#141 and a goth reader

[porkcutletbowl44]

Gothic muse

John Price x F!reader

(I'm turning the goth gf into a series not sorry) just fluff for Halloween!!!

༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･𓃠🪦

Price thinks he's starting to get too old to understand the younger generations, not particularly liking the new music going on mainstream, new styles and sayings that go straight over his head. As long as he can keep up with the technology, everything is fine and there's no issues (no matter how badly it pisses him off when Apple comes out with a new phone every month for no reason).

Price felt that the music got worse and worse as the newer generations appeared. It was just... Noise. There was no rhythm, no actual beat. It was just someone wailing into a microphone with a bunch of random noise in the background. Not to mention the fashion trends... Dear lord. He thought back to his youth when people dressed like real people and not like this. He never made a fuss over it; that person has their own life and choices, could do whatever they wanted. It didn't mean he had to understand why the fuck this random kid was walking around in basketball shorts in freezing weather. 

But who is he kidding? He's just starting to sound like a grumpy old man. Though, it doesn't help that he is growing into a grumpy old man.

Price groaned, feeling his knees and his back crack and ache as he came down a set of stairs. The last mission really did a number on him. He passed by some younger people, dressed in all black and white makeup, bright death hawks and all the works. 

"Bloody kids these days."

He stopped for a moment, realizing he was starting to sound more and more like a old old man, which he was far from. He was still in shape, still in the army, he wasn't that old...

But that didn't stop him from whining about the 'youths'.

"What happened to real music."

But when he sees little ol' you, standing behind a gothic-style taste test stand under a big spooky awning, he stops. You are dressed like the others, makeup, skulls and bat jewelry, flashing customers a happy smile.

Price's eyes scanned the area, pausing on the little stand with the bright gothic decorations. It was different from his normal type in women, but he wasn't complaining.

You looked cute, charming.

The thought put a smile on his face. Price watched for a moment, before deciding to approach the stand, pretending that he wanted to try whatever you were selling.

Price made his way up to the stand, leaning on the counter as he examined you.

You looked far off from 18, which was a but surprising. Most goths were teenagers, or in their early 20s. It was rare to see one who is in her more mature adulthood stage in life. 

"So what's all this then?" He almost cringed at the roughness of his voice, sounding a little too hostile.

"I'm promoting my new drink for my good friends' restaurant opening soon, I'm a learning bartender and I want to get feedback." You smiled nervously, being polite and understanding.

Price's rough demeanor almost immediately softens at the sweet smile and sweet voice. You were just too damn adorable, he couldn't help it.

"Really? So what's the drink called then?" He asks, looking down at the dark purple drink in front of him, examining it closely. "An' the restaurant? Or is it some kind o' pub?"

Your face lights up, you happily gush about your new mix. "I'm calling it Vampire Blood, it's a blackberry-flavored scotch. And the restaurant across the street— It's the Leaky Coffin. It's got a bar, yes, but I hear the food is delicious!"

It was so adorable how excited and happy you were, it almost made his heart melt.

"Vampire Blood," he repeated with a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Clever name." He pauses, looking at the drink again before looking up at you.

"You make this yourself?" He questions, gesturing to the drink again.

"Yeah! You're welcome to try it, I'd appreciate the feedback!" You happily nodded.

Price gave in, reaching his hand out to take the drink. Bringing it up to his lips, he took a sip. The second the taste hit his tongue, he froze. It was... Actually really good. He took a bigger drink, finishing the rest of the cup.

"Bloody hell this is good." He said, a small smile on his face as he turns the glass on the table, "It's amazing."

"Really? I'm glad you like it," you beamed kindly.

Price gave you a friendly close lipped smile as he watched you practically melt in happiness at his reaction. His heart felt all warm and fuzzy seeing you so happy, it made him forget about the aching in his body.

"'S delicious." He said again. "You 'ave a real talent for this."

"Thank you! I start a week after the restaurant opens, I'll be mixing up more drinks soon," you play with your bat necklace, smiling up at him.

He's never really paid much attention to women who dressed like you or anything like that- normally he was more into the girl next door type, or a more casual, homey style- but you were so adorable and unique. 

Price nods, his eyes locking onto the way you were fidgeting with your necklace.

"Yeah?" He questions, the smile on his face growing a little wider as he continues to watch you, admiring every little thing you did. "When does it open?" He asks, giving you a smile behind his mustache.

"Just a few days! I have some pictures of the interior-" you pull out your phone, tapping on the screen and showing him some pictures. "It's all real gothic architecture, real antiques, a real wine cellar in the basement too-"

The gothic architecture, the antiques, the basement winery- it all looked spectacular. It was unlike any bar or restaurant he'd ever been to.

"That's bloody phenomenal." Price said, looking at the pictures closely. "You're friends have great taste."

He looks up at you again, meeting your eyes with a soft and affectionate smile.

"Thanks! This is a dream come true for us, I'm so excited." You grinned.

Price felt incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon this sweet, kind woman. The fact that you weren't his type at first, but now that he's spoken to you he was already falling for your charm.

"I can tell." He chuckled, still smiling. "What's your name?" He asks suddenly. He should have asked earlier, hell- he should have asked since the moment he walked up to the stand.

You outstretch your hand, politely giving your name. Price smiles as you extend your hand out to him, and he takes it in his own, shaking it gently.

Your name was so pretty.

He wanted to hear it again, but this time in his own voice.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." His hand swallows yours in warmth, "I'm John," he gives you a small smile. "John Price."

"Nice to meet you too, John." You giggle softly. 

Price had never been one to seek out goths or women like you- he had usually stuck with more "normal" people. But something about you was different. The kindness, the politeness, the gentle nature. And the fact that you dressed in black, decorated with skulls and bats didn't make you any less attractive to him. In fact, it made you even more attractive.

He didn't think he'd ever been this attracted to someone before. And god, he could stare into your eyes for hours.

He wanted to ask for your number, or invite you out on a date right then and there, but he held himself back. He didn't want to be too forward and scare you away. But he couldn't stop the thoughts of taking you out on a date, getting to know you. Price cleared his throat, trying to snap himself out of his own thoughts. He had just met you. You weren't his yet. He shouldn't be thinking like this.

He gave you a soft smile, his eyes still gazing into yours.

"Uh— sorry," he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, "what... do you do when your not at your little stand 'ere?"

"Mostly help out with getting the restaurant ready. We have a lot of decorations and painting that has to be done. But on the weekends we attend Sirens Cave." You answered, flashing him a kind smile. 

Price was fascinated by your answers, and the way you spoke. There was something about you that just made him want to pick your brain, and learn everything he could about you.

"Sirens Cave." He repeated, a little familiar with the name. "That's a bar, right?"

"It has a bar, yes, but it's mostly a Goth Club." You giggle.

That made a lot more sense, and it explained the bat and skull attire. Price smiles slightly, amused by the cuteness of your giggle.

"A 'Goth Club'." He repeated softly. "An' you frequent there a lot?"

"Not all the time, I can enjoy the peace and quiet at home. A book, TV show, baking..." You trail off.

Price was practically melting on the inside. You were such a sweetheart.

"You bake?" He questions, his tone almost turning into a cooing.

So you were kind, polite, and you like to read and bake, too?

He was definitely in trouble.

"Yeah, when I was in college I had a little baking business to help with loans." You nodded enthusiastically.

Price’s heart was almost bursting inside his chest. You just kept getting cuter and cuter. Not just that, but you were ambitious and smart.

Bloody hell.

He had never fallen so hard before.

Price couldn't help the little flutter in his chest at the thought of you baking. The fact that you were making money with baking was really impressive. He wanted to know every little thing about you; past, present, future. He would be lying if he said he wasn't already a little obsessed.

"College, huh?" He asks, leaning against the counter. "What'd you study?"

"I did mixology for a little bit, and then I switched over to architecture to help get the building structure what we wanted." You used hand gestures out of excitement, happy to talk about you and your friend's dreams.

He smiled, admiring your excitement. "Architecture." He repeated, nodding. "That's impressive."

Architecture wasn't easy, especially not trying to make a building how you wanted. He could tell how passionate you were about this.

"Did you graduate?" He asks.

"I did! A few years ago,"

You were literally perfect.

"So this little gothic restaurant you're gonna work at- you designed it too, yeah?" He questions, wanting to know everything.

"Most of the design was by me, yes," you answered proudly. 

You had studied architecture, then gone on to design a full restaurant, one that you and your friend were opening soon. He was seriously falling for you. Hard.

"That's incredible." He said, admiring you, maybe even buttering you up in the chances of you saying yes to a date, "Must feel good, seein' your design come alive, yeah?"

"I'm so happy, it's a dream come true!" You couldn't suppress your bright grin, all teeth and eyes crinkling. 

Price was in love. It wasn't even funny. Seeing that bright grin made his heart leap in his chest. If he wasn't falling before, he most definitely was now. He was practically swooning. No one had made him fall for someone this fast. 

"I can tell." He smiles back, that soft, fond smile.

"One of my friends will be the head chef, she does a lot of culinary and her food is delicious! Definitely something I'd recommend to try out- she's trying new dishes for the opening too!" You mentioned. 

Price listened to you enthusiastically rant about your work, your friends, everything. It was the cutest thing imaginable hearing how excited you got talking about everything. He loved the way you'd light up when talking about your new restaurant.

He listens intently as you gushed about your passion, talking about anything and everything about it. It sounded like it would be a good place to eat; good food, good drinks, good atmosphere. He could see you being a very talented bartender, if your little potion is anything to go by.

"You'll be the bartender then?" He questions, raising a brow.

"A week after it opens." You reminded sweetly. 

"Right, a week after it opens." He repeated, a small smile on his face.

He wanted to know if you were single or not. But there's no way someone as perfect as you could be single, you were probably taken...

"Got any... special someone you wanna celebrate it with?" He asks softly.

"No, me and the group might have a celebration together at some point." You shook your head.

He had the chance.

He gave you a small smile, the thought of you being single had him practically dizzy.

"Oh yeah?" He muses, he was calm, but his mind was going crazy with excitement. "When you you think you'll have that celebration?"

"Maybe during the weekend, it's best to not come to run a restaurant hung over," you giggled, tucking hair behind your ear.

The way you smiled and giggled and talked, it sent butterflies through his stomach. This was new; he was normally the one doing the flirting. But you had him swooning. He wanted to just take you in his arms and never let you go.

"Guess that's a good idea." He said, smiling playfully at you. "The weekend then hm?"

"Likely, I'm free the rest of the week." You mentioned casually. 

Price's insides practically melted as you said that. You were free the rest of the week? That meant he had a chance to take you out on a date. A smile spread across his lips, his heart beating a little faster in his chest.

"Are you now?" He teased lightly, raising a brow. "Would you fancy trying your new restaurant on opening day?" He insinuates.

"Oh would I?" You almost squeal in excitement, over joyed at the offer.

It was so cute. You were so cute.

"Yeah," He says, still smiling that big, soft, and fond smile. "Would you? With me?" he adds with a coo in the undertone.

"I'd love too!" You nodded enthusiastically.

You said yes. You said yes to the date. The butterflies in his stomach felt more like fireworks as he looked at your excited face. 

"Great." He affirms, pleased, "I'll pick ya up then yeah?"

"Yeah! Here's my number-" you pull a card over, scribbling on it and handing it to him, the light glints on your nail polish spider web design

He flipped the card over, looking at the number. He was committing it to memory. He looked back up at you, smiling.

"I'll make sure to use it." He said, slipping the card into his pocket.

"See you then, John." You smile all giddy and excited. 

No one had made him smile this much in a while, he was normally the one doing the swooning. Your smile and the way you giggled made his heart flutter like crazy.

"I'll see you then, love."

You were so...different. You knew what you wanted. You knew your passion and executed it.

