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goatgoesmbe · 4 months ago

Text

tw : reader implied to have social anxiety, stalking

A series : discord shenanigans (Next)

AO3

Word count: 1808

rated: T

TF141 x f!reader

The welcome

This wasn't something you usually do, reaching out to strangers, seeking friends, socializing. It was only online, sure-- but you couldn't help the way your heart racing so hard you could feel it in your throat, your palms felt sweaty as you contemplated on clicking the link.

A discord server.

A public one at that.

Dedicated for people who took a liking on this FPS game you just got obsessed with. It was a pretty popular game, so you spent a lot of time looking for the one where it wouldn't be too crowded as to not overwhelm you. And surprisingly, you managed to find one.

It took you a few days to find it, scrolling at a few accounts that seemed to know each other very well. You tried to convince yourself that you weren't being creepy. After all, you followed one of them because you liked their posts which was mostly about games he recently played that you were also interested in, and also posts about a glimpse of his life. GazH8Heli.

You thought the guy was cool, definitely someone you wanted to get to know more.

But of course, you didn't have the courage to reach out.

Until.. today.

You saw his conversation in post replies about a gaming server which was opened for the public, even though the link wasn't shown in any post. Just told once in this particular reply.

Again, this wasn't something you usually do. You were content in being by your loneself with video games as your only companion.

But, this game you're recently obsessed with is a multiplayer game. And you were starting to get frustrated playing on random with strangers who couldn't cooperate.

Though, there is also a slight hope to find some kind of connection with someone. You were starting to get really lonely despite what you told yourself.

Just then you told yourself 'fuck it' and clicked on the link. Your heart racing so fast now that you felt nauseous-

"Welcomee..!!!" A message popped up on the screen, followed by the others who also welcomed you.

You fidgeted with the hem of your t-shirt as you watched the chat greeting you. It seemed like searching for a smaller server wasn't really a good idea. You should've expected this, for people to interact instead of ignoring a user who weren't their friends.

It seemed like there were four members who are active currently. CapBravo6 welcomed you first with a simple message, followed by the guy you followed-- greeting you in a more friendly manner by including heart emojis. The other one, Sexysoap69, spammed the chat with various silly gifs saying 'welcome' and you couldn't help but giggle. There was also a user who was seen as active but didn't appear in the chat, GhostSRK9.

They didn't show their faces on their icons (if Soap's mohawk didn't count), but from the vibes alone you could tell they were all guys who already know each other well.

You already feel like hiding at the thought of simply replying to their warm welcome, but you would overthink about it and feel even more horrible if you just ignored them. And so, you sent a message "Hello everyone, thank you for the welcome ^^"

You clicked sent before you could change your mind or overthink about how well the simple reply would be received. Fuck, you thought the emoji was nice, but now you read it again, it looked like you were trying too much-

Fortunately, the message was well received. too well..

Soap replied with a gif of a cartoon kissing the camera, while the others reacted to your reply with heart emojis.

And you realized that you've been smiling. God, you feel pathetic.

"How did you find this server?? 👀" Gaz asked. It was a simple question really, not a big deal. But you were starting to feel anxious again, like you were being interrogated for some kind of crime.

You couldn't think of anything better to say than the truth. "I actually found it in your social.. i hope it's okay, sorry"

And before you could overanalyze your own reply again, another message came. "Don't worry about it, I assume you're here because of the game then?" Gaz asked again, while you see Soap had been typing for a while now.. but hadn't sent anything more except for the previous gifs. You were thinking about being more considerate and letting Soap send his message first, but Kyle's message got your attention.

At his question, your fingers immediately danced on the keyboard. You proceeded to ramble about said game, your experience playing, how you've been up to date with every news about it, and a bit of bragging about your rank.

When you were done, you felt your heart sink when you saw that you practically just sent a whole essay. But before you could think anything bad about it- and yourself, the four reacted to it with various emojis. You found yourself smiling again.

"You gotta be lying about your rank.. no way" Gaz's message said.

"Yeah! Even Ghost's isn't that high" Soap added. You audibly giggle at this since you expected a longer message from how long he had been typing previously.

Despite being so very anxious earlier, you found yourself getting along with them just fine.

"I'm not lying, i just play a lot.." You contemplated on adding that it was because you have no life, but decided against it since you felt like it would be too self-deprecating for the first interaction.

