walls tight around him.

ghost, unlike gaz, sees your mouth as the main course. don't be confused, he loves the feeling of his thick cock breaching into you and your walls fighting to accommodate him. but he just wants to cum in your mouth, and make sure that his seed paints your face and maybe even those delightful tits that you have -because he's a disgusting fucker and much to soap's discontent-.

and you may ask, and soap? nasty fucker is on the sidelines, jerking off to the sight of his mates having fun with you. he actually gave them a job: to cum inside of you, just so, as the munch that he is, he could use his mouth to clean you himself, all while he humps his aching boner against the air mattress in your tent until he cums.

now the ones having to put up with your loud moans and the squelching and sking hitting skin sounds for the remaining days of the trip aren't the 141, because they are the ones making sure to have you making those delicious noises sandwiched between them.

[d-emeter]

The world has gone to hell, but you've found your own paradise (or: apocalypse au with task force 141) — plus-size!fem!reader x poly!141

CW: zombie apocalypse (but no real zombies mentioned lol), allusion to smut but doesn't actually happen yet, soap being a horny bastard, implied age-gap?

HEAVILY based on the bill and frank storyline from the last of us but can be read as a generic zombie apocalypse so no worries if you haven't seen/played tlou! Also different format? Is this something?

Captain John Price who, over the years, has become a bit of a survivalist nut — a prepper, if you will.

Sure, his sergeants make fun of him for it sometimes, but he more than anyone knows the shit that plays behind the scenes, the things governments keep hidden, the threats that loom every damn day — so he'd rather be safe than sorry when the world inevitably goes to shit. He's almost smug about it when it does (he hadn't calculated in the zombie aspect of it all, but still)

Unfortunately for him, however, he and the rest of 141 are deployed when outbreak day comes around. More and more cities are bombed by the hour, the population dwindling by the second, and in the week that follows he and the boys are amongst those assigned to evacuate the smaller towns and villages and escort the citizens to quarantine zones — that is, until the QZ's are full and they're under direct order to execute those that didn't make it in.

Now, Price's moral compass has been skewed for some time now. He's done some stuff during his years serving — man or woman, guilty or innocent, it hadn't mattered to him then. It doesn't now, either.

What does him in is the tear that rolls down Soap's cheek when Price shoots the mother and child his sergeant couldn't bring himself to ("Aren't these the people we're 'posed tae protect, cap?")

He convinces his task force to desert that very night (they'd been hesitant, but in the end, they'd follow their captain to hell and back). They gather as many weapons, ammo and MRE's as they can get away with without being caught, and they're off into the night.

Price brings them to his home — a big, old house inherited from his grandparents somewhere in a small, sleepy village. He had spent the better part of his time on leave preparing the house to be self-sufficient should the need arise: generators on solar and wind power, water filters, a chicken coop and a garden set up in the backyard (that, and enough weapons to supply a small army in the garage)

They wait until this village gets evacuated, too, so they can claim it for themselves before raiders come around. They fence off a section of the town, set up traps and cameras, anything to ensure no unwanted visitors can enter, infected or not.

It's their own form of paradise, in a way. (the house has enough bedrooms to give them all their own — they end up in eachother's more often than not)

One day, you fall into their lives — literally. You've fallen into one of their traps, a literal hidden hole in the ground, and within a few minutes you hear the creak of a gate, multiple sets of feet and the unmistakable sound of a gun being loaded ("I'm not infected!" You yell from your hole before they can lay eyes on you, certain they'd shoot you on sight if you didn't)

The first thing you see is the barrel of the gun leering over the edge, before you see its owner — a man with a beard and the most intense eyes you've ever seen. He keeps his gun pointed at you while he makes you recite the alphabet, forwards then backwards, all with your hands held before you to ensure you weren't twitching. You pass his test, it seems, and a ladder is lowered into the hole.

Once you're back on the surface, you see it's not just the man with the beard — there's four of them in total, each looking more terrifying than the last, all muscle and bulk and having the ability to snap you like a twig should they feel the need. There are still guns pointed at you as you explain your situation and simultaneously beg for your life — you were with a group travelling to the nearest QZ, you're the only one left now ("Please, I didn't mean- Please don't hurt me, I'll be out of your hair before you know it — I won't tell anyone about this place! I haven't eaten in three days-")

John and Simon were hesitant at first, but their sergeants manage to convince them to let you inside, offer you some food before sending you on your way again (Soap had been frothing at the mouth a little the moment he had laid eyes on you — sure, they had kept eachother... satisfied, but "Cap, when's the last time any o' us felt the touch o' a lass? 'N such a pretty one at that..." and Price knows he can't deny them when Gaz leans over to whisper how prettily you had begged for your safety, surely it'd do no harm?)

Your eyes widen a little when the scary man with the beard tells you to come with them — your hunger ends up winning the battle with your brain as it tries to convince you that following four big male strangers into their fenced home is not a good plan.

You expected a dented can of beans and maybe a cup of water, so you're definitely more than a little surprised when they usher you into a bedroom with an ensuite, telling you to go take a shower (Soap wanted to follow you into the bathroom, mumbling something about wanting to double check for any bite marks. Ghost had to hold him back by his shirt)

You nearly cry when you feel the stream of hot water on your skin, and feel like you're in some sort of fever dream when you see the clean clothes laid out on the bed for you — granted, they're men's clothes, but anything is better than the rags you had on before.