It was impressive, really. Most people just work with what they have, take what's dealt to them. But you? You went beyond. You decided to make a dream a reality, and by the look of things, it would be a success. You were determined and hardworking and ambitious, and you went after your dream no matter what.

Everything about you was different from women Price was used to. You were a go getter, a dream chaser. You had ambition, creativity, a spark.

But you were also kind, and sweet, and soft.

You liked history, that much was given. You had a interest in gothic architecture and strived to keep it alive.

And that mysterious aura—

Price would admit it; when he first walked up to your booth he had some prejudices. But you proved him wrong. He was completely fascinated by you. He wanted to learn everything about you.

He could tell you had secrets, things hidden beneath that sweet appearance. He was very interested to see how many secrets you had, and what they were.

He liked that about you; the air of mystery.

And the fact that you were just generally so attractive.

When opening day arrives, you are waiting outside the restaurant. You've went a little easy on the gathering make up, allowing John to see more of your natural features for the date.

Price pulled up to the restaurant, parking his car to the side. When he stepped out, he felt his jaw drop. You looked absolutely beautiful. The dress was simple but elegant, and your jewelry completed the look.

You were gorgeous.

Price just stared at you for a moment, his heart doing somersaults in his chest. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to be able to see you like this. He walked over to you, his smile bright.

"You look stunning, love."

You twirled your dress a little, preening and blushing, "Thank you,"

He gave you a wide, fond smile, admiring the way the dress looked on you.

"Of course." He tilts his head. "Absolutely beautiful."

He offered you his arm. "Should we go in then, love?"

You wrapped your hand around his thick bicep, walking in to the restaurant. The sight is beautiful, people at tables, the smell of wood and rich timbre fills the air, warm lights everywhere to make the atmosphere moody and relaxing.

He was blown away; it was like he had stepped into a whole other world. It was relaxed yet elegant, like the people at the tables. The low lights gave it a moody, romantic feel, and Price couldn't help but think how beautiful it was. And you were responsible for it all.

He was definitely taking you home at the end of the night.

"Hi, table for two," you held up two fingers, smiling at the host.

The host smiled back and nodded, grabbing two menus. She lead you too your booth, setting the menus down for you. The table was near a large window that revealed the beautiful view outside, and the low mood lighting was just bright enough to read the menu. Price sat down in the seat across from you, picking up one of the menus. He scanned the menu, eyes practically going wide upon realizing how good everything sounded. He had a hard time trying to pick what to get.

You picked up your own coffin shaped menu, smiling in recognition.

The food names were odd, and a bit blunt to say the least, it was a complete vampire type of vibe in the building.

Price read through the different meals, eyes widening further as he realized it was all vampire themed. A "Bloody Mary" was a type of pizza, a "Count Garlic" was the appetizers. He was even more impressed with what he was seeing. He looked at the drink menu, and saw "Holy Communion", which was their cocktail list. He was thoroughly enjoying this. It was cool that you had turned the menu names into a theme. He set the menu down, smiling at you.

"This is interesting."

"That was the fun part about this, coming up with funny names." You giggled.

Price's heart skipped a beat as you giggled. It was so cute how  excited you were. You were practically glowing with happiness and pride. He was so gone for you.  He leaned forward on the table, propping his chin up with his hand, smiling at you.

"I love the names." He remarked. "Creative."

"I feel like you would really like the 'Dead Cow'." You inquired playfully

Price grinned, raising his eyebrows in interest. Dead Cow? That was an interesting name for a meal. He leaned back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest.

"The 'Dead Cow', eh?" He hums, "That sounds promising."

He scans the menu, eyes landing on the dish.

'A 311 gram steak; typically cooked rare to sink your fangs into! Paired with roasted potatoes, deadly asparagus, and a fresh dead cow on top! Medium rare is fine... If you ask well-done we will ask you to leave.'

Price almost choked on his spit when he saw the description. It was so blunt, and darkly humorous. He couldn't help but bark out a laugh when he read the last part.

"Oh my god," He said in between his laughter. "This is fantastic."

You laughed with him, turning on the back of the menu.

"There's dessert too, if you'd be interested."

God, everything about this place was amazing.  He glanced back down at the menu, turning to the dessert page. He read through it, his mouth almost watering. They all sounded great. He looked back up at you, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, I'm interested." He chuckled.

"Is it the lava cakes?" You grinned. 

He smiled back at you, impressed. "Yes, it is the lava cakes." He admitted, leaning back in his seat. "'ow'd you know?"

"Lucky guess?" You shrugged, closing your menu when the waitress comes

Price chuckled, shutting his menu as well as the waitress came over. He watched you closely, admiring you as you told her your order. He ordered the Rare Cow, because how could he not? When the waitress left to go put in the order, he looked back to you, resting his chin on his folded hands.

"You did really good with this place."

"I'm so happy it turned out like this," you sighed dreamily. 

You looked so happy, so content. He leaned forward on the table, resting his chin on his hands as he continued to admire you.

"You should be proud o' yourself," he said sincerely. "You did that." He gestured around to the restaurant. "You really did that."

"With help," you added.

It was true that you had gotten help. But most of this was your idea. Your passion. Your creativity. Your hard work and determination. It was all you. 

"Still." He said, his tone gentle and earnest. "It's all you, love."

"Ah! You're here!" A woman squeals, walking over with her arm outstretched for a hug to you.

You gladly accepted, hugging her tight. "The day has finally come!" You said into her neck. 

Obviously a friend of yours.

"I know," the women smiled, pulling back from the hug. "We did it!"

"Oh, sorry—this is John, my...date for tonight." You introduced sheepishly, "And this is Charlotte, the owner of the restaurant."

He smiled, he was getting bits and pieces of your life and friendships. He held his hand out to shake hers.

"Pleasure to meet you, Charlotte." He said, his tone polite.

Charlotte smiled, shaking his hand. "The pleasure is all mine." She said cheerfully, then she gave you a wide grin, wiggling her eyebrows. "You kept this one a secret."

You sputter, trying to keep her voice down, "I did not!"

"You so did!" She teased. She turned her attention to Price. "This girl has never brought a date around us before."

You slap at her shoulder, mumbling something under your breath. Price grinned, watching you get a bit flustered as Charlotte teased you. So, you talked about him. That made him feel warm. Charlotte laughed, letting go of his hand.

"You never told me he was HOT!" She said cheerfully.

"Charlotte!" You whined.

Charlotte shrugged innocently. "What? He is!" She exclaims. 

"Go do your business stuff," you shooed, completely mortified and flustered.

He had his mouth covered with his hand, his shoulders shaking from how hard he was holding it in. Charlotte just laughed, clapping  you on the shoulder.

"Alright, alright, I'll leave you two be." She said with fake disappointment. "I'll have a bottle of wine taken to you guys, on the house." She winks.

"Thanks, now- get, go, shoo," you grumbled, completely embarrassed. 

Charlotte just smiled widely, throwing her hands up in surrender. "Fine, I'll leave you two, lovebirds alone." She teased.

You tucked your hair back, clearing your throat. "Sorry...she gets very loud when she's happy,"

Price finally let out the laugh he had been holding in. He leaned back in his seat, his face absolutely shining with amusement. Charlotte seemed nice. He smiled at you, his heart melting at the way you were.

"It's fine, love."

"I think she's great, actually." He chuckled.

Charlotte was just a little nosy, but it was all in good fun. Besides, he wanted to get to know more about you and your life.

"'ow do y'know 'er?" He asked curiously.

"College. We had a couple classes together, met our other friends and boom, we had a little goth friend group." You smiled wide at the memory.

It was sweet how all of your goth friends stuck together from college. He couldn't really connect with that; he never really made friends in the military. He had colleagues he tolerated, and that was about it besides his team. But you, you had friends you loved and who loved you. It was sweet.

"So...is Goth just the style?"

You shook your head politely, folding your hands on the table. "It's a subculture, the music genre is the classification."

A waitress comes up, dropping off a bottle of wine, "From the owner."

He loved the way you knew so much about this. He knew very little about the subculture, but he wanted to know as much as he could. He could listen to you talk about this all night.

"What genre is it exactly?" He asked, his tone curious and eager to learn more.

You proceed to kindly explain as you poured yourself some wine. The genre of goth has branching styles; there were many. Dark wave, cyber, steam punk, regular old punk goth, metal goth, the goth traditions and having a open mind. He learned about the music, about the traditions, the aesthetics, and everything he could about it. He loved hearing you talk about it. You were so knowledgeable and excited as you spoke. The waitress drops off your orders as you explain, giving her a kind nod of appreciation.

"Damn." He said when you finally finished explaining. "You're a scholar."

"It's just the basics for those who first get into it," you brush off politely. 

Price smiled, finding it cute how modest you were. The basics, yeah right. He bet you could tell people a lot more than just the basics.

"Hm, maybe I should start listening to goth music." He muses, half joking and half serious.

"Maybe you might find something you like," you comment, taking a sip of your wine.

He definitely found something he liked- you. The food on the table looks fantastic, it smells amazing, everything is going perfectly.

"I'm sure I will."

Price finished his first glass, setting it down on the table. The alcohol instantly warmed his body, relaxing him. He looked at all the different food on the table, not sure where to start.

"Everythin' looks great."

"Taste good too," you agree, cutting off another piece of chicken parmesan. 

Price took a bite of his steak. Perfectly cooked. Bloody, but not too bloody, the flavor burst into his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction.

"Holy..." He muttered between bites. "It's delicious."

"So John, what do you do for work?" You grabbed your wine glass, looking over at him with a curious expression.

He took time considering the question. He couldn't tell you everything, of course. But he didn't want to lie to you either.

"I work in private military." He settled on saying.

"Ohhh, that's cool!" You nodded along, interested in the new direction the conversation was going. 

Price smiled. Thank god you didn't ask more. Most people would. They'd ask what kind of private military, what missions he's been on, what his job was specifically. But you didn't ask, you just accepted that and moved on. He was very grateful for that. It was the downside of his job. He was pretty much forced to lie to people, even his loved ones.

"Yeah." He continued, "it's an interesting job."

"So I take it you're off for the time being?" You asked. 

Price smiled again. You really didn't ask probing questions, did you? It was a much better change of pace then what he was used too. Most people wanted all the info, wanted to know everything. It was refreshing that you just accepted what he said without being pushy.

"I am." He replied.

Price couldn't believe it. He wasn't one to believe in luck, but damn, he was feeling lucky. This date really was perfect. The restaurant was amazing, the food was so good, and the company was absolutely out of this world. Talking to you was so easy, he found himself constantly smiling, laughing, and just having a great time.

He never wanted this night to end.

Price insist for you to wear his jacket before you went out into the chilly London night air, that dress wouldn't do much to keep you warm.

You tried to refuse, saying you were fine and that you didn't need it. But he was persistent, and honestly, the way you looked in his jacket was something he couldn't resist.

"Please." He insisted, slipping his jacket around your shoulders, "you'll freeze."

You smiled sheepishly, tugging it around your shoulders as his lingering warmth soothed your skin.

"You smell good," you remarked softly as you looped your arm with his.

He made a mental note to wear that cologne more often. He kept your arm tucked close to his, walking close so you could absorb more of his warmth.

"Yeah?" He asked, looking down at you. "What's it like?"

"I can't really place it, but it's nice." You replied all bashful and giddy. 

His jacket was much too big for you, but you looked great in it.

You were holding his arm with both of your hands, like couples do. He smiled down at you, his eyes absolutely lighting up with joy. No one's ever held onto his arm like that before. None of his ex's, none of his flings.

It was something special that only you did.

Everything was just perfect right now. The weather, the night air, the city lights. And most of all, you.

He loved that, he loved the feeling of being wanted. Being needed. To be touched and held close by someone he wanted so bad. He moved his other hand to cover your hands, his fingers running over yours.