"Prove them wrong, then" Price sent, the second message since the first one greeting you from when you just got in.

Despite your hands that were a bit shaky from both anxiety and excitement, you quickly opened the game and took a screenshot of your game profile before sending it to the server.

There were a lot of typing from their side before a message appeared.

"Just checked, it's real" Gaz sent before adding another one after. "Sent a friend request too ;)" You felt ashamed to blush at the emoji.

Soap sent another barrage of gifs. "Sent one too" He added after.

"Same here" Price chimed in.

Even Ghost finally appeared in the chat with a screenshot of him sending the request in the game.

You were definitely not used to this. Interacting with people so easily like you've known them for a while, and how well they received you, bombarding you with attention.

Once again, you felt pathetic for being giddy at something other people probably think as normal.

"Okay.. just accepted them all, thank you ^^" You sent it without second thought for some reason, which you immediately regret. What were you thanking them for? well.. for being really nice, but does it show how lonely you have been?

It didn't seem so from their replies which were still very positive.

And that's how you find yourself spending more time socializing online, compared to before where video games were your only friend.

Days passed, and eventually you started getting less nervous talking to them. You haven't got to the stage where you started a conversation first, but you were not as shy as before when replying now. You didn't consider yourself to be active in the server, but they made sure you were.

While you never send a message first, they always tag you in every conversation. Which made you feel like it would be rude to not respond.

The conversation started like how it was at first, talking about the game you've been obsessed with lately. But eventually it turned to something more personal.

You learned that they were in the military together, coworkers. Though the details seemed to be classified. They never talked about it, but from their conversation alone you assumed as much.

There were channels in the server dedicated to conversations unrelated to the game. Memes channel was mostly dominated by Soap where he sent everything he found funny there, while Gaz who actually sent something funny once in a while. There were creative space which also dominated by Soap, and you always replied to each of his drawings with compliments. How could you not when he tagged you every time he drew something. Not that you minded, he was a great artist.

The pictures channel was your favorite because you can see a glimpse of who they are. Price liked to send pictures of beautiful sceneries, Gaz sent photos he took that you would definitely add to your interest board, while Soap updated everyone randomly like a few times he posted pictures of him washing his hands in the sink with the following message "Just took a shit". You found yourself laughing at it every time despite the other's complaints.

Even Ghost was more active (as much as he was) in that channel. Sending pictures of the others sleeping (mostly Soap) without them knowing and photos of a military dog without any words said. Her name was Riley and you adored her.

And there was a vent channel, which was mostly Price scolding them for pulling pranks on him and the others. Soap would whine about injuries he got which made you really concerned, but based on the other's reactions, it seemed like a normal occurrence.

On some days, you were tempted to send something to that channel. To talk about stuff that's been bothering you. But you always found yourself deleting the long message you wrote.

Though, eventually enough, their friendliness made you want to share more about yourself.

"Just think the moon is pretty.. even though my phone can't really capture it, haha" You sent a picture of the night sky one day after multiple times fixing the message.

You still felt silly about sending said pictures, but you tried to convince yourself that the others were doing the same so it wasn't a big deal, shouldn't be a big deal.

"Not as bonnie as you ;)" You saw Soap replied immediately which distracted you from your thoughts.

You didn't see anyone else replying unlike usual, but they still left emojis on said pictures so you paid it no mind.

"You don't even know what i look like XD" You sent with a giggle.

There wasn't an immediate response from anyone which was a bit odd.. but you kept telling yourself to stop overthinking everything.

Unaware of the red light being on beside your front camera, meaning that it had been on for a while.

"The way you type is bonnie" Soap finally sent, but it was lacking gifs and emojis like he was quick to send it.

"Haha, what does that even mean.." You replied, oblivious as ever.

"Just.. how we think a pretty girl would talk like" Gaz chimed in as Soap was shown to be typing for a while now.

"Lol, okay then"

THIS got longer than it should be- so Im gonna put the rest in other chapters

open taglist : @partiallysame, @niazrzl, @iiriam, @sweetlike-sugarplum, @mordacioust, @boogeysmoth, @little-mini-me-world, @sxnshinebxcky, @thethingfromtheblacklagoon, @lady-red-night-1234, @just-pure-trash

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sentientcave · 1 year ago

Text

Retirement Party

Price has retired from Military life, and he's not handling the change well. But on the one year anniversary of him hanging it up, his boys bring him something special to help keep him busy. You.