You start to wonder if maybe you died and are in some sort of weird state between worlds when you come back downstairs to a table that's fully decked out and beautifully presented plates of food.

All of them turn to you immediately and you have to do your best not to falter under their stares (you don't notice the flustered little cough Price lets out at the sight of such a pretty creature in his shirt — god, maybe Johnny was right, it had been a while since he's had a woman, and such a young, plush one at that)

One of them — the one with the darker skin and the prettiest face you've seen in months — is the first to jump into action, hand on your lower back as he ushers you into a chair.

You're convinced you're dead when you bring the first bite to your lips — God, that's good. (Johnny nearly chokes on his food at the small moan you let out. Simon remains stoic, but damn him if he didn't feel a spark of heat in his gut at the sound)

The men start introducing themselves while you're shoveling food into your mouth. The man with the beard — John, you now know — explains that they're all ex-military. Through bites of food, you do your best to introduce yourself as well. You tell them your story, they tell you theirs (well, Johnny and Gaz do, mainly. The one called Simon still hasn't really said a word to you, and you can tell John is a little paranoid about sharing too much information with a stranger)

As the night progresses, there's a shift in the air. Kyle leans in a little too close while brushing a crumb away from your lip, and John lingers behind you a little too long as he refills your glass (you pretend not to notice the sound of his deep inhale as he leans over you).

John insists you don't have to help with the dishes, so you wander into the living room and are immediately intrigued by the piano standing there. Johnny joins you on the bench, thigh pressed against yours as you play with the keys. Simon — or 'Ghost', as you noticed the others called him sometimes — leans over you from behind, and your breathing nearly stops (Simon knows he's too close, but so what if he wants you to accidentally brush against his abdomen?)

Once it's all said and done, you try not to let your disappointment show as you prepare to leave. Much to your surprise, it's Simon that grunts something to you, speaking the first words he's said that night. ("Stay. F'r the night. 'S not safe out there.")

John keeps a heavy hand on your shoulder as he leads you back to the bedroom you were in earlier. It's his, he tells you, but he can stay with one of the others. ("Are you- Are you sure? I can take a couch, or-" "'M sure, love, good night's sleep 'll do you good. Give me a yell if y'need somethin', yeah?")

With that, he leaves you to it, shutting the door behind him. Fuck, that bed does look inviting, and you can almost hear your vertebrae begging for a soft mattress. As you get ready for bed, a thought enters your mind. It had... been a while.

Is what you're about to do a stupid decision? Maybe, but you figured if these men had wanted to hurt you they would've done it already, and you'd be lying if you said that all their touches and affection weren't having an effect on your panties.

You yell out their names from the room, and the four of them are there within a second, though they all falter at the door as they take in the sight before them — you're sitting in the bed, covers pulled up so the only thing visible are your bare shoulders and arms, and it's immediately clear what your intentions are.

Soap, once again, has to be held back by the scruff to prevent him from pouncing on you immediately. John, instead, is the first one to actually enter the room, sitting down on the bed and carefully bringing his hand to caress your cheek while asking if you're sure about this (he'd rather not admit the way he shuddered a bit when he made contact with the soft skin of your face)

Your answer is immediate, you've made up your mind — on one condition ("I'm not... a whore, or anything. I don't sleep with people for food or shelter or anything, just- if we're doing this... I'm staying. For a while.")

Simon nearly laughs at this — funny how you think they would have let you leave otherwise.

[wordstome]

COD Men as Dream Daddy DILFs

Call of Duty single dads x gn!single parent reader

⤐Characters: 141 + König + Horangi + Keegan

⤐Premise: You just moved into a neighborhood with a high population of retired military personnel.

*glances at my 3-4 wips* let's talk about some dilfs, shall we? ...Don't look at me. I had a vision. (No relation to the actual characters from Dream Daddy, just a similar premise) Also a disclaimer: I'm writing these dads mostly in their late 30s to 40s, but don't think about their ages and the ages of their kids too much. This is all vibes. And sorry ahead of time if I gave one of the kids the same name as you 💀 Feel free to imagine the kid has a different name because the names really don't matter

p.s. I wanted to write more characters but I had to reel myself in. I could be persuaded to write a part 2 with Vaqueros, Nikolai, Valeria, Nikto, and other Ghosts tbh

Warning: this shit is LENGTHY. Strap yourself in.

Price: A post about DILFs and you expect me not to start with Captain John Price? Price is the lynchpin of this cul de sac. He's the one inviting everyone over to the barbecue, tries to get the dads to get along, and gives everyone advice. He has the quintessential dad energy. He 100% slaps his knees and says "well!" when he gets up. Price also has major girl dad energy. He's got three adorable little ladies, aged 3 (Clara), 9 (Brianna), and 11 (Alice). Yes, he did name his daughters in ABC order, I can see him doing that. Oh, he dotes on his girls, and they love their dad endlessly. He's the model father: recitals, sports, parent teacher conferences, you name it, he's there.