Price slowed to a stop as you reached the parking lot, his heart starting to race a bit. You had an entire parking lot to yourselves. No one to bother you, no one to interrupt. He looked down at you, staring into your eyes. He didn't know if it was appropriate to kiss you right now.

He didn't know where things stood between you two now that he thinks about it.  Did you want him to walk you to your front door? Did you want him to drive you home? This was the moment where decisions had to be made.

"I...had a lot of fun, thank you for tonight," You smiled nervously, teeth shining past your lipstick.

Price couldn't take his eyes off of you. The way the street lights hit you, the way the air blew your hair, everything about you in this moment was just perfect.

"Me too." He replied, his fingers moving to rest against your chin, tilting your head upwards to look him in the eyes.

He loved how those big, shiny eyes of yours looked when you smiled.

"Do you want me to walk you 'ome?"

Where was your head at? Is it okay to pursue?

"I don't live too far, and you drove all the way out here..." You declined politely. 

He could see the want in your eyes as you denied him. It was driving him insane. He knew he should let you go, walk you to the door, like a proper date should.

He needed more time with you.

"Could I see you again?" You both asked in unison, the action makes you snort and truly laugh. 

Price was a little startled, not expecting you to ask the same exact question. But the awkwardness was quickly brushed off as the two of you started laughing. His heart was racing from that. You wanted to see him again. His smile grew wider, his hand falling from your chin to your hip, pulling you in.

"Yeah." He agreed, breathlessly. "Yeah, 'course."

"I would like to see you again, I mean." You clarified with the last shred of shy tension gone, growing bold. 

"Yeah? You'd like that?" He questioned in a low, soft voice, looking down at you intently.

You nodded wordlessly, smile dropping into something less cheery into... Sly.

"Your jacket...?" You tugged on the collar.

Price's smile shifted into something more darker, more hungry. You wanted a bit more then just a goodbye. He let out a hum, his eyes raking over your body, pausing at how you looked in his jacket.

He absolutely did not want his jacket back.

"I think it looks better on you." He replied.

He slouches, his body pressing against you as his head hovered a few inches above yours.

His heart was racing, all the blood in his body pumping south. You smiled wide, making your eyes crinkle. Your hands cupped his bearded jaw, leaning up and— planting a kiss on his cheek. Price's brain short-circuited when he felt your lips touch his skin, and then immediately rerouted all of his brain function to his core. The feel of your soft, plump lips on his skin drove him nuts.

Pulling back, your blush is across your nose, a giggle bubbling in your throat.

"I was hoping you'd let me keep it... Gives a reason for us to see each other."

His eyes were glued to your lips as he let out a low rumble, practically growling in the back of his throat with a knowing smirk at your actions. You were being cheeky, and your little smile tells him you know it too.

"Call me?" You asked, backing away a few steps.

"I absolutely will." He replied, rougher than usual, almost in a trance. 

"I'll be waiting." You nodded, turning and walking down the street.

Price watched you walk away for a minute, his eyes glued to your frame walking down the street. His mind replayed the feel of your lips on his skin, the heat of your body pressed up against his, the sound of your soft, breathy giggles.

He could see the sway of your hips, the way you looked completely wrapped up in his jacket- your sweet, beautiful, innocent face, turned back to him with the promise of a second date- all drove him insane. He swallowed heavily and pulled his car keys out.

But he made a promise to himself, he was going to take this slow, and not scare you away. But god was that going to be a test of his self-restraint.

....It's a wonder how he didn't notice your fangs, though. 

[agoraphxnics]

goth!fem!reader doing poly!141’s makeup~

it actually wasn’t you who brought up the idea. no, it was the ever curious scot who thought aloud on your lunch date.

“y’know, bonnie, you should do my makeup sometime.”

you blinked. “eh?”

“what, you don’t think i could pull it off?” that sly grin appeared on his face.

“no, i just didn’t expect you to be interested.” heat rose to your cheeks at the thought of him taking interest in your eccentric fashion choices.

“why wouldn’t i?!” his eyes puddled in that puppy dog way he always did when he tried to pull at your heartstrings; of course, it worked. rolling your eyes, you smile at his antics.

“then i’ll make you look like the coolest guy around.”

“i’m ‘ome!” simon called out, stepping into the safety of your cozy abode. a faint response was heard from the master bedroom upstairs, and he shrugged off his boots to see what his little lovebirds were up to. to his surprise, the bed was littered in various products and trinkets, the likes of which simon couldn’t even begin to name. in the center of them were you and johnny. your hands cradled his face as you tugged a black pen-like object across his eyes. simon couldn’t help but snicker at johnny’s pleased expression.

“hey, simon.” you acknowledged, not tearing your eyes away from your project. johnny went to speak, but your spare hand shot up to clasp his lips together. “you talk too animated.”

“our doll is turning you into one, too, eh?” simon asked, electing to sit behind you on the bed. once you finished a pass with the pen, he rested his head on your shoulder.

“he wanted to look pretty,” you cooed, sparing him a kiss to his covered forehead. the giant practically purred, removing his balaclava and nuzzling into your neck.

“that he does, doll.”

your hands continue to paint johnny, turning him into an edgy version of himself that makes you smile.

“honestly…?” you look to simon, who nods in agreement, “you could rock this all the time, baby.”

johnny’s smile reaches his ears as he bounds off to the bathroom, metaphorical tail wagging wildly. “ooo, yes! i could get used to this, bon. i love the little heart you put under me eye!”

all of your boyfriends loved and adored your style and subculture, but johnny was always your biggest cheerleader. he never made you feel different for your interests, always praised them and bought you whatever dark and broody thing you wanted. it’s not to say the others didn’t as well, but johnny just understood you on a level that made your heart simmer with love.

“‘ey.” simon butted your neck. you smiled in understanding. pay attention to me. “make me look pretty, too.”

there was something so endearing about big, mean simon, the boogeyman, the silent assassin, unraveling in your presence to become a whiny, desperate man in need of your affection and praise. he could break you in half at a moment’s notice, and yet here he is, all docile and pathetic on your shoulder.

“oh, simon,” you sighed, pulling away from him. “how can i refuse?”

the next victim to arrive was kyle, who couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of johnny parading around in your jewelry and simon sitting obediently while you drew your eyeliner around his eyes (he grew up with sisters; he knew what those ‘trinkets’ were). “don’t we look braw, kyle?”

“pfft, you look like you’re going to see bring me the horizon,” kyle chuckled.

“that’s what i was going for,” you mutter, transfixed by your new canvas. you and simon opted for a tradgoth style that resembled his skeletal mask. his face was painted ghost white, save for the black lines framing his new ‘skeleton’.

“you should let ‘er do you next,” johnny offered, sauntering over to the taller man to sling a spiked arm around his shoulder. black lips pressed to his cheek and left behind a lip print.

“oh, hell! it’s so sticky!” kyle grumbled, rubbing the spot with his now-stained fingers.

“johnny, i told you to quit licking your lips,” you admonished, finishing up simon’s left eye.

“it’s jus’ too weird, bon! it’s like jam on your lips.”

kyle went to the bed and plucked the tube of liquid lipstick. maleficent, the bottom label read. how apt. he twisted the cap and pursed his lips, applying the lipstick with the doe foot applicator. smacking his lips, he scoffed. “it’s not that bad, johnny.”

upon turning around, the latter began laughing, shaking his head. “go look at yourself, dafty.”

“what?” kyle furrowed his brow, walking into the bathroom. his lips were black, yes, but so was the skin surrounding them. and his philtrum. and somehow the tip of his chin?

“fuck me.”

“i hope this is easy to remove, bon, ‘cause it’s all over ‘im.”

“kyle!” you snapped, looking at his painted face. as loathe he was to admit it, he was just as ornery as johnny. you chuffed, shaking your head. “i’ll fix you in a moment. let me finish with si first.”

though he was sheepish, kyle was glad you’d be playing with him next. the two watched as you painted simon with grace, biting your lip in intense focus. the little details you put into making him look awesome, albeit for a silly little moment, made them swell with pride. they couldn’t have chosen a better partner. one so attentive to give them each a little piece of your beauty on their skins. with one last stroke (and a small black heart), simon’s was completed. he admired it in the mirror, nodding in approval. if he liked the heart, he didn’t say so (he absolutely did).

“now, let’s fix your lips, handsome.” kyle gushed at the pet name and took simon’s old place on the bed. dipping a q-tip in makeup remover, you rubbed at his face with determined fervor.

“can’t you go a little softer, luvie?”

“no can do. shit’s long lasting.”

thankfully, it was over quickly, but your eyes caught his and glossed over. it was time for the ‘johnny’ look. “can i give you some eyeshadow?”

while kyle was an expert on johnny denial, he couldn’t say the same for you. with a sigh, he nodded, smiling. “go for it. but i better look amazing, yeah?”

you bounced with glee. taking a square brush to his face, you packed on black pigment and used a second brush to feather it out. simple, yet effective. “all done,” you beamed.

the mirror showed kyle a look he’d never wear in any other context than for your pure enjoyment. judging by your happy expressions (and compliments of how sexy he looked), he might have to wear it again for you.

as if in cue, the final piece to your heart waltzed into the room, a deep laugh filling the air at the sight of his lovers. “what’re you all doing? playin’ dress up?”

“oh, i can get you all outfits, too,” you thought aloud, delighted by the idea john put into your head. “you all would look so good with spiked chokers.”

“don’t we look great, cap?” johnny smiled.

“our princess is quite the artist,” john agreed, stalking over to you and kissing your lips. “so talented.”

“would you want to join in?” you asked. you figured he wouldn’t care about makeup, and he probably didn’t, but just like the others, he got so soft for you.

“i’d love nothing more.”

yes i just made up the head canon that gaz has sisters just so he could know what eyeliner is, what of it?

also lmk if i used ‘braw’ correctly k bye—

[bunnyandbowie]

Message:

So I've recently been getting into oddities, I got two little butterfly wings and a bone in little jars to start my collection and one of my teeth, weird I know, but i had depression growing up , didn't care for my teeth and dental care is fucking expensive so when one of my teeth inevitably fell out (and I had finished crying) I saved It and cleaned it and it now lives on my shelf. But this made me think about the cod characters and their little goth gf

Fic:

Part 2 of little goth gf series, cod characters and their gf's oddities.

Characters:

Price, Gaz, soap, ghost, konig, horangi, ferah, Alejandro, roach, Keegan.

Tw: no smut but taxidermy is featured heavily, closeted ferah, konig hunting his own food and cleaning animal bones and fur, Keegan and blood jewellery and ghost stealing from the dead and taking a skull from someone he killed and implied stalking.

Price🥃- price is honestly such a daddy let's be honest, I genuinely think he'd not be too fazed due to his line of work, its not like he's not seen bones before, but he'd maybe be a teeny bit concerned about his little ones fascination with death, 'yes dove the little butterfly is beautiful but also why do you want to taxidermy the cat when it eventually dies?', he's so used to death but his little angel is so pure in his eyes so he worries from time to time but ultimately it makes her happy so he supposes it's not a bad thing. I do think he'd let her have her own space in the house for them , probably build her custom shelves for them himself. his angel doesn't gotta worry about anything just gotta sit on his lap whilst he sips his whiskey listening to her ramblings all about the different ones she wants to collect.

Gaz 🪽- Gaz is honestly an angel (a sexy, charming, beautiful little angel) he'd probably have known his love a long time, maybe gone to school with her or something along those lines so I don't think he'd be grossed out by these things, I think he'd just except his lover is a little weird but he knew that from the beginning, that's how they became friends never mind lovers. I do think he'd go with his girl to all the little gothic shops and fairs, 'yeah love that one's good, can we get a frog? I think this one looks cool'. He wouldn't be obsessed with it like his love but he wouldn't mind it, I think he'd just be neutral about it, I do also think he'd get her custom ones for valentine's day, like how people have those mice in different situations and outfits, he'd get her one holding her favourite dried flowers and an engraved wooden base with their anniversary on.