Chapter One - The Perfect Gift

Next Chapter >

Contains: No Y/N (Reader is an OC), Kidnapping, Stalking, Drugging, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Threats (open-ended), I guess this might count as human trafficking?, Dubcon everything because Reader is terrified (non-sexual), plus-sized reader, fem/afab reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real.

~3.2k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above

"I told ye, she's perfect," Soap said, eyes on the window across the street. They could see you puttering around your living room, wearing a pretty flower print dress as you tidied up. "Good with bairns too, met her when I was pickin' up the niece and nephew from school. She was workin' for some rich family, an' they let her go because the wife found a pair of her knickers in her husband's briefcase." He snickered. He'd been the one to put them there, although, in his opinion, he’d been pushing the bounds for a long while anyway. Sure he’d essentially cast you adrift, jobless and with no one looking out for you, but, well, they were looking after you now, weren’t they? So it wasn’t all that bad.

"Good job, pup," Ghost said fondly, ruffling Johnny's hair. "Captain's gonna love 'er."

"How do you lads want to play it?" Gaz asked. "Could go in tonight. Won’t take much to knock her out, pack up her things, take her to the cabin. Get her nice and situated for when Price gets back."

"No point in waitin', is there?" Ghost asked. "Nice she's on the ground floor. Makes takin' 'er things easier. I'll go round 'n' check the windows in a bit. Should wait till after midnight. Don't want to be spotted by the neighbours."

"No' much risk o' tha'," Soap said. "Knocked over a bunch of bins last I was here and the cunts didna even turn on a light. Just the bonnie thing worryin’ while the rest of ‘em sleep sound."

Gaz lit a cigarette, nodding thoughtfully. "Small apartment too. Is there much to move?"

Soap shook his head. "Nah, no' much. Sweet girl lives simply. I told ye, she's perfect for the captain. He'll be able to spoil the fuck out of her, once she's broken in, aye?"

"Know 'e'll like that. Man needs a wife to dote on. ‘e’s been goin’ a bit crazy, all alone. An' 'e can train'er up nice."

"Think he might share?" Gaz asked wistfully, exhaling a stream of thin smoke as he sighed. "Nice soft girl like that-- Plenty to go around."

Ghost laughed. "Thought we'd 'ave trouble gettin' Johnny to keep 'is 'ands to 'imself, and you're the one droolin'."

"Scuse me for having eyes, mate. Just think she looks sweet."

"We'll get to see first 'and soon.” Ghost clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on lads. Let's get ready."

You wake up on the hard metal floor of a moving vehicle, your pounding head cradled in someone's hands. That's what you notice first, and the thumbs rubbing circles against your neck soothingly.

It has the opposite effect. Your eyes fly open.

“Hi, bonnie,” a somewhat familiar face grins down at you, blue eyes smiling, but too intense, glittering in the low light that filters in from the windows at the front of the truck. “How’s yer head?”

You grimace, trying to make sense of what’s going on around you. The back of the van seems to be filled with boxes. “Aren’t you Finn and Rory’s uncle?”

“Aw, ye remember me? Knew ye were a sweetheart.”

You try to sit up, but Johnny puts a strong hand on your shoulder and keeps you where you are. Your head feels too heavy to try and fight him, your muscles weak. “What’s going on?” you ask. “What— Is this a kidnapping?”

“Tha’s an ugly word, bonnie. We’re doin’ ye a favour, really. Settin’ ye up with someone respectable. Captain’ll take good care of ye.” He pats your cheek. “Whyna get back to sleep? Still a ways to go, aye?”

Maybe it’s just a bad, weird dream. You do feel foggy, like you’re not fully attached to your body, and keeping your eyes open is a struggle. You’ll wake up back in your own bed, and have a funny story to tell if you ever bump into Johnny again. He’s definitely too nice to be a kidnapper, right? Like, people don’t really do that sort of thing. It has to be a dream.

“Okay,” you mumble, letting your eyes close again.

As you suspected, you wake up again in bed. The headache’s receded some, and there’s warm sunlight streaming in through the windows. You bury your face into the pillows, and then bolt upright. The pillow smells weird, like sweet tobacco and spice, and you don’t get morning sun in your bedroom. The window faces a brick wall across a narrow alley.