That's how the two of you meet: he comes up to you at one of the aforementioned events and gives you a firm handshake and apologizes profusely for not coming around to introduce himself earlier. It's not like him not to at least swing by, and he hopes you can forgive him the discourtesy. He hands you his number and says anything you need, just give him a call, or maybe swing by for a beer sometime. He gives you a wink that makes your knees weak, a wink that says he definitely noticed you checking out his muscled arms and broad shoulders. Maybe you will swing by for that beer sometime—and maybe get a little more than just a drink.

Ghost: I could see Simon having a one night stand kid. He certainly never saw himself starting a family after he lost his last one, but he was stressed and probably piss drunk as well. Years and years later, he's back from deployment and finds a social worker with a boy on his doorstep, and the rest is history. I love the idea of Simon with a moody 16 year old, but I actually see Simon and his son having the same dynamic as Mike and Abby Schmidt from the FNAF movie. Since Simon wasn't around for Caden's early childhood, they have a relationship that's undeniably father and son, but leaning towards casual and sibling-like. Simon's figuring his shit out, dealing with his PTSD and the various lasting health issues his time in special forces has left him with, and Caden's a quiet, sensitive 10 year old boy who thinks the world of his dad.

You meet Simon at the local bar. His Ghost days are long behind him, but the balaclava's a hard habit to kick. Besides, he doesn't need people staring at his scars. He's usually there with the 141, but today he's alone, and looks like he could use some company. You sit up at the bar close to him and order a drink, but you don't disturb him, and he visibly relaxes when he realizes you're not going to try to make small talk. It becomes a routine, the two of you: always sharing a quiet drink together at the bar, and then both of you wordlessly go home to your kids. You have a sort of silent conversation every time: Good to see you again. Yeah, you too. Neither of you actually speak a word to the other until Price introduces you to him at a gathering, and you finally hear his voice. "We've met before," he says, with a glint in his eye that suggests perhaps he'd like to be more than just a silent drinking buddy. That's fine with you: you're dying to see what's under the mask and dark hoodie.

Soap: JOCK ALERT. Johnny's basically Craig from Dream Daddy: total dreamboat who goes on runs around the neighborhood and gets all the appreciative looks from the local moms. He thrives on the attention in a way that definitely makes the 141 roll their eyes. He's got an older little girl named Elodie, and a lil baby boy Thomas that he takes everywhere with him. Obviously he's just being a responsible parent taking care of an infant, but secretly, Thomas is a great conversation starter with aforementioned local moms.

Conversely however, it's Johnny who makes the move on you first. Maybe in the grocery store, maybe at one of Price's get-togethers. Sidles up to you and introduces himself with a look in his eye that means trouble. Only the good kind of trouble, of course. If you reciprocate and he finds out you're single, you're not getting rid of him. But why would you want to, anyway? He's endlessly charming, attentive, and good with his hands. When he's fixing a leaky tap for you, of course—what did you think I meant?

Gaz: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is a fucking heartthrob. I'm saying it right here, right now. He's a walks in with flowers, makes you dinner kind of partner. Also househusband vibes, because, surprise: Kyle is still married. This isn't a Joseph (Dream Daddy) situation, though: he and his wife, Emily, have known each other for a long time, a very high school sweethearts situation. Over the years, though, they drifted apart with Kyle in the military, and Emily eventually realized she's not actually into men. They're still married for coparenting purposes: they've got an older teenage girl named Violet, and a younger boy named Elliott. (Yes, I'm naming him after Elliot Knight, sue me.)

Honestly, I think it would be HILARIOUS if you met Kyle on a dating app and realized he's your next-door neighbor. But however you guys meet, Kyle is an old-school courter kind of guy. He is taking you on dinner dates, listening to you rant about your day, and is on your doorstep in a heartbeat when you call him in a panic because your kid's running a 105 fever (41 in Celsius) and you need a ride to the emergency room. (Not that the other dads wouldn't do the same, but I'm trying to convey "most reliable man in the world" vibes here.)

König: Y'all...you don't know how much fucken time I've spent thinking about this man as a dad. He's in the same boat as Ghost where he never saw himself living long enough to start a family, but here he is with the most precious little girl you've ever laid eyes on. Ava's got her father's curly hair and big green eyes, and she has her dad wrapped around her pinky finger. For König, Ava is living proof that he's capable of being more than just a tool for violence.

You meet König through Ava, of course. Your kids are the closest of friends, and the two of them are constantly going over to each other's houses. You're obviously delighted that your kid is making new friends and fitting in so well, but you'd be lying if your heart didn't skip a beat whenever you open your door to see Ava's six foot ten dad standing there with soft eyes and a sheepish smile. I have to stop here, because I've already written an extra paragraph for this man that I've cut out and pasted for safekeeping in my notes app, and if encouraged I will write more. (Please encourage me.)

Horangi: I know we already had a sort of Robert (Dream Daddy) figure with Ghost, but I think Horangi is a dad whose kid is an adult, much like Robert and Val. I also think that out of all the dads, Horangi is likely the one who's still doing some level of military work. Either that, or he has a very demanding job that takes up a lot of his time. He's ashamed of the way he let his gambling affect his family in the past, and is making up for it by being responsible and keeping his finances in order.