Soap 🧼- I love this big baby but he'd be so fucking whiny about it, 'hen wha the fuck is tha?..I can see it's bones!'. He'd definitely tell the team and absolutely would make jokes about it but he's mad for his little bonnie so this ain't gonna make him quit his love for her , fuck no. I think he'd go to antique shops with his lass but absolutely would complain about how he feels watched from all the beady little eyes on him, and please if she names any of her little creatures he'd take the mick 'aye! Stop naming m like their our wee kids!'.

Alejandro 🫀- honestly I think Alejandro wouldn't mind, his amor has his heart, you want the house to look like Halloween all year round so be it . his abuela taught him to respect the dead so I think he'd talk in his head to the little creatures, he has to move one to get something of the shelf, 'lo siento amiguito' (sorry little friend) , god forbid he breaks a jar ones in, not only would he be so apologetic to his little luna (moon) but to the little creature he disturbed, he'd fix it himself within an hour and get them a better jar, i think he'd even leave his favourite creatures offerings during the day of the dead.

Farah🌛- I think Farah would be Hiding her relationship with her sol ( sun) , her girl is so soft and bubbly but has this dark little look to her, but because of her culture and high risk job Farah keeps the relationship private to protect her girl. But I think there'd be signs, she'd buy her Bella (beautiful) matching taxidermy jewelry, I think some kind of bones or teeth, she loves her girl so much, she wants to show she cares by wearing her weird little interest.

Roach🪳- he'd absolutely scavenge his butterfly trinkets, I'm talking mudlarking, I'm talking on missions sees an old coin in a lake, his now, he's so sneaky and quick, the team are absolutely so confused why his pockets are so heavy and jingle as he walks but it all makes sense when they eventually meet his love at their house and it's covered in small little trinkets and also he absolutely buys her a pinned roach.

Horangi 🍻- I fully believe his sweetheart is a curvy girl, and he's obsessed, he buys her lingerie with spiderwebs in the mesh and makes her model it, loves seeing the way her body curves and moves as she walks, and he wears matching rings with her.

Now onto the guys that made my little vampire heart go wild with this idea

Konig 🌩️- firm believer that konig sees her one day and is just obsessed immediately, I think he'd live more rural in the mountains and would bring little trinkets he finds, almost worshiping his spatz (sparrow) like how people worship different god's by leaving offerings. I think he'd hunt his food often so he'd give schatz the bones and fur, he'd clean them too and would use the fur to make her things to add to her collection, anything to show he can provide for her. I think she'd be the small towns little witch, at least that's what people say, I think she's just a regular girl who loves cottages and creepy stuff but small villages talk, and konig is hooked immediately.

Keegan 🦷- Keegan isn't bothered, he'll he'd make it you, go into the woods and hunt for bones and dead bugs to preserve for you. I think he'd go to all the fairs and shops and I think he'd even get some himself for the animals he likes, not many but I definitely think he'd have a crow or something. my first thought with Keegan is on their anniversary he'd order his darling blood jewelry made from his own blood, I don't think he'd even think to much into it, the price doesn't matter and blood doesn't bother him, anything for his woman.

Ghost 💀- we all know that ghost is closed off and doesn't love easily so you can imagine when he does love he falls hard, in walks in this little thing and he's fucking hooked. He doesn't care how morally wrong it is, she's his, the second he sees her, just a little thing, he's gotta protect her, provide for her. Some how he worms his way into her life (definitely a meer coincidence and I'm sure no stalking involved at all) and he's not going no where. I think he'd buy her anything she wanted, he doesn't care about the price and I think he'd have some... unethical ways to get her certain oddities let's say, he kills an enemy and notices he has a prosthetic eye or something , well his little bunny would love that for her shelf, he can clean bones no problem, and if she asks where he got a human skull because they're so expensive and rare well 'got em from an antique shop' thats all she needs to know.

[river-that-whore]

Alrighty, my post blew up (at least by my standards) overnight about hippie wife of Ghost, I'm doing a part 2-

Soap with a goth/emo girl. More specifically, trad/romantic goth. Long black dresses, silver jewelry that hangs low and jingles with the slightest movement, and dark, dramatic makeup.

There would definitely be many dead animals/bones around their house, along with military memorabilia decorating the walls. Soap was no good when it came to interior design, so he simply let her work. And she did, somehow managing to integrate their styles perfectly

Most people, from children to even Soap when he first met her, were scared of this girl. She's the epitome of black cat, graceful and dangerous appearing. But underneath the looks, it's the sarcastic, dry humor that Soap fell in love with. It's the loud, chaotic, not so bright golden retriever who met his match. And it appeared in the form of a girl with a dark mystique and a cynical, sharp wit.

When Soap first introduced his girl to the others, it was at a small function for 141 only. There were few people, just Laswell with her wife, Ghost with his bird, Gaz, and Price. Of course Soaps girl went all out, in a velvet black dress with silver necklaces and chunky black heels. Though she went a little softer with her makeup, she certainly didn't look like a normie.

While everyone was shocked, Laswell and her wife greeted the other couple like nothing was out of the ordinary. Next was Simon's girlfriend, who quickly made friends with the other woman and happily chatted, swapping jokes and getting along like old friends. Eventually, everyone else got around to greeting the girl with an awkward smile

When there was a free moment, Price awkwardly pulled Soap aside and muttered

"Aye, son. Does your bird know about......" Though he didn't say it, Soap could see his eyes lingering on his birds hair, the teased up strands sticking up and intentionally messy

"Yes, cap'n" he replied with a laugh "She knows"

"Oh....." Was all Price could think of "Ok"

Anyways, the brain worms continue to clog my mind. Lmk if I should make this a series, bc I love writing these sm

(she also canonically is besties with Ghosts wife, can't convince me otherwise)

[beloveds-embrace]

Idk why but i feel like nikolai would absolutely love a goth girlfriend. Maybe a trad goth? He’d probably let you sit on his chest, his hands on hour thighs, and do makeup for him too.

[cherrybomblust]

♱ Cherrybomblust ♱

╰┈➤ Nia ・19 ・ she/her ・goth/catlover

~I used to run a blog about a year ago, deleted it but missed it so I’m back! Please be patient with me~

✧･ﾟ ・ multifandon ・ Simon Riley ♱ Cod ・

: *✧ ・ MDNI ~ NSFW

✧･ﾟ・ 🚧 all masterlists under construction 🚧

: *✧ ・please do not repost my work! <3

[necrobunni]

he came out the mask for them?

Task Force 141 x Reader (Ghost's Partner)

Summary: Ghost invites the team over to meet his partner. They expect grim. They get a goth haven and a soft, shirtless Simon and suddenly nothing makes sense anymore.

(long so under keep reading)

Group Chat: “The Lads”

Ghost:

come over

tonight

drinks and dinner at mine

time you met my partner

Soap:

wait what partner??

Gaz:

you’ve been dating someone????

Price:

this is a trap isn’t it

Ghost:

no trap

just show up

you’ll get it when you see

___

You open the front door to the sound of the team’s muffled surprise. Their footsteps fill your hallway as they step inside the apartment — yours, all yours — every corner drenched in deep, dark velvets, flickering candlelight, and subtle gold accents. A haven wrapped in shadows with the scent of sandalwood hanging thick.

You’re calm but sharp: locs loosely tied back, ink curling over your arms, rings catching the candlelight on your fingers, and gold jewelry glinting just so. Black clothes, effortless, a resting bitch face that tells people “don’t mess with me” but eyes that betray your warmth. You smile at them warmly and walk back towards Simon.

From the living room they can see Simon is already there. No mask. No armor. Just him, in soft grey sweatpants, chest bare, muscles relaxed and unguarded. His dimples flash when he smiles, that easy, teasing smile reserved just for you.

He’s leaning back against the couch, fingers lazily tracing patterns over your hand — and you’re perched on his lap, slipping seamlessly into that easy domestic intimacy.

Soap, Gaz, and Price stand frozen at the entrance, blinking in disbelief.

Simon looks up and grins wide. “About time you guys met them.” His voice is low and confident, that quiet authority that never needed a mask.

You catch his eye, and your lips twitch into a smile as he shifts, fingers briefly slipping beneath your shirt, tracing the curve of your ribs.

“So, yeah,” Simon says, eyes glinting as he leans closer, “they own the place. I just crash here.”

The team’s eyes dart everywhere. Soap can’t stop staring at the gold rings circling your fingers. Gaz’s mouth is slightly open, clearly distracted by Simon’s bare chest and the way his sweatpants hang low. Price clears his throat but his gaze is shamelessly fixed on the subtle bulge Simon’s hand is shielding.

“So you’re saying…” Soap finally blurts, voice cracking a little, “this is... home?”

Simon smirks. “Yeah. Home.” He presses a kiss to your temple, voice dropping just low enough for the team to hear. “And nobody’s keeping secrets.”

You grin, leaning into his touch. “Not anymore.”

___

Dinner is loud and warm.

Pizza boxes scattered across the coffee table, mismatched glasses of wine and whiskey, stories tossed back and forth like old songs. You pass a bottle to Soap with an arched brow and he blushes just trying to take it from your tattooed hand.

Simon keeps close, casually possessive — a hand resting on your thigh, or your waist, or tugging at your shirt just enough to remind everyone exactly where you belong.

At one point, you say something sharp and funny and Simon laughs — full and unguarded. His dimples show again, deep and rare.

Gaz damn near drops his drink. “Wait—you have dimples?!”

Simon shrugs like it’s nothing, but he’s watching them closely now.

“The no mask really fucked with you lot, huh?” he says, voice low and teasing, mouth curved in that slow, knowing way.

Soap stammers, completely undone. Gaz’s eyes flicker between Simon and you, caught off guard by how open and real Simon is without the usual armor.

Price clears his throat, trying to look composed but failing miserably.

Simon’s grin deepens. “Didn’t think it’d have this effect, but hey—guess I’m just full of surprises.”

You nudge his leg with yours under the table, and he gives your knee a squeeze.

___

Later, when the guys drift into the kitchen for another round, you and Simon stay behind in the living room.

His arm slides tighter around you, his fingers drifting beneath your shirt, slow and warm. His other hand rests on your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your skin.

“Kiss me,” you murmur, voice hushed.

He doesn’t hesitate.

The kiss is molten. Lazy at first, like a stretch after a long nap. Then it deepens, sharpens. His tongue slides against yours, teeth catching your bottom lip just enough to make you gasp into his mouth. One hand cups the side of your face, the other gripping your waist, your shirt riding up as he pulls you even closer. When you part, your lips are swollen, eyes glassy, and Simon’s grinning—dimples deep, mouth still chasing yours like he’s not done yet.

“Missed you,” he breathes against your cheek.

Before you can answer, you hear them—bootsteps approaching, half-muted voices.

You barely have time to shift before the team walks back in.

They freeze.

Johnny’s holding a bottle of whiskey and a set of tumblers. He drops one.

Gaz walks into the back of him with a low oof, and Price just… blinks.

Simon’s hand is still under your shirt. You’re still in his lap, his lips still kiss-wet, and your face reads pure satisfaction.

“Everything alright?” Simon drawls, completely unbothered.

Soap’s voice is way too high. “Y-Yeah! Yeah, all good, we—uh, just… wow.”

Gaz’s eyes dart between you and Simon’s hand, his gaze lingering on Simon’s chest, his abs, the lazy sprawl of his legs in those grey sweatpants. His lips part like he wants to say something but he’s forgotten how words work.

Price, to his credit, recovers quickest. “We interrupt something?”

Simon just tilts his head, mouth curving. “A little.”

He shifts, sitting upright—and the movement makes it worse. The sweats stretch. Muscles flex. You swear Soap whines under his breath.