The room you’re in now is not your room. It’s sparsely furnished, just a dresser under the window and the bed you’re tucked into, and two doors, one that’s clearly a closet, and one that must lead out into the rest of the… house? Judging by the sound of birdsong outside, you’re out of the city.

You pad to the window and look out. There’s a van in the driveway, and three men carrying things in. One of them looks up and spots you in the window, waving cheerfully.

Not a dream. Fear grips you, ice sliding down your spine, shards settling in your stomach, needling and uncomfortable. Your sinuses prickle like you’re about to cry, but no tears come. You’re too dehydrated to summon them. It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been out— It’s fully daylight outside, but you have no idea what time. A second look around the room finds a digital clock sitting on the nightstand, 3:05 glaring back at you in red.

There’s a knock on the door, and it pushes open. The man who walks in is handsome, smiling at you so beautifully that your automatic response is to try and smile back, although you feel that it’s flimsy, unsure. There’s no chance that this man is here to help you, but you at least hope he’s not here to hurt you either.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks. His voice is as pleasant as his face is, smooth and cheerful, although it makes you wary about him on principle. “You hungry?”

You shake your head. It’s not true, but you can’t trust that there wouldn’t be drugs in anything they give you.

“Well, come on downstairs, hm? Get some water at least. Maybe a tea?”

Your stomach churns. “I might be sick,” you manage to squeak out. He quickly ushers you out into the hall and into a bathroom. You don’t make it to the toilet, but you do manage to make it to the sink. If you had a little more fire in you, you might have tried to vomit bile onto the pretty man’s shoes, but it’s hard to shake the instinct to be good, not to make any trouble, to hope that they’ll just let you go. You’re not even sure what they want. You have no family to ransom, you don’t have any money to speak of, you’re just a fat little ex-nanny still paying off an English Literature degree from a second-rate college.

You turn on the sink to wash away the sick, and rinse your mouth out. Your hands start shaking when you realize your toothbrush is sitting in the holder next to the sink, like it belongs there. Your makeup bag is sitting on the counter too, and when you look down, you realize you’re standing on your own bathmat, taken from your home and arranged here, as if effects from your own house are supposed to make you feel comfortable. You look at your reflection in the mirror, and then at the man still standing in the doorway, his brown eyes all concern, as if he wasn’t party to a fucking nightmare.

You straighten up, gripping the counter to steady yourself. “What the hell is this?” you ask, trying to inject some authority into your quaking voice. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“I’m Gaz. Nice to meet you. Johnny had lots of nice things to say about you.”

So that hadn’t been a dream either. You look around the room desperately, looking for anything that could possibly be used as a weapon, but Gaz seems to know exactly what you’re doing, and he steps into your space quickly to grab your hands.

“None of that. Come on. You’ll feel better after a tea, yeah? Then you can get ready to meet the captain.”

He leads you downstairs. Questions spin around your head, but you’re not sure if it’s worth asking. Gaz only bothered to respond to one of the three you’ve asked so far, and it wasn’t the one that you were most interested in an answer to. So you stay quiet instead, taking in the layout of the big room. A front door and a back door, and windows that look out onto a forest on one side of the property, and more forest on the other side, beyond a large cleared space with a neat garden and a few fruit trees. There’s a second building that you can just see the corner of from the kitchen window, more likely a garage than a neighbour.

Gaz backs you up against the counter and leans down slightly, his hands gripping your thighs. You panic, the touch surprising you, and slap him across the face. The sharp sound makes you freeze, like it wasn’t you that had done it. He takes advantage of your surprise to shove you up onto the counter and grab both your hands with one of his, all the friendliness draining our of his eyes in an instant as he points a scolding finger at you. You feel like you’ve done something naughty that you’re not fully aware of the implications of yet, a badly trained dog or a child. “I’m going to let that one slide, because I understand that this is a big change for you. But you’re not going to like what happens if you try that again, understood?”

You nod quickly, your own eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry,” you say, the instinct for appeasement rearing it’s skittish little head.

And then the smile returns, as pretty as before, storm clouds blowing away as though they’d never been there to begin with. “It’s alright, doll. Just don’t do it again. And definitely don’t try that attitude on with the captain.” He taps the pointing finger against your nose playfully, and lets your hands drop back into your lap.

The rules seem simple enough. Be good and sweet, and get friendly faces in return, to a degree. No matter how cooperative you are, you doubt they’re going to let you go home. Fighting back means consequences, and you’re not sure how far those consequences will extend. If you’re too much trouble, it’s not a stretch to imagine that they’ll just kill you outright and try again with a meeker woman. You don’t yet know if death would be the more preferable outcome.