You don't meet him until you've lived in the neighborhood for quite a while, but he pops up at a gathering, talking quietly with König in a corner. You'd thought you had met every neighbor in the cul de sac, so you're intrigued by the newcomer. Someone, probably Price, tells you what Hong-jin's deal is, and ever since that you just can't keep your eyes off of him. You can't quite work up the nerve to talk to him, so you occupy yourself talking with the other parents. Some time later, you're at the food table grazing on the snacks when you look up and make eye contact with him. There's something intense in his gaze that makes you freeze, like a deer in headlights. He's definitely checking you out, you think. Your chest erupts into nervous butterflies when he starts walking towards you.

Keegan: Keegan is an adoptive father! I love his dynamic with the Walker boys, so I can see him being the kind of guy who adopts an older teenager so they have a home and a family instead of aging out of the system. Jason and Cecelia are high school age siblings who would have been separated otherwise, and consider Keegan their dad in every way that's important.

I think you and Keegan are definitely rivals in some way. Maybe it's a PTO thing, maybe he gets a little too boisterous at your kids' sports game. Whatever it is, you can't stand the man, but your annoyance whenever he's around only seems to amuse him. You have no problem saying to his face exactly what you think about him, but unfortunately, Keegan can see right through you. And hey, Cecelia could use some experience as a babysitter, so you won't have to worry about spending the night over at his place, will you?

As always, I wanna hear peoples' thoughts and feedback! If you want to hear more about these dads, drop me an ask <3

[frudoo]

I beg for more slasher 141 pleeeease 🫶🫶🫶🫶

Part 2 to this <3

Warnings: Dark!Fic/DDDNE, hopefully that's obvious. Gore, slight torture, infidelity (not by 141). Fem!Reader.

     “Thank you for staying with me,” you hum, leaning up from where you sit on the bathroom counter to plant a kiss on his stubbled jaw.

“You know you don’t have to thank me, sweet girl.”

     John finishes wiping off the last of your face mask, grabbing your moisturizer and gently rubbing it in with his fingertips. Wiping his hands off on a towel, he bends down to press a kiss to the luscious layer of fat beneath your chin. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, allowing him to lift you by your ass and carry you back to his bedroom. Yours is far too lonely right now, and frankly, John likes having you all to himself from time to time. 

     He lays you down on his cozy bed, making sure you’re all warm and comfortable beneath the covers before he strips himself of his clothes. You smile at the sight of his body, muscular and strong but with some fat on his gut. Tufts of dark hair make themselves known all over his torso and teasing a delicious crescendo down his tummy, the peak of which concealed by his boxers. John climbs into the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms and coaxing your head to rest on his cushy chest. 

     “John?” You ask softly.

     He hums, tilting his chin down to see you better. You bite your lip, about to tell him to forget about it, but he senses your unease. 

     “What is it, darlin’?” John sits up and rests his back against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap so he can look into your eyes. 

     “I-it’s nothing. Just… earlier, when I was in the bath, you said… you said I’d get a turn on that guy soon enough. What did you mean by that?” You fiddle with your hands nervously. 

     “What’s it sound like, sweet girl? The boys are bringin’ him back, figured you might wanna join in on the fun,” John explains, big hands kneading the plush of your waist. “That somethin’ you wanna do?”

     Your breath hitches in your throat. You know what they do, of course, but you’ve never actually been involved in a kill. They’ve never even exercised the idea of having you help until now. It’s overwhelming.

     “I-I don’t… I-” You stutter, your chest starting to heave with anxiety.

     “Shh, baby, it’s alright. You don’t have to if you don’t think you can handle it,” he coos, baby blues softening as they stare you down. 

     “I- can I just… talk to him? Before you do anything?” You ask quietly, resting your trembling hands on his shoulders.

     “Yeah, darlin’. Whatever you want,” he whispers, cusping the back of your head and pulling you down for a tender kiss. “Let’s get some sleep, hm? We can talk more about it in the mornin’. Sound good?”

     You nod at the same time he readjusts back into the previous position, his back to the mattress, your head on his chest, legs all tangled up. Sleep comes easy despite all the chaos you’ve been through today, snuggled up with one of your protectors. 

     Typically, you’re woken up with a pair of lips trailing kisses down your neck, or the smell of breakfast cooking in the kitchen. Today, however, it’s the pained screams of a man being dragged around outside that startles you awake. John’s not in bed when you open your eyes, and it makes your heart drop. This is all too real. Your men are expecting you, one way or another. 

     Nervous hands pull one of John’s sweatshirt’s over your trembling body, followed by a clean pair of his boxers. It’s hardly appropriate clothing considering what you’re about to involve yourself with, but it smells like him and you could use some comfort right now. Not even bothering to put shoes on, you carefully step down the stairs and walk outside, eyes frantically searching for the source of the pathetic sobs.

     When you find it, the sight causes bile to rise in your throat. Simon’s holding the man up by his armpits, and there’s a burlap sack covering his head. His knees are broken, calves protruding forward where they should bend back, and upon further inspection, you discover that most of his fingernails have been ripped off. Tears flood your eyes when you finally find your voice, a whimper escaping your throat. It alerts Kyle whose head instantly turns in your direction. He beckons you over, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

     “This is him,” he whispers, kissing your temple soothingly. 

     “How are you so sure?” Your bottom lip wobbles as you look up at him, eyes wide with fear and remorse though you’ve done nothing wrong.

     “Checked your dashcam, dove,” Kyle explains, massaging the shoulder his hand rests on. “Looked him up online. Real clean-cut fella.”