Then Simon glances at them, slow and considering. “That was a welcome home for me,” he says, voice smooth. “So…”

He looks directly at Johnny. “Who’s next?”

Soap goes red. Gaz actually chokes.

Simon raises an eyebrow, not quite smirking, but close. “You lot always this flustered, or am I special?”

Gaz, flustered: “You’re—fit.”

Soap, absolutely unable to stop himself: “D’you always look like that under the gear? ‘Cause fuck.”

Simon just leans back, hand still resting on your thigh. “I’m off duty, Johnny. You nervous?”

“Oh, I’m—” Soap clears his throat and shifts, very visibly. “Not nervous. Just tryin’ not to do something stupid.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” you say, lips quirking, eyes on Gaz.

Gaz makes a sound that might be a laugh or a moan. It’s unclear.

Price sits down with a low sigh, clearly exhausted by everyone’s thirst. “Bloody hell, it’s gonna be a long night.”

Simon, deadpan: “Hope so.”

You grin widely and the team? They’re utterly doomed.

[sevs-corner]

Masterlist + Taglist!

Links to all my works so far:

>> CoD:

~~Tf 141: Mafia AU!

OG Idea behind the AU

Main Story Chapters:

-Chapter 1: The Rain Falls but They Fell Harder

-Chapter 1: Epilogue

-Chapter 2: Jobless? More like Job-Bless

-Chapter 2: Epilogue

-Chapter 3: Home Not-So-Sweet Home

-Chapter 3: Epilogue

-Chapter 4: Its Happy Hour for Them, Not For You

-Chapter 4: Epilogue (WIP)

Assorted One-Shots/Imagines/Short Fic Ideas:

-Small Gift Giving: Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz

-Another day at the Bakery w/: Graves, Alejandro

-First Date + Gift w/: Price

-Idea: Soap/ You sing the "Masochism Tango" together!

-Random HCs of the Charas: Food + Drink Preferences!

-First Date + Gifts w/: Ghost

-Them doing the small things for You: Gaz, Ghost, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy, Soap, Price, Konig, Horangi

-They take you out for a picnic for being overworked: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price

-They watch you get drunk and sing: Price, Alejandro, Rudy

-Nursing their Hangovers: Price, Ghost, Gaz, Soap

-They notice you opening up to them: Price, Ghost, Gaz, Soap

Taglist! <3

@ astreaaaaaa6 | @ accidental-obsessionist | @ sunshineistoofuckingbright | @ sleepisfortheweakpooh

~~One-Shots/ Other AUs

-Singing a Christmas Song duet w/: Graves

-Tf 141: Actor AU!: Ghost, Soap, Alejandro, Rudy, Price, Gaz, Alex, Farah, Graves

-HC's for Roach if he were in the current CoD: MW

-HC's if Roach was in CoD MW (2019~2023) Campaign

-Tf 141: Superpower/Superhuman AU!: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price, Roach, Alex

-Tf 141: Navy/ Airforce AU!: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price

-Tf 141 as Savy Playboy Navy boys: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price

-Love at First Sight w/: Price

-Tf 141: Soulmate-Reincarnation AU Idea

-cont idea + part 2 👆by: @ persephone-kore-law

-bridging thoughts on 👆

-Graves as your partner (*yaps)

-Drag Racer! Soap and his Tf 141 crew

-Tf 141 as Demi god

-Tf 141: Transformers AU (Age of Extinction)

-Tf 141 and their s/o having auditory sensory issues

-Tf 141: Soulmate-Reincarnation AU- first impressions (yaps*)

-Your Conspiracy on Tf 141's Lavender Marriage (an inspired idea to @ beloveds-embrace's Lavender Marriage AU )

-Tf 141 as Cursed Dragon Princes

Army! Tf 141 vs Navy! Reader

-Challenge 1: Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy (WIP)

Tf 141 and Their Marriage Problems With You (Mini Series | Angst to Comfort)

-Price | Ghost

Tf 141: as Highschool Jock Tropes: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price [18+ MDNI !! TW: NSFW Themes | Toxicity | Unhealthy r/s] {Inspo Playlist: Currently Updating}

- How the toxic relationship would be like with them

-Promposal Edition!

> Asks:

(Jock! Price First Impressions)

(Giving Simon a Mixtape)

(Simon and You as a Goth Rocker)

(Tf 141's POV of Your and Simon relationship)

Taglist! <3

@ cod-z

CoD x (Soldier) Reader: Retired Comfy AU (Everyone lives under 1 roof + Everything is platonic and has silly plot points)

-Part 1: How did it happen?: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price

-Part 2: Moving into the house: Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price

Tf 141: Betrayal AU! (Follows the main campaign plot)

-OG Idea on the premise

-How the betrayal goes (+rant on plot of MW3)

-How the poly relationship between the four exists in MW2-3 (yaps*)

Tf 141: On the Run AU (Based off @/bluegiragi Tf 141 Monster AU) TW: 18+ | MDNI

-OG Idea on the premise

-First Meeting w/: Soap

-You realize you chose to be stuck with them

[tradgedyinwaves]

indicates smut or smut adjacent*

Touch Masterlist First Choice Masterlist

Headcannons/Drabbles

Poly141! knowing your ex didn't give you the time of day unless he wanted something and refusing to be anything like him. * You leave a neglectful Simon Poly141! and their emotional damage - Expanding on Johnny You find out why John Price forgot your birthday -Alternate Ending -Part Two (Final) his heaven on earth, Simon Riley x Reader

Asks/Suggestions

Simon pulls away after Johnny's death Finding out your husband, Johnny, died without knowing you were pregnant with twins You get kidnapped and Kyle moves on Johnny helps you through the loss of your pregnancy John Price x gn goth!reader fluff Pet Play with 141 *

Misc.

sadgi, not a fungi Ghost ghost

[bravo4iscool]

call of duty (simon “ghost” riley) masterlist

masterlist overview

call of duty characters as f1 drivers

he’s in denial (a simon “ghost” riley headcanon)

simon riley’s love language (a simon “ghost” riley headcanon)

return (simon “ghost” riley x fem!retired!reader)

part two

the sacrifice (simon “ghost” riley x medic!reader)

mornings with ghost (simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader)

simon riley is a chubby chaser (a simon “ghost” riley headcanon)

simon “ghost” riley/captain john price x chubby!short!reader

you’re kidnapped (simon “ghost” riley x wife!reader)

simon riley witnesses a terror attack (a simon “ghost” riley headcanon)

simon riley is the type of man to hold you when you cry (a simon “ghost” riley headcanon)

turn off the lights (simon “ghost” riley x fem!chubby!reader)

goth!ghost (goth!simon “ghost” riley x scene!reader)

goth!ghost 2.0 (goth!simon “ghost” riley x goth!reader)

model!ghost (model!simon “ghost” riley x designer!reader)

part two

(toxic!)dad!simon (dad!simon “ghost” riley & teen!reader)

part two

old man masterlist (retired!simon “ghost” riley & retired!reader)

bodyguard!simon x lawyer!reader (retired!simon “ghost” riley x fem!chubby!reader)

neigbour!graves helps you move in (phillip graves x reader)

simon and his mechanic!girlfriend (simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader)

simon and his tomboy!girlfriend (simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader)

simon and his lawyer!wife (simon “ghost” riley x fem!wife!reader)

this has no name (simon “ghost” riley x fem!reader)

birthday present (mechanic!simon “ghost” riley x reader)

ptsd (simon “ghost” riley/john “soap” mactavish x reader)

broken cycle (simon “ghost” riley x wife!reader)

too much work (simon “ghost” riley x wife!reader)

baby no.2 (simon “ghost” riley x wife!reader)

too afraid (simon “ghost” riley x reader)

bracelet (a simon “ghost” riley headcanon)

false signs masterlist (simon “ghost” riley x reader)

simon and his tall!wife (simon “ghost” riley x fem!wife!reader)

part two

crime and punishment (simon “ghost” riley x reader)

eating good (simon “ghost” riley x 141!reader)

tf141 getting pets

wayne!AU (simon “ghost” riley & older!brother!reader)

friends to lovers (simon “ghost” riley x chubby!fem!reader)

tf141!office!AU (tf141 x fem!reader)

i date to marry (simon “ghost” riley x reader)

simon meets your parents

why not love me? masterlist (tf141 x simon’s wife!reader; one-sided)

family line (simon “ghost” riley x reader)

cancel your date (captain john price x chubby!fem!reader)

vikings/call of duty crossover

part two

more to come…

[mistydeyes]

can you do a 141 boys (maybe + könig if u write for him :3) where they're all watching a horror movie together and expect reader to be scared of it, but instead reader is enjoying it and even laughing at some parts? like reader isnt phased by the horror at all, meanwhile soap is shitting his pants😭 <3

anon I LOVED THIS REQUEST! im a horror movie junkie myself and ill laugh while everyone is screaming :) this was close to home so I hope you enjoy!

horror movie protagonist

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summary: Task Force 141 had an odd tradition of showing horror movies to their newest members and scaring the absolute living shit out of them. However, they're surprised when you start to commentate on the movie as if it was some nature documentary. They're even more surprised when you starting laughing hysterically.

pairing: Task Force 141, König x gn!platonic!Reader (codename: Monsoon)

warnings: SWEARING, fictional movie violence (but GORY IMAGERY SO BE WARNED and also spoilers for Martyrs

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Despite being trained soldiers and experiencing all types of horror on the battlefield, the 141 still acted like American frat boys. Once the guns were all locked away and they changed out of their fatigues, they were the absolute worst. One of their hazing rituals was to make their newest member watch a gruesome or terrifying horror movie. The ritual started when Gaz joined, they made him sit through Hostel and he still fears traveling. Next was Soap and he shared Gaz's sentiments after watching Infinity Pool and experiencing the absolute terror that is Mia Goth. They even roped König into their routine and watched as he held his hands over his eyes and sat through Megan is Missing. Poor boy couldn't even hide behind his mask as he watched the horrifying images of Megan appear on the screen.

After a good training session with the team, they invited you to watch a movie in the common room. It was your first week as an official addition to the 141 and you were happy to participate in some comradery. You headed off to the showers before the film and couldn't see the devious faces of Gaz and Soap. They had a plan for you that night and were excited to continue the tradition. "You don't think it'll be too scary?" Gaz said to Soap as they walked to the showers. "We picked a solid one," he replied but shuttered when he remembered his experience, "still can never look at me in the mirror."

After your shower, you dried your damp hair as you entered the common room. Your team had used their strength from training to move together two couches and a few chairs in front of the television. "Ready for movie night, Monsoon?" Kyle asked as he appeared with some popcorn. You grabbed a handful before you nodded. You took a seat next to Soap and Gaz joined on your other side. Price was lounging on one of the chairs and Ghost sat with König to his left. "We picked a good one, just for you," Soap said with a suspicious smirk but you shrugged as he unpaused the film. "What is it?" you questioned as you looked around to see everyone had a similar expression. "Nothing like you haven't seen before" Price replied and you nodded as you turned to the screen.

The movie opened with a family enjoying dinner and you rolled your eyes at the thought of another heartwarming piece. Before you could speak up, a woman entered and brutally murdered the family one by one with a shotgun. "Fuckin' hell," Ghost muttered as the blood stained the screen and you couldn't help but feel a little skeptical. "The blood is too red, they could've done a better job," you muttered and Soap looked at you as if you were insane. You threw your hands up defensively in response. "I'm just saying," you muttered and the film continued.

The next scene you had commentary on was when Anna was exploring underneath the house and discovered a secret chamber. There, she discovered a woman with a steel blindfold attached to her face. "Holy shit," Gaz whispered as they zoomed in to the metal mixing with his scarlet blood. König was silent but it was clear he was fearing the worst as he tried to look away. "How is she even still alive?" Price uttered and you chimed in. "Exactly! It's an actual death sentence and just unrealistic that they can screw that in and not have her die from blood loss," you exclaimed, pointing at the screen. Yet again, everyone looked at you incredulously. "You can't expect me to watch a movie and not point out the flaws."