You pull your sweater down over your thighs. The black zip-up hoodie isn’t yours (the word Riley is stitched onto the front of it), but it’s big, and even though it smells faintly of cigarettes, it affords you at least a little modesty and comfort, more than the tank top and the sleep-shorts you’re wearing underneath do. Riley must be the third man. Was he the captain? Or was there a fourth one somewhere?

Johnny comes through the door carrying your suitcases, and he grins widely when he sees you, the charming, boyish one that you’d thought was handsome before. It’s only unnerving now. “Didja have a good sleep, bonnie?”

“You drugged me,” you accuse.

“Weel, of course. You were no’ goan ta come all peaceable, and LT wouldna be patient if ye were cryin’ the whole way here.” He trots upstairs, and you can hear him drop the bags with a thump, before he’s clattering back down the steps and leaning against the counter next to you. “How’d’ye like yer new home, bonnie? S’a nice place, aye? Better than tha’ little shoebox back in the city.”

“I like my apartment,” you protest.

“Psh, ye’d say tha’. Puttin’ on a brave face since yer such a good girl. But it wasna verra safe, was it? No’ a single neighbour paid us any mind while we were loadin’ up yer things. No’ a good place for a single girl, aye?” He reaches out and puts a big hand on your knee, squeezing lightly. “Now ye’ll be taken care of, like ye should be.”

“I don’t want to be taken care of.”

“Nonsense. Ye’ll be glad, once ye get used to things. Already looks real homey in here, don’t ye think?” He gestures at the living room.

You twist to look, and your stomach sinks. Your throw pillows are on the couch, one of the afghans you crocheted hanging over the back of it. You recognize the titles of your books on the shelves. These men were nothing if not thorough, surgically removing your entire life and transplanting it to this house in the woods, with it’s wood panel walls and big, overstuffed leather couches.

He continues blithely, like he’s not delivering some of the most horrifying news you’ve ever heard. “Most of your furniture’s in the garage, ye can sort tha’ out with Price, aye? But we brought all yer clothes and decorations and whatnot in. Figure ye should wear tha’ pretty black sundress, an’ those long stockin’s with the clippy belt, ye ken the one? Cap’ll like those.”

They’d been through all your things. If you had anything left to throw up, you might’ve again. Gaz sets a glass of water on the counter next to you. “How d’you take your tea, doll?”

“Milk, two sugars,” Johnny answers for you. “Our sweet lass has a sweet tooth, aye?”

“How do you know that?” You can hear the quiver in your voice, and it doesn’t slip by either of them.

“Come oan, hen, ye ken I didna jus’ pick ye off the street. Did my research. Wouldna pick just anyone for the captain.”

“When he said he’d found the perfect girl, we didn’t believe him at first,” Gaz says, leaning against the counter on the other side of the kitchen while the tea steeps. “But Ghost and I knew he was right, soon as we saw you.” He nods at the glass. “Drink your water. You haven’t had anything since last night.”

“Is it drugged?” you ask flatly.

“No, want ye awake for when Price gets here. Yer a real cute thing asleep, but we want him ta hear yer pretty voice and see that smile, aye?” Johnny reaches past you and picks up the glass of water, taking a big swig to demonstrate it’s harmlessness.

You take a careful sip when he hands it back to you, and then another, resisting the urge to just gulp the whole thing down. The door opens again, and the biggest man you’ve seen in your life walks in, wearing a black t-shirt and a mask with the jaw of a skull printed on it, pulled up over the lower half of his face. He looks at you dispassionately, and then at Gaz and Johnny. “What the ‘ell have you two muppets been sayin’ to the poor thing?” he asks, his voice rumbling like an avalanche. “She looks like she’s gonna faint.”

“Figure she’s just peaky,” Gaz says defensively. “I’m making her tea.”

The big guy swats Johnny’s hand away from your knee impatiently, and cages you in against the counter, one huge arm on either side of you. “How’re you feelin’ bird? Be honest.”

“Terrified,” you admit.

He chuckles. “Sensible, considerin’. But you don’t need to worry, olright? No one’s gonna hurt you, so long as you’re good. And you want to be good, don’t you, bird?”