     “Sick fuck has a wife, three kids,” Simon joins in with a sneer. “Guess where we found him?”

     “A fookin’ motel,” Johnny answers before you get the chance. “Shaggin’ a prostitute. Paid ‘er a fair sum fer ‘er silence. Nae cop would listen tae ‘er anywey.”

     John is the last to arrive, tool belt full of sharp weapons jangling with every step he takes. He calls your name but you can’t tear your eyes away from the living ragdoll. The bile has settled itself back into your stomach, and in place of your uncertainty is a gnashing anger begging you to do something about it. In the back of your mind you know you can’t do any true harm to him, but you’re going to do something.

     You gently pull free from Kyle’s hold, stalking toward the weeping man. There’s no tremble in your hands when you pull the burlap sack off of his head, letting it fall to the dewy ground. It’s definitely the man who harassed you, there’s no doubt about it—from the dirty blonde hair adorning his head to the ugly scar that runs across his cheek. He opens his eyes to look around, and when they land on you, he lets out his most pathetic wail yet.

     “No! F-fuck, is that- are you- fuckin’ bitch! You… you fuckin’-” He sputters, and that familiar voice makes your head pound.

     “Does your wife know you’re a pervert?” You ask calmly. “How about your kids, hm? Do they know Daddy likes to go around touching women who aren’t Mommy?”

     “Y-you don’t know wh-what you’re talkin’ about,” he defends, hot tears falling down his flushed face.

     “Don’t worry, they’ll never know what a sorry excuse of a man you were. Do you think they’ll mourn your absence when you’re reported missing, or are they so used to it that it’ll be a weight off their shoulders?”

     “Fuck you!” The man shouts the best he can through a raw throat, and you laugh, leaning in closer to whisper into his ear. 

     “Not a chance.”

     As you turn to walk away, you pretend not to hear his screams as your men drag him into the barn, nor the sounds of Johnny’s chainsaw roaring shortly after.

[gloomwitchwrites]

How would the 141 boys + Nikolai (everyone's favorite Russian dilf) react if their s/o proposed to them with a sword? Like a custom, made by an actual blacksmith, sword? I'll also leave capes on the table, you can choose what to do with that idea.

Swords? Capes? Sorry, I’m dying over here. Never would have thought of this honestly. Just a fair warning, this entire thing is going to consist of me rambling and just putting my brain thoughts into words. Read at your own risk.

Written w/ gn!reader

Price: This man is in awe when you present him a sword. Don’t worry about him saying “yes.” Price is just impressed that you went out of your way to do this for him, to propose to him with a work of true craftsmanship. He’s cherishing that sword, putting it in his office where he can look at it every day, and when people ask him about it, he’ll proudly say that his wife/husband/partner proposed to him with it.

Ghost: If anything, Simon is just going to stare at you for a ridiculous amount of time when you present the sword and propose to him. Like, awkward silence that stretches a bit and you aren’t sure whether you should say something or just let it be. Eventually, he answers with a firm “yes.” However, that’s probably all you’re getting from this big brute of a man. But the sword? He’s taking that thing with him into battle. Are you kidding? He’s cutting down enemies with it. Capes? Possible but optional.

Gaz: There are capes involved in this proposal. Not because it was planned but because it happens when the two of you go to a Ren Fest together. Dressed in cosplay, Kyle doesn’t expect it at all when you excuse yourself to go purchase “drinks” and come back with a sword. Of course, he says “yes.”

Soap: His immediate reaction is the Scottish version of “hell yeah” the moment that sword comes out. You went out of your way to have a custom sword made for him? An actual sword? He’s cherishing that for the rest of his life. He’s showing it off to everyone. He’s making up stories about it like it’s an actual weapon he takes on mission. A cape for him during the wedding? Unlikely. But he’s strapping that sword on him.

Nikolai: If you approach Nikolai with a sword with the intention of proposing to him, this man is going to laugh his ass off and then pull out a sword to propose right back. You think you were the only one with this idea? Guess again. The two of you share a single braincell. Also, no capes at the proposal, but he insists on capes for the wedding.

main masterlist

[beloveds-embrace]

I live for the Found Family trope, it is like the air I breath and the dukedom AU is an amazing found family AU. Like the dutchess family never really cared for her, she was a commodity to be sold to her husband for political gain and she expected a life of abuse and servitude under his control, just like she was to her parents. But then she meets these amazing 4 men who worship the ground she walks on and takes time to actually get to know her and appreciate and love her and for the first time in her life she realises what a family is all about. Its love and acceptance and it is so so beautiful. And if her parents were cruel to her before her marriage and they find out? They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but those boys would do everything in their power to destory her birth families reputaion and burn them to the ground.

FOUND FAMILY TROPE IS SO GOOD I ADORE IT 😩 i fully agree with you babes it makes me soo happy to write and see duchess getting loved like this

Dukedom 141 masterlist

You had spent your entire life as a pawn on your parents’ chessboard. A daughter shaped and molded not for love but for utility- trained to smile, to bow, to obey, first and then for your eventual husband. Your parents had made it clear that your worth lay in what you could offer them: alliances, power, status, and children. When they married you off, it wasn’t for your happiness. It was to seal a deal, and you had braced yourself for a life of cold, unfeeling servitude.

But then… there was John. And Kyle. And Simon. And Johnny.

You hadn’t expected kindness. You hadn’t expected warmth. You certainly hadn’t expected love. But that’s what you found with them anyways, a safe place to let your tender little heart rest and be adored

Johnny, with his reckless charm and unwavering loyalty, was the first to make you laugh when you thought you never would again. Kyle, steady and dependable, made you feel safe in ways you hadn’t even known you needed. Simon, sharp-tongued and fiercely protective, saw straight through your walls and vowed to stand guard at their gates. And John-your husband in name, but so much more than that in heart- looked at you like you were his entire world and made sure you never doubted it.

A family forged- not by blood, but by choice. And for the first time, you understood what family was supposed to be. It was laughter shared over quiet dinners and comfort offered without question. It was hands that held you steady, hands that didn’t hurt or inflict pain on you, but rather held you like you meant the world. And voices that called your name not as an order but as a promise. It was love, unconditional and endless.

When your birth family cams for a visit, they thought they still held power over you. They thought their words and threats could send you crawling back, begging for their approval. Cruelty lacing every letter and ever word, meant to remind you that they truly view you as something to be used and abused per their wants and needs.

But they hadn’t accounted for the four men who stood by your side now.

Johnny laughed at their arrogance when they demanded to see the chef because they weren’t happy with the food, sharp and biting, remembering how he had to spend nights promising you that you weren’t losing or gaining weight, you didn’t need to skip out on meals out of fear- he knows it was all their fault and he hates them. Kyle, calm but cold, began drafting plans to dismantle their influence piece by piece, never once hesitating, from the very second he witness the way they brushed you aside and didn’t let you speak. Simon was already spreading whispers that would see their allies turn against them, and John- oh, John- made it clear that any further attempts to harm you would be met with ruin, his voice sharp and eyes sharper, pullinh you behind him gently when it was clear your parents might strike you.

Because hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? No.

Hell hath no fury like the men who love her.

And to you, it was such a beautiful fury.

[oaksgrove]

The Best-Kept Secret.

Pairing: Platonic!Task Force 141 x married!Reader

Synopsis: The team always thought you were an enigma—a shadow on and off the field, a soldier with no loose ends. Until a mission in Switzerland leads them to an unexpected discovery: you’re not just seeing someone. You’re married. And while they’ve spent years in combat, dodging bullets and chasing warlords, you’ve been coming home to a soft-spoken bookstore owner who reads you poetry and kisses your forehead. Now, Soap is spiraling, Gaz is amused, Ghost is quietly impressed, and Price is—well, Price already knew, didn’t he?

Warnings: Found family fluff, ridiculous levels of espionage for something completely unnecessary, Soap in emotional distress, Price being the wise dad, and Elias being disgustingly romantic.

Word Count: 2512

The mission in Switzerland had been a success. A long, grueling success, but a success nonetheless. The team was tired, ready to return to base, but as they walked through the crisp, cold streets of a quiet Swiss town,something about you was different.

You weren’t trudging along like the rest of them.

No.

You were practically floating.

You shrugged a little too casually. “Just gonna swing by an old friend’s place. Haven’t seen ‘em in years.”

Price’s sharp gaze flicked to you. Ghost barely tilted his head, but you could feel his stare.

“An old friend, huh?” Gaz asked, crossing his arms.

Price hummed, unimpressed. “That so?”

“Yep,” you said too quickly. “Won’t be long.”

Gaz watched as you adjusted your gloves, the tiny, barely-contained excitement in your movements betraying you. He glanced at Ghost, who tilted his head ever so slightly. They all knew you weren’t lying, not really—but you were definitely hiding something.

You weren’t reckless. You weren’t prone to wandering off alone after missions. And more importantly, you weren’t good at masking excitement.

So, naturally, the boys followed you.

“We’re not seriously doin’ this,” Gaz whispered as they tailed you through the quiet streets.

“Oh, we absolutely are,” Soap shot back, ducking behind a parked car.

Ghost sighed, but he was still here, wasn’t he?

Price—who should have been above this nonsense—was also present, watching you with the kind of intrigue usually reserved for high-value targets.

They kept their distance, moving like shadows through the quiet streets, watching as you walked—not with the usual alertness of a soldier, but with an uncharacteristic lightness. Your shoulders were loose, your pace unhurried, and there was something about your expression—

A smile.

A real one. Not the usual smirk, not the practiced mask you wore in the field, but something soft and genuine, capable of lighting up the entire street.

Soap actually stumbled at the sight. “Bloody hell. She’s glowing.”

Gaz nudged him. “Keep your voice down. She’s happy about something.” noting the bounce in your step, the way you didn’t check your surroundings like you normally would. You weren’t scanning for threats, weren’t walking with the stiff alertness of a soldier.

You looked… soft.

Gaz squinted. “She’s giddy.”

Price stroked his beard, thoughtful. Ghost remained silent, though his eyes tracked every movement.

Then, you stopped.

At a bakery.

The team exchanged confused glances as they watched you step inside, the shop’s warmth fogging up the glass. A few moments later, you emerged with a small paper bag and two hot chocolates. 

Soap narrowed his eyes. “Two?”

Gaz raised an eyebrow. “Why two?”

Price stroked his beard. Ghost tilted his head.

And then, they watched as you walked—still smiling, still oblivious to the four highly-trained operators tailing you. 

Your pace was slow, relaxed, happy. Like you had all the time in the world. Like you were walking toward something you wanted. 

Price had muttered, “She’s meeting someone important.”

And then…

The bookstore.

The moment you reached the door, something shifted.

Soap squinted. “Hold on. Why is it closed?”

The bookstore was dark, the Closed sign hanging in the window. No other customers inside.

And yet—

When you knocked, the door unlocked almost instantly.

A man let you in, smiling as if he’d been waiting just for you.

Tall, dark-haired, charming beard, handsome in a way that wasn’t loud, but deeply noticeable. His glasses sat low on his nose, like he’d been reading before you arrived.

And the moment he saw you, his entire posture softened.

The tension in his shoulders melted, his lips twitching into a familiar smile.

He kissed your forehead, then your cheek.

And the team lost their collective minds.

You handed him the hot chocolate, your own smile bright and warm. He kissed the back of your hand before leading you inside.

Gaz made a choking noise. “She knocked.”

Soap ran a hand down his face. “He closed the whole damn store for her?”

Ghost tilted his head. “It’s… romantic.”

Soap shot him a betrayed look. “Not helping.”

Inside, the two of you walked past the counter, weaving between bookshelves like you’d done it a hundred times before.

He guided you to a corner booth near the window. You were curled into his side, head resting against his chest, the two of you pressed together in that way people do when they don’t even realize they’re gravitating toward each other.

The man picked up a book he had been reading, flipping it open.

Then, as if this whole thing wasn’t already a slap in the face, he started reading to you. 

Like you had never left.

Like this was a routine.

Like he had been waiting for you to come home.

And you let him.

His voice was low and warm as he murmured something in your ear, making you laugh softly. You nudged him in mock protest, but your eyes shone with affection. And without even breaking conversation, he broke off a piece of your pastry and held it up to your lips.

And you ate it without hesitation.

Didn’t grab it. Didn’t protest. Just let him feed you.

Ghost muttered, “She’s so in love, it’s bizarre.”

“She lied to us.” Soap muttered, pacing. 

“She didn’t lie,” Gaz reasoned. “She just… omitted small details.”

Ghost crossed his arms. “She omitted a whole man.”

Price pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, let’s leave her be.”

Soap whipped around. “Are you joking? After all the mystery? After all the secrecy? And it turns out she’s—what? In love?”

Gaz smirked. “It’s kinda sweet, actually.”

Soap gestured wildly toward the bookshop. “Sweet? SWEET? She’s been sneaking off to a romance novel!” 

Ghost’s eyes narrowed. “Wait.”

They all turned back toward the window just in time to see it.

And then—The man reached for the chain around his neck.

Soap squinted. “What’s he doing?”

The man—your husband, they were realizing—slid a ring from the necklace and onto your finger.

Like he had done this before.

Like it had always belonged there.

Ghost exhaled. “Oh.”

Soap made a strangled noise. “No.”

Gaz physically grabbed his arm before he could storm the building. “Mate. Don’t.”

Inside, you ran your fingers over the edge of your ring, smiling softly as he kissed your temple.

This wasn’t new.

This was familiar.

This was home.

Soap put his hands on his knees, trying to breathe. “She’s been married this whole time?”

Gaz leaned back, hands on his hips. “Well, shit.”

Price muttered, “How long?” like a man trying to process an entire alternate reality.

Soap was glaring at nothing. “We’ve been working with her for years. You’re telling me she’s been married this entire time?”

Ghost hummed. “Apparently.”

Soap pointed accusingly at the window. “She doesn’t even wear a ring on duty!”

“Yeah,” Ghost said dryly. “Because she didn’t want us to know.”

They watched as you laughed again, head tilting back slightly as your husband—your actual, literal husband—gently nudged your nose with his.

It was the kind of touch that wasn’t just casual.

It was muscle memory.

Gaz exhaled. “That’s real.”

Soap groaned. “I need to sit down.”

Ghost slapped his shoulder. “You’re already sitting.”

Soap groaned louder.

For a moment, none of them spoke.

The weight of it all settled in, each man processing the absolute bombshell you had just unknowingly dropped on them.

You, the enigma of Task Force 141.

You, who had kept your past tightly locked away.

You, who never shared too much about your personal life.

And yet—here you were, sitting in a small bookstore in Switzerland, drinking hot chocolate with a man who so clearly knew every piece of you.

Price sighed, finally standing straight. “Alright.”

Gaz looked at him. “Alright?”

Price glanced back at the window, then at his team. “She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”

Soap made a furious noise. “You’re just fine with this?”

Price gave him a look. The Captain look. “What exactly are you upset about, Johnny? That she didn’t tell us, or that she’s happy?”

Soap opened his mouth—paused—then closed it.

Gaz smirked. “Damn.”

Ghost, still watching you, nodded once. “If it was anyone else, I’d be concerned.”

Soap huffed. “He better be worth it.”

Ghost tilted his head. “Seems like he is.”

Inside, you ran your fingers over the edge of your ring, eyes soft as your husband kissed your temple.

Price exhaled. “Come on. Let’s give them their moment.”

And though Soap grumbled the whole way back, he didn’t argue.

Not this time.

Because despite the shock, the secrecy, and the absolute mindfuck of it all, you deserved this and none of them were about to ruin it.

The evening stretched on inside the small bookstore, wrapped in the kind of warmth that had nothing to do with the heater humming softly in the corner. The cold outside felt like a distant memory, replaced by the cozy cocoon of soft lighting, the faint scent of old paper, and the gentle hum of Elias’s voice as he read aloud from a worn book, his fingers tracing idle patterns against the back of your hand.

The world beyond those four walls didn’t exist. Not the mission, not the war, not the team you knew were drinking in some pub outside.

Just him.

Your husband.

Eventually, reality crept back in—the faint awareness that time was slipping away.

You sighed, your fingers tightening around his. “I should go.”

Elias closed the book gently, setting it aside without breaking eye contact. “Already?”

The disappointment in his voice was soft but unmistakable, a subtle ache beneath the warmth. He reached out, cupping your face in his large hand, his thumb brushing softly along your cheekbone.

“You just got here,” he whispered, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied your face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a brief moment, letting the comfort of him sink in. “I know.”

Elias’s other hand found your waist, pulling you gently closer until you were tucked into his chest, his bearded chin resting atop your head. His embrace was all-consuming, his arms wrapped around you like a shield, like he could hold back the world if he just squeezed tightly enough.

“You’ll be careful?” he murmured against your hair, his voice low and rough with emotion.

You smiled softly against his chest. “Always.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes warm and full of a quiet, fierce love. “I don’t care how good you are out there,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, “just… come back to me.”

Your heart twisted, the words threading through you like a quiet plea. You reached up, cradling his face between your hands, your fingers brushing through the soft edges of his beard.

“I always do,” you whispered back.

And then he kissed you—slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world, like the world outside didn’t exist. His hands framed your face, gentle despite their size, grounding you in a way nothing else ever could.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and reluctant, he pressed one last kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

You slipped the ring off your finger, threading it back onto the chain around his neck. It felt like a promise—silent but understood.

He caught your hand before you could step back, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, his lips lingering as if letting go was the hardest thing in the world.

You smiled softly. “I’ll see you soon.”

His reply was simple but full of weight. “I’ll be here.”

With one last glance, you turned and left, the cold air biting at your face as the door shut softly behind you.

You barely made it through the door before chaos descended.

They knew everything.

Elias Schneider. Bookstore owner. Former Professor. Linguist.

Gaz held up the Google search results like a declassified CIA file. “Big on philosophy and poetry.”

Soap snatched the phone. “So you’re telling me—while we’ve been getting shot at, crawling through mud, dodging missiles—she’s been coming home to some soft-spoken bookstore bloke who reads her poetry?”

Ghost hummed. “Explains the forehead kisses.”

Price exhaled. “Christ. That explains a lot.”

The moment your boots hit the threshold, all four of them were waiting—Soap leaning against the table with his arms crossed, Gaz perched on the arm of the couch, Ghost standing silently in the corner, and Price sitting with that annoyingly calm expression, like he’d been expecting this moment all along.

You didn’t even have time to take off your coat.

“Well,” Soap started, his eyes narrowing as he straightened up, “have a nice visit with your old friend?”

You paused mid-step, arching a brow. “Really?”

Gaz grinned. “Oh yeah. We’re doing this.”

You sighed, letting your bag drop with a soft thud. “You followed me.”

Soap didn’t even try to deny it. “Of course we did! You think we wouldn’t notice you floating down the street like you were starring in some bloody Hallmark movie?”

Price leaned back slightly, arms crossed. “You were glowing.”

Ghost remained silent, but the tilt of his head spoke volumes.

You shrugged out of your coat slowly, pretending to be unbothered, even as heat crept up your neck. “I wasn’t glowing.”

Gaz snorted. “Mate, you were a walking Lifetime christmas movie advertisement.”

Soap pushed off the table, pacing dramatically. “And the pastries! Two hot chocolates with little hearts on the cups? Little hearts, for Christ’s sake!”

You rolled your eyes. “So? Maybe I was just—”

“Oh, don’t even start,” Soap cut in, pointing an accusatory finger. “We saw you. In the bookstore. With the giant.”

Gaz chimed in, grinning like he’d won the lottery. “You kissed him.”

Ghost finally spoke, his voice low and even. “And the ring.”

The room went quiet for a beat.

You sighed, running a hand down your face. “Unbelievable.”

Soap’s eyes narrowed. “How long?”

You crossed your arms, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “None of your business.”

“Oh, it’s very much our business now,” Gaz said, leaning forward with a smirk. “You’ve been married this whole time?”

Price, still calm but clearly amused, added, “We’re just curious. For… team cohesion.”

You groaned, shaking your head. “You’re all insufferable.”

Soap grinned. “But you love us.”

You didn’t answer, but the faint smile tugging at the corner of your mouth was enough.

Price finally stood, patting your shoulder as he passed. “He seems like a good man.”

You paused, glancing at him. “He is.”

And for once, the room settled—no more teasing, no more interrogation. Just a quiet understanding.

But not for long.

“Wait,” Soap blurted out suddenly, turning back to you. “Does he read to you?”

You groaned. “I’m leaving.”

And as you disappeared down the hall, their laughter echoed behind you, filling the safe house with a warmth that had nothing to do with the heat.