You remained relatively silent and kept your opinions to yourself until Anna became the latest subject and experienced brutal beatings and verbal degradations. With every shot, everyone turned away but you just rolled your eyes. You even looked bored at some points, much to the confusion of everyone in the room. Even Ghost was a bit disturbed by the brutality of the movie and put down his plate of leftovers. "I don't get what's so scary," you mumbled and Gaz lightly hit your leg to silence your sarcastic commentary.

Eventually, Anna reached the "final stage." The screen was filled with horrifying imagery and in the middle of it König took a break to walk away and hit the head. You continued watching the spectacle and tried to keep your thoughts to yourself. However, as Ghost and Price looked disgusted as the doctor peeled off her skin in a few fleshy sheets, you couldn't hold it in any longer. You laughed as the attention was on you again. "What now, Sergeant?" Price asked, bewildered. "It's just so anatomically impossible for her to survive, I mean look at her she's practically being skinned alive," you exclaimed and pointed at the screen. König had the unfortunate timing of returning when the camera zoomed in on Anna and you could hear him turn around and walk away. You chuckled as Gaz's covered his eyes to block the sight of Anna sitting in a comatose state with nothing left except for her muscles and veins.

Soap had enough and grabbed the remote to pause the film. "Okay, what the fuck, Monsoon," he interrogated and you could feel the spotlight fall on you. "What do you mean, Soap? I'm just saying the obvious," you replied back and childishly crossed your arms. "No," Gaz continued, "why are you so unfazed?" You laughed suddenly and your sides began to hurt before you recovered. "Stuff like this doesn't scare me at all," you said as you wiped some tears from your eyes. "So you're telling me you watch this for fun?" Price joined in and you nodded in response.

"Oh yeah, I love horror movies!" you explained as they looked at you wide-eyed. Ghost laughed loudly at the reveal. "I've watched all kinds of messed up shit," you continued, "From The Human Centipede to Hostel, I've seen it all." Gaz looked at Soap and you could see the glint of disappointment in their eyes. "Were-were you trying to make me scared?" you questioned and the two nodded. "It's a tradition we have in the 141, watch a gruesome movie and get the shit scared out of you," he replied quietly and you couldn't help but feel a little bad. "We can still continue?" you offered but Ghost shook his head as he got up. "If I don't have to sit through this, I won't," he said and waved off before heading to his quarters. Price followed suit and Gaz began to clean up, leaving only you and Soap on the couch.

"You are fucking crazy," Soap swore and you shot a look at him. "You telling me that was scary to you, Sergeant?" you said skeptically and Gaz laughed in response. As he shook his head in refusal, you knew how you would get back at him. A week later Soap's screams filled the base as you had snuck a picture of the martyred Anna into one of his nudie magazines. "Serves you right, Mactavish," you smiled to yourself before you settled back onto the couch and played the first movie of your Insidious marathon.

[porkcutletbowl44]

Angst, grief, loss of loved one, comfort

First time full on writing Gaz sorry if this sucks? (If he's wildly out of character please please please tell me)

Bound in a Phantoms Wish

❄️💕❄️

Christmas time used to be beautiful.

A warm fireplace, decorations, fresh homemade cinnamon rolls and delicious Christmas cookies (family recipe, of course), and the yearly tradition of putting up the tree at Nan's.

Kyle used to look forward to the holidays.

The delicious food, the gifts, the warmth and love from his family. Now all it does is remind him of what he no longer has. All it leaves in him is a stinging hole in his chest, a reminder every year that Nan is gone.

With a heavy exhale, Kyle watched his breath rise and dissipate in the air.

He leaned down, scooping up a handful of snow, squeezing lightly, watching the tiny frozen crystals stick together in a rough ball. He took a deep breath, watching steam escape his nose again. Breathe in, breathe out.

He was freezing. His thin, thermal black sweater could only keep him warm for so long.

"Remind me again why I agreed to this?"

Of course, he would return, year after year, visiting the grave.

It was a new tradition, after all.

Kyle's gloveless hands, now stiff and cold, chucked the ball of snow off to the side and stuffed his hand in the front jacket pocket as he treaded along.

Nancy Olivia Spencer

1930-2018

Loving wife, mother and grandmother.

Rest in eternal peace.

He recites in his mind.

The thought of his grandmother always made him feel somber. She was the closest thing to a mother figure after losing his mum at a young age. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, before opening them again. He looked over, glancing down as his gaze landed on the bouquet of tulips he brought, fresh and new.

"She would've loved these," his voice was barely above a whisper, feeling a lump burn up his esophagus.

Kyle heard footsteps, treading over the snow.

His head snapped upwards, gaze locking onto a black figure. His hand reflexively reached down under his sweater, fingers wrapping around the butt of a pistol he had concealed, hidden in an internal waist belt. His muscles tensed, eyes narrowing as he got a better look at the mysterious person crouching and shuffling through the snow.

...Right at Nan's grave.

He sucks in the cold air, overfilling his lungs with an icy bite. He watches the figure's movements with a steady dose of anger rising up, as they walked over to the headstone— arms seeming to sweep over the granite?— back facing Kyle.

He cautiously steps out into the yard, his boots immediately sinking into the snow, leaving behind a trail of imprints.

His hand remain where it is, hidden in his pocket and clutching the butt of his pistol. He watches the figure as silently as possible, feeling the numbness of his toes and fingers float off as unimportant.

He's greatly on edge. Being a member of an elite military unit will do that to you, always being paranoid and careful of your surroundings, even when he was on holiday. His heart was thudding in his chest, adrenaline rising quickly as he gripped his pistol tighter.

Whoever this was, they had the same idea to pay a visit and he had no fucking clue this person was or how they knew his Nan.

"Oi," he barks harshly, "Can I help you?"

You turn on the tips of your boots in a spooked manner, falling into the deep snow side first.

"O-Oh, hello! I'm so sorry I thought—" you bleat at the contact of cold snow, half your body getting covered in icy flakes.

Kyle's jaw slacks, a woman?

He stood in silence for a moment, before slowly making his way over, kicking small clouds of snow as he walked. He didn't expect whoever it was to be so... Cute.

Seeing your arms pop out from the snow, he lets a chuckle loose just a little to ease the tension.

"Bloody hell," he knelt down to his knees in the snow, lifting you out of the icy blanket on the earth, "Are you alright, miss?"

He helps lift you out, brushing the snow and ice off the best he could, his hands briskly sweeping over your shoulders. His gaze is still studying you, taking in your face and your features, you shiver almost violently from the cold, taking a moment to look at your features, unable to deny that you're quite beautiful. Even if you're dressed quite... Peculiarly.

He lets go of you, making sure you were balanced as he stood, tulips dangling in his grasp. Your cheeks and nose were red from the cold with your teeth chattering softly in your mouth.

"What are you doing out here?" He questioned, watching you with a wary gaze.

You huff out a dry laugh, presumably from the cold or because you are still spooked, pointing with a shaking finger to the tombstone.

"I'm so sorry, I had called a lady— uhm, a Mrs. Evelyn for permission to clean this headstone,"

Definitely skittish.

The corner of his lip twitched, his eyebrows crinkling in confusion. Your stuttering, shivering form gave him the impression that you were definitely cold, definitely scared. He had to admit, this was strange, why would you want to clean a stranger's headstone in -12°C weather?

'Auntie Eve' was the last person he expected.

"You called my aunt to clean my Nan's grave."

It came out sounding more like a statement, than a question. Kyle stares for a moment, his mind replaying your words once. Then twice.

Auntie Evelyn?

Of everything he expected, that was not it. He glanced to the grave, then back at you, taking a moment to process a simple response instead of looking around like a poorly programmed NPC. 

The thought of it alone warmed his heart, but the fact that you had called his Aunt for permission... Auntie Evelyn was a sweet, sweet lady, but also a tad too strict. He silently wonders what she had said to you?

"You called my Aunt," he repeated back to you, blinking several times, as if this were some dream—

A lady, dressed in all black and leather chains, dangling necklaces and bangles, cleaning graves on the week of Christmas?

"Ah," he finally manages to get out, clearing his throat in the process as he glances away, gaze at the headstone instead of you.

"You're here to... Clean?"

A sudden flush of embarrassment washes over his features, and the adrenaline in his system slowly starts to dissipate. Of course you were here to clean, he's just not believing it. It was just that the gesture was such a shock to him. He hadn't expected anyone to want to clean his Nan's grave, especially at this time of year.

He clears his throat, trying to regain his composure as he looks back to you. He takes a closer look now, noticing more of your attire— leather boots, multiple piercings, black pointed nails, rings, and there's a few notebooks next to you with various pendants hanging from the top of the spine.

Interesting attire.

"Yes! That is correct, I didn't know anyone was going to be here to visit... Nobody usually does come here often— I'm so sorry,"

He couldn't deny that he was rather impressed that you had the guts to call his Auntie for permission, especially considering how strict she usually is with her family and property.

Kyle's surprise slowly turned into a small smile as he watched you. Your sheepish demeanor was rather endearing, he couldn't deny that either. Though he could tell that you were genuinely sorry from your tone.

"No, no— you don't have to apologize," he shook his head, a small chuckle slipping through his lips, "You just startled me a bit, is all."

He glanced back at the grave, then back to you like you might take off, taking note of the supplies you brought with you.

"Where did you even find a shovel in this weather?"

As if you didn't even know you had a shovel, you look down and then grin.

"It's actually mine! I use it for gardening, but for the snow in the winter..." You look back, the white snow matches your makeup, it makes it really pop; blinding. "...To, uhm, clean the headstones and stuff."

You use a shovel— your shovel— for gardening, or to clean snow and headstones? That was certainly... Unique.

"You... garden?" He repeated, surprise lacing his voice, "In this weather?"

His eyes scanned your body once again, taking in your attire and jewelry, realizing he's now making a lot of snap assumptions about you.

"That's not to say you don't look the type to go out and... I don't know, till dirt?" He added quickly, hoping he hasn't offended you.

Kyle is amused, but carefully so.

"I have a greenhouse!" You informed kindly, lips parting wide with a toothy grin.

You seemed passionate about it. It was almost adorable how excited you looked telling him this with such compassion with a stranger. It made him wonder just how many more surprises you could possibly have in store. Was there anything else about you that would surprise him?

"Yeah?" He smiles genuinely now.

He holds out one of his hands, "I'm Kyle, sorry for givin' you a scare,"

You take it, your painted nails grazing his skin while giving him your name.

"It's fine, I'm sorry for just being here... God, you must think I'm some kind of weirdo,"

He feels heat rising up in his face, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly, and his heart rate picks up tempo again.

Weirdo? No, on the contrary.

His mind starts to go a bit haywire. Not a weirdo, you're bloody gorgeous.

Kyle's skin tingled at your touch, the coolness of your hand and fingers sending a shiver up his spine, and definitely not in a bad way. He shook his head as you spoke.

"No, not at all," he chuckled again, "You are the first person who's cared so much about this grave."

He paused, taking a moment to look out at the surroundings, snowflakes flurrying down every so often. A silence fell between the two of you, the only sound being the slight crunch of the snow beneath your boots as it shifted and melted. As the air between you two grew quiet, Kyle glanced back at you, studying you once again.

His gaze went from your eyes, down to your lips, taking in your smile once again. His eyes flicked to your earrings, then down to your necklaces, and then down to your hands still entwined with his. He realized that he was practically staring at you, but he couldn't help it.

You looked so... Different.

You were different. From anyone he's ever met.

"If you don't me asking," Kyle starts cautiously, "What brought you to start... Uh, cleaning graves?"

He held your hand gently as he spoke, his gaze flickering back up to meet yours, his dark brown eyes studying your face in an attempt to understand you. He was never one for beating around the bush, preferring to get straight to the point. You seem to snap back to reality, your eyes going wide in panic.

"Oh God! I'm sorry—" you glance at the forgotten tulips on his hand, your own retracting quickly. "I'll let you pay your respects to..."

"She's my Nan," he chuckles, smile dimming as the headstone unblurs, bleeding into his peripheral vision.

He followed your gaze, flitting to the tulips clutched in his hand.

"It's... It's fine, y'know," he reassured, his voice soft and gentle.

He raised the tulips, gesturing to the grave.

"I was just about to put these down," he smiled faintly.

"Those are beautiful..." You remark, recognizing his grief with a soft tone. "I'm very sorry for your loss—"

Just listening to you speak was enough to soothe him. You were so gentle about it, there was a certain... Warmth to your voice. The snowy landscape around him fell to the background, focusing solely on your voice—

".... Dining....... Sunlight!....."

Loud, cracking white noise cuts in the air in choppy, whooshing waves. His head jerks in the direction of the noise, confusion written across his features.

"What the bloody hell is that?" He breathes. 

"Sorry!" Your nails clack on plastic in a hurried attempt to silence the speaker, the sound cutting off with a loud staticy blare, "Damn walkman..." You chuckle.

He raised an eyebrow at the mention of a 'walkman.' Those things were old. But he supposed that was the least of his concerns.

"That some old vintage thing?" He asked, a smirk pulling at his lips, "Didn't realize they still made those."

"It was a gift... I have a thing for old-timey stuff," you smile prettily, tucking the device behind your back.

He exhaled loudly through his nostrils, thinking that was also odd. It was far too loud to be a walkman, and it didn't sound like singing.

"Your walkman?" He tilted his head towards the device, "What were you listening to that sounded like... That?"

"It's old, it... Messes up with the frequencies and stuff," you managed.

Kyle nodded in understanding, his confusion slowly fading away as you explained.

"Ah, I get it. Probably needs some new batteries, yeah?"

You fidget with the device, trying to get it working properly again. It was an interesting thing, how outdated it was. Old or not, he was intrigued by the fact that you carried a walkman of all things.

"Old music player, huh?" He asked, tilting his head slightly.

You shoot him a cheeky grin, "Fitting, isn't it?"

Goth.

Yeah, the black leather and chains, the jewelry, the earrings, the walkman.

Everything about you screamed Goth.

It was indeed fitting, even if the device seemed ancient compared to today's smartphones and Bluetooth headphones.

"Well, I have to say," he begins, trying to sound nonchalant, "You certainly match that look you got going on. Goth, right?"

"Guilty," you outstretch your arms, the lovely bat sleeve dress you wear fanning out.

His gaze lingered on the patterns and shades, then drifts back to your face, taking in your makeup again before meeting your eyes. A smile tugged at his lips once more as he observed you. He quickly clears his throat, taking a step back to create some distance between the two of you, trying to ignore the subtle heat in his cheeks.

"It uh," he fumbles, "It suits you." he comments, noting how the dark colors contrasted nicely with your eyes and hair.

He never had this issue before, especially not with a stranger. Sure, he's had his fair share of partners and relationships in the past, but this was different.

You were different.

Something about you—your look, your attitude—was intriguing to him.

A moment of silence passes between the two, the only sound being the faint hiss coming from the old walkman. He didn't understand what you were doing to him. His heart beat a little faster when you smiled, and he found himself becoming acutely aware of your every move— the way you held yourself, how your dress swayed with your every movement, the sound of your voice, and the way your lips moved when you spoke.

It was absurd really, how someone he had just met could affect him this much. He gives you a wry smile, gingerly laying the flowers on the headstone.

Despite his attempt at regaining his composure, Kyle's hand trembles ever so slightly as he carefully places the tulips on the headstone. He stood silently for a moment, paying his respects to his Nan, taking in a deep breath to clear his head.

His mind, however, could not be clearer and he found his thoughts were solely focused on you.

"I uh," he began after a beat, cutting through the silence between the two of you, "I'm grateful. Thank you for tidying up her headstone."

Kyle's eyes flicker over you, taking in the way you seem to preen a little from his gratitude. He couldn't help but find the sight endearing—you were almost like a kitten preening after getting a pat on the head. Yet, you felt good for doing a good deed to a stranger you've never met.

He let out a small laugh, "You like doing this kinda stuff, don't you?" He asks, his voice laced with amusement.

"Of course... There's just something peaceful about graveyards."

Peaceful was the right word for graveyards and the overall atmosphere of the place.

It was quiet, still. You couldn't hear the sounds of blaring car horns and honking cars like you could in the city. The only sounds to be heard were the occasional birdsong and the gentle shhhh of a light breeze passing by.

Yet... Who would be comfortable being surrounded by death and grief?

"Yeah, I get it," he mutters quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets, "It's quiet, y'know."

He glanced back at the headstone, his Nan's name etched into the granite.

"I always thought it was... Strange," he began, his voice quiet. "How there's just rows and rows of stones, all lined in uniform."

His gaze flickers to the many grave sites surrounding his Nan's, a small lump forming in his throat.

"Every single one of 'em is a person. Someone who lived, and someone who had loved ones. It's hard not to think of—"

He cuts himself short, his throat tightening.

"Are you okay?" You murmur delicately.

His mind drifts to his job; to Soap, Price, Ghost, all his teammates.

It was a dangerous line of work they did—the fact that every time he walked away from base, he'd could be walking to his possible demise. Of all the things that could get him killed, he never thought of dying in a graveyard before. He nods faintly, addressing you lightly.

"How come you aren't creeped out by it? The... dead folk around us?"

Your nonchalance piqued his interest. Here you were, at a graveyard, surrounded by death, and you somehow seemed completely unfazed by it. The fact that he was creeped out baffled him. He'd been in far more dangerous situations before, life-threatening ones even, but yet, a cemetery got to him.

He'd never met someone who felt comfortable in a graveyard. Sure, you got the odd group of teens here and there, trying to make some sort of video or take pictures; but most people avoided visiting them unless necessary.

Yet, here you seemed to be—standing right in the middle of a graveyard as if it were an everyday thing. As if it were normal.

"Well... Nobody is here to say anything. I don't get weird looks or questioned for who I am." You supply, and you're not in any way being rude or snarky.

You're just... So passionate about what you do. So into it.

Enigmatic.

Nobody was judging you here, nobody was there to criticize you—just you, and the dead.

He could only guess what you meant by who you are.

But the fact that nobody had anything to say here, no one would question you nor give you weird looks... That was something he could understand. After all, he too, had felt similar.

"I suppose you're right," he said slowly, a frown now forming on his lips.

He glanced around the graveyard, noting the fact that the two of you were the only ones there. It was still quiet, peaceful even as the soft breeze passed through, gently pushing away the clouds of his thoughts. But there was something about you that made him want to ask. To delve deeper into your mind.

"But—that can't be the only reason, right?" He asked quickly. 

He glanced around the graveyard, his eyes roaming over the headstones and markers surrounding them.

"You said it yourself—" he began, turning his gaze back to you. He took a small step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, "—that it's peaceful. You prefer dead people's company over the living?"

You keep your smile, shaking your head with a patient look.

"I meant that this is relaxing... To be alone on the living side while spending time with them. How many of their families actually visit them?"

He knew all too well of friends and family who never bothered visiting those who had passed.

They just... Left them there.

Left them to rot.

He glanced back at his Nan's headstone, the sharp, hot stab of grief returning. He missed her. His gaze flickered to you, still watching him with that kind, warming sight.

"Not many," he mutters bitterly, "If any."

Many of the graves here seem to be abandoned, with weeds poking through the cracks of their stones, signs of age and deterioration noticeable on most of them. You peer around him, the pink and yellow tulips standing out against the snow.

"...No gift?" You tease lightly.

"Gift..." he repeated, the word sounded foreign on his tongue as his mind scrambled for meaning.

After a moment, his expression softened into a warm smile as he realized what you meant. In his not so excitement of eagerness to visit his Nan's grave this year, he had completely forgotten a gift. He usually didn't, just the flowers and some loving words.

"Ah, no—no gift." he admitted sheepishly, "Bit of a rookie mistake, wasn't it?"

You reach into your purse— it's an Ouija board design— pulling out a tiny plushie made out of soft yarn.

It's a bee. Nan loved the bees. She had a fascination with insects, always pointing out different types and saying their names as if they were her babies. His Nan would have loved the gift.

"A little gift, for Christmas... If you want,"

His Nan adored those creatures. She loved to watch them buzz about in the garden when summer rolled around every year. Her entire kitchen was bee themed, throw blankets on the couches were yellow— Sunflowers. Bees. Wind. Honey. The China cabinet has multiple bee tea cups with matching plates and spoons.

But... How did you know?

"I—" he began, his words cut off as the sight of the toy bee registered in his mind.

For a moment, he wished to see her smile one more time.

"Are you sure...?"

Your face drops in minor, frantic panic.

"I mean, I have others if that's not good... Let's see; sheep, bats, octopus, a spider—"

Despite the anxiety on your face, Kyle found himself unable to hold in the chuckle raddles around his throat.

"It's perfect," he reassured, holding out his hand to stop you from pulling out the entire pocket full of plush toys. "She'd—she'd love it, really." He reassured, quiet and thoughtful.

Kyle reached out his hand, gingerly taking the plushie from your grasp. He held it carefully, studying the little creature in the palm of his hand. It was small— adorable, even— with its cute smile, heart-shaped blushing cheeks and the soft, hand-crocheted yarn it was made of.

He smiles as he imagines his Nan's reaction to the toy.

She would've loved it.

He turns, clutching it close to his chest for just a moment, imagining receiving just one more of her hugs smelling of butterscotch and freshly baked bread— and putting the bee on the headstone. The plushie finds its place beside the tulips, its cheerful smile seeming to almost match the cheerful colors of the tulips.

He found comfort in knowing that he now left something that he knew his Nan would love, and for once, he didn't feel the gnawing guilt of leaving her lonely and abandoned.

"Thank you..." he began, strained and almost choked "You—uh, didn't have to. I know we barely know each other and—"

He stopped himself; realizing he was about to ramble on awkwardly. Usually, he wasn't so inept when it came to talking to people, let alone attractive women. Yet, here he stood, feeling like a teen who had just discovered girls for the first time.

He was thankful—so, so thankful for the gift and your kindness. But the fact that he now associated your sweet, caring attitude with his grandmother's didn't help the growing feelings stirring within him.

"It's nothing," you wave off, "I have tons of them. I like to make things,"

The idea of you sitting there just knitting, crocheting away was cute. He could almost imagine your determined expression, your hand creating something out of nothing, creating life from nothing but some fabric and thread.

He glances at the bee, "You made that?"

He took a good look at the plushie, noting the soft, hand crocheted yarn, the careful and precise stitches that made the little bee look so perfect.

"Damn," he continued, his tone a mix of admiration and disbelief, "It looks... Professional."

The craft was far more advanced than his own skill sets, he could only make a measly blanket or a beanie. On a good day.

Just how much time and effort had you put into making it?

How long have you been practicing crocheting?

And for some reason, how did your hands look working away at the yarn? Was it as beautiful as the rest of you?

He didn't want to question too much and sound like an ignorant pillock.

He couldn't even imagine the amount of time and patience it would take to master something like that, let alone have the talent of producing those little creations.

"Thanks! The stitch pattern is easy once you understand and memorize it,"

Your knowledge on the craft was impressive to say the least.

He couldn't muster the amount of patience it would've taken to do this kind of thing, and to put so much effort into a simple, hand-made gift. And not only that, but to do it without asking for much in return.

"It must take days to make somethin' like that, right?" He asked with curious wonder, "The yarn looks pretty small and tricky,"

"Half an hour," you corrected, your arms now hugging yourself as a gust of wind blew at your dress.

Only half an hour?

For something like that?

Impressive was an understatement.

"It's for my side business. I hope to make it a priority one day—" You rub your hands together with a soft sniffle.

You were shivering from the cold, and yet, you continued talking like nothing was happening. Didn't you know you could get ill?

You had also chosen to wear the thin dress with... Stockings.

Were you trying to freeze to death?

With how cold it was outside, and with you only in a long sleeve dress and very light clothing, you were far more cold than him. Kyle tried to reason with himself. He wasn't your parent for Christ's sake, it wasn't his business if you froze yourself.

Yet he found that the need to protect you was starting to overpower his better judgment. He wasn't sure what you were trying to do— freeze? Impress him?

But he was certain that you'd get ill if you remained outside much longer like this. He doesn't even think of his next move.

"Here—"

There's plenty of warmth in his jacket. Thankfully he's got a spare in his car. Kyle shrugged off his jacket before you could even consider protesting. He moved closer, gently draping the extra layer of heavy fabric around your shoulders. His hands lingered on the material, adjusting it so it covered you properly.

As the heavy weight settled on your frame, he took a small step back to admire you.

You... You looked damn good.

He's smug; getting you some warmth before you could even deny it for his sake.

"What were you thinking comin' out to clean a gravesite in snow without proper attire?"

"Doesn't match my style. Pain is temporary, beauty is forever," you giggled.

Kyle raised an eyebrow at your words, his lips twitching slightly in amusement.

"A fashion diva, ay?" He teased, taking a small step closer to you.

"Style over warmth? You sure you're not about to freeze somethin' off, love?"

"I'd say it's worth it," you quip back.

He takes in the way the jacket swallows your frame, how the material falls over your curves, the way his own body heat still lingered within the fabric, and you still shivering slightly from the cold. He let his gaze linger on how his jacket looked in its new form, and how it seemed to make you look so— small.

You did like looking good, didn't you?

From the dress that showed off your figure and tattoos, to the stockings that looked far too good on your legs, to his oversized jacket draped over your arms. You looked stunning, yet it was a damn shame you'd get ill because you couldn’t keep warm in the elements.

He hums, the corner of his lips twitching up slightly.

"Would you fancy a break from the cold? There's..." He clears his throat, smoothing off snow from his short hair.

There's been enough grief for today. He wouldn't want his Nan to witness him being a bumbling fool over a beautiful woman any longer.

"...—There's a café a few blocks down. Some tea? Hot chocolate?"

The café had a reputation for its decent service, a comfortable atmosphere, and most importantly; delicious hot beverages and baked goods. He wasn't ready to part with you yet, he wanted to spend more time with you. A hot cup of tea or hot chocolate was the perfect excuse.

If you accepted, that is.

He watched intently as you seemed to consider his offer, your mind swirling on whether to stay within the cold to keep working or join him in the warmth. He would have preferred the latter, especially with how you were still shivering as the wind picked up, your body starting to shake more obviously.

"Unless you're up for losin' a limb to frostbite, love?" He teased, hoping to sway you to agree.

A shared chuckle between you, and then you nod.

"Yeah, I would love to." Your eyes wander behind him, "But don't you want some extra time?"

He had already spent a reasonable amount of time. He had said his goodbyes, left his gift, and taken in the sight of her grave one last time. He never did stay long. It was too painful.

"No..." he said finally, shaking his head slightly, "I-I think I've spent enough time for today."

Stay here longer and be alone with his thoughts, wallow in more grief and guilt? Or leave and spend time with you?

The decision is obvious.

"Some company would be nice," he murmurs, turning his gaze back on you with a gentle smile.

With the decision agreed upon, Kyle took the lead, guiding you away from the grave site as the sun continued to climb up the sky. His eyes didn't wander often, keeping his gaze straight ahead, but occasionally, he would glance over at you to see if you were keeping up.

His jacket looked even better on you than he had imagined. It was baggy on you, the hem of the material falling down to your mid-thigh, which was definitely a sight for sore eyes.

"So... A knitting business?"

"Mhm, it's a little hobby I decided to pursue as a side career. It's very relaxing to knit or crochet in my greenhouse."

Kyle nodded, listening intently as you explained further. He could picture you working away on something, sitting in your little greenhouse, surrounded by rows and rows of yarn with a cup of tea or coffee in your hand, completely immersed in the project, the sunlight pouring in and warming your skin along with the warm climate of the greenhouse itself.

It sounded... Cozy.

He could imagine you completely in your realm; in your own space.

"Sounds like you're living in paradise," he remarked warmly, "Specially when it's freezin' outside. What do you grow in it? Vegetables, or..."

"Anything I get get a hold of... How about your profession?"

"Me?" He asked, his voice going surprisingly hoarse all of a sudden.

He coughs to clear his throat, running a hand through his hair as he tries to find the right words. How exactly was he supposed to explain his job to you? How could he even describe it? His job was a lot more rough and intense than yours. He was a killer. A trained killer who took people's lives.

Not something a normal girl would want to hear.

You just remain silent as he fumbles to himself, treading through snow carefully.

Luckily, the 'walkman' decides it's the perfect opportunity.

".... War! Danger!..... Home?....."

For a moment or two, Kyle floundered, lost in a mixture of surprise and frustration. He'd already forgotten about the strange relic, and was not prepared to have it go off in the middle of his moment of panic.

It almost sounds disoriented— broken. Like a radio signal that's been scrambled and garbled.

There's a warning in the tone, a sense of urgency that had his heart nearly stopping. The thing was loud, in such poor condition... The sound of the voice; the warning in the tone, the sense of urgency— were you in trouble?

It was strange... Like it answered his question for him.

"Sorry about that," you chuckled.

His eyes dart over your form. You seemed undisturbed by the garbled noise, like this was a normal occurrence for you.

"No, it's... It's alright," he mutters with caution, "Mind telling me what it is though? Where did you get it?"

"It was a gift from... An old shop, super old, I'm shocked it still works when it does,"

A gift... Super old shop... Something that managed to just, well, work?

That sounds impossible.

But here you were, holding the device in your hands, which clearly managed to produce a strange, disorientated voice.

Weird.

Kyle still seems a little off, like he's seen a ghost, but the smile on your face was reassuring enough to calm him slightly. Perhaps the device was normal. He was just overreacting.

He keeps pace next to you, clearing his throat once again. He finds himself smiling back at you, a soft hum of acknowledgment leaving his throat as he continues to follow along beside you.

Yet... He just can't fully forget that the voice was distinctly female. What a strange radio station...

He's doing it almost instinctively, moving himself closer to the road while you're by the inner sidewalk, closest to the shop windows. He gets you away from the snow and any potential slush, and keep you safe from any car accidents, or reckless drivers. He doesn't think anything of the gesture as he walks alongside you, but you have the sweetest smile and the softest eyes he's ever seen on a woman.

[agoraphxnics]

i’m in a bit of a depressive episode, so here’s a list of things i would love to write about in regards to tf141 (and if anyone is like YES PLEASE WRITE THIS NOW i will try my damndest lol).

- naga 141 where kyle and johnny find you, hypnotize you, and bring you back to their den

- dragon 141 x princess reader

- massage therapist simon with fem afab reader with chronic pain 🥺 this one is v self-indulgent—

- pirates 141 are obsessed with mermaid fem reader

- siren john wants to add depressed gn reader to his pod (completed!)

- mermen 141 and human fem afab reader meet and…😏

- werewolf pack 141 x vampire gn reader

- there’s a story i wrote here that i kinda wanna turn into 141

- werewolf john takes you, a newly-turned pup, in

- 141 sharing you

- goth reader shenanigans

- doing 141’s makeup (completed!)

- 141 thirsting

- reader dressing them up for a goth club

- 141 being dóms (both sf!w and n.sf!w)

- reminding you to take care of yourself

- no negative self talk 😡

- anything omegaverse

just a grocery list of thoughts. i might try to crank one out, no guarantees that it’ll be good 😭 if

[vampire-matcha]

Blood in the Wine masterlist!!!

After moving to London all by yourself, you're struggling to make any meaningful connections. So, when a handsome stranger invites you out, you jump at the offer. However, you soon find yourself in way over your head when he reveals much more than what you expected: not just one, but four creatures of the night, thirsty for a taste of YOU. Will you make a valiant escape? Or will you allow yourself to fall into their hungry arms?

Immersion disclaimer: while the Reader's race and size are not mentioned, she is described as having an alternative style, including tattoos, piercings, and dyed hair, though texture is not described. Specific subculture (punk, goth, emo, etc.) is not mentioned.

Blood in the Wine on AO3

Fic rating: M to E, 18+ only

Chapter One: Hibiscus Tea

Chapter Two: Reflections

Chapter Three: Nightcap

Chapter Four: Botanicals

Chapter Five: Tannins (E)

Chapter Six: Merlot (E)

Chapter Seven: Mead (NEW)

Banner by @bloodyknucklesforme

Other works:

141 Mechanic!AU

Part 1 (E)

Part 2 (E)

Cheating!Soap (Angst, hurt/no comfort)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Our Girlfriend (Gaz x reader to poly!141 x reader, smut)

Another Kind of Pleasure (Ghaz sounding)

[bunnyandbowie]

🪖Call of duty master list 🪖

John 'captain' price🚬: captain/rookie hurt comfort

Simon 'ghost' Riley💀: none yet:(

Johnny 'soap' McTavish 🧼: in the mood for him

Kyle 'gaz' Garrick 🚁: none yet:(

Multiple characters 🪖: goth gf series

Poly!141💏: ghost catches soap and reader

[ryuzakemo128]

Another Idea/ One shot

Pairing: Poly! 141 x Italian Mafia Princess

Content Warnings: Italian Mafia Princess, swearing, house party, female reader is wealthy beyond commercial means, college au, 141 are football players.

“I don’t care what you think. I have enough on my plate already. I already know I’m undateable and unfuckable. I don’t need you shoving it down my throat you cock sucking son of a bitch.” You snarled at them. You weren’t sure who you were angrier at, yourself or them.

Who would want to date a goth girl like you anyway?

The one studying death like its your own soul laid to rest into the fresh soil beneath your feet.

Who were they to deny you from dating someone else?

What you didn’t expect them to do was to ruin any potential dates you would have had with anyone else on the college campus. It frustrated you to no end. You didn’t need more protection than you already got from your father’s insistence on bodyguards.

The four of them that mocked you were pests in your finely groomed garden that you can’t seem to be rid of. “Ugh, please tell me you’re leaving to a house party to get drunk off cheap tasting beer or whatever. I cannot wait to be rid of you four. A moment of peace is long overdue.” You stated as you continued to study.

You had your plans written down in your study journal and everything. Tonight, it will be your first night of peace. Hopefully those four would decide to join a frat there and move while they were at it.

If they did decide to join one, you would have many nights of peace, right?

You were relaxing to Italian opera, eating pizza, giving yourself a well needed facial, while the shark documentary played on the television.

Though when John Price slept with you one night? You had hoped he would have forgotten it by now. You couldn’t wait for him to reveal that he was moving to frat house with his mates. You were hoping and praying for it.

You had assumed it was a moment of ‘weakness’ on his part and never brought it up in conversation. Not that you would have organically. Only that you did that for your own selfishness. If you could call it that.

As you were getting ready for bed after dinner, study and your moment of relaxation.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Soap, one of the four guys who had been giving you grief. It read, "Hey, we're actually throwing a house party tonight. Want to come?"

"I have a date with myself. I can't stand being with too many people at once. The infestation of noise is enough to wish for a swifter death than anything." you texted back hoping that would be the last of it.

But it wasn't.

As if the lord is laughing at your ‘mistake’ and ‘misfortune’ from right up above you. Not like you were a religious sort. You just enjoyed imagining the would be god as a fickle thing.

Soap texted back faster than you appreciated