You nod. You’d thought Gaz and Johnny were big, but this one’s huge, broad and tall and even scarier. It’s clear why they started off introducing themselves to you in the order they did. If this man had been the first thing you’d seen after waking up you probably would have gone into hysterics.

“Use your words, pet.”

“I want to be good,” you say obediently, because you don’t see any other options, at least for the moment.

“Good girl,” he says, and there’s the slightest hint of a smile in his dark eyes.

Somehow, this is the most comforting thing that you’ve experienced all day. You won’t be hurt if you’re good, and you are being good.

He pushes back from the counter slightly, giving you more space, takes the mug of tea from Gaz, and hands it off to you. “Small sips,” he instructs. “And maybe a biscuit, if you think you can keep it down.”

“Are you the captain?” you ask nervously, gripping the mug with two hands.

“Hm? No. ‘e’s still about an hour out. I’m Simon. Ghost to these two.” He fishes an open package of biscuits out of the cupboard and sets them next to you. “Once you finish your tea, we’ll get you ready. Want to make a good first impression, right bird?”

“Not really,” you admit. “I’d like to go home.”

He laughs, at least finding your honesty amusing. “That won’t be ‘appenin’. If Price dun’t want you, I’ll keep you myself. But I’ll tell you right now, you’ll like Price better. If you’re good for him, he’ll be real good to you, understood?”

You bite your tongue. It won’t do you any good to point out that a man that would accept a person as a gift is probably not capable of being good to anyone. Good is subjective, and the three men in front of you are lunatics. Their captain probably has the slightest bit stronger a grasp on his sanity, or a consistent moral code, if not a particularly righteous one. So you just keep your mouth shut, and drink your tea, and eat two chocolate digestives while Gaz and Johnny start collecting things to make dinner.

As soon as you set your empty mug to the side Ghost pops you down from the counter and ushers you upstairs with a big hand placed a little too low on your back. He tells you what to wear (down to the lingerie), but blessedly doesn’t insist on watching you get dressed. He does sit on the edge of the tub and watch you put on makeup, however, requesting red lipstick and winged eyeliner. Your hands are still a little shaky, but you manage to do as he asks. His eyes smile at you just a little when you’re obedient. You feel pathetic for not making a fuss, but you’re not sure what you can possibly do, except something stupid that will make them angry enough to hurt you.

He helps you into a pair of strappy red heels that had been languishing in the back of your closet before they dug everything out, and straightens the seam of your stockings, running his big hands up your calves. It’s like you’re a doll, dressed just how he wants, something to look pretty and say less than nothing, a gift for some other man you’ve never met to keep on a shelf.

Or worse, to play with.

You hear Johnny and Gaz greet someone downstairs, their voices loud and excited, and your heart skips nervously.

Ghost rises to his feet, smiling so big you can see it even with the mask. “Wait right here, pet,” he says firmly, leaving you sitting on the edge of the bed while he goes off to greet his captain. “Want to introduce you proper.”

So you sit, and you wait, shaking and nervous, for what feels like eternity, until you hear Simon’s surprisingly light footfalls on the stairs again. He offers you a hand, and hoists you over his shoulder as soon as you’re on your feet, carrying you down into the living room.

“We all pitched in,” Gaz says, as casually as if he meant throwing in five dollars for a card. “But she was Soap’s idea.”

“Picked ‘er out special, Cap,” Johnny says. “She’s perfect for ye.”

“She?” an unfamiliar voice asks. “Don’t tell me you got me a dog.”

“Better than that, skipper.” Ghost laughs as he circles around the couch, and drops you carefully into the man’s lap, stepping into line with the other two. “We got you a wife.”

I've been low-key thinking about this concept since I read ohbo-ohno's Don't Leave Me Locked in Your Heart a while back (If you haven't read and you like a good dark fic, you should click that link, you may enjoy it). I think getting someone a person as a gift, or being given as a gift, rather, is a fun fucked up fantasy to explore. I'm not entirely sure where I'll take this but I promise to put in content warnings. Let me know if I miss something, I don't want anyone to be surprised by what they find!

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

#cod mw fanfiction #cave writing #John Price x Reader #x reader #dark fic #Price please keep your dogs on leashes they are terrorizing women #The boys missed the real retirement party because they got emergency deployed and they've been trying to reschedule all year long #Good thing they've got such a good gift to make up for it #The homies in discord agree: These guys are unsettling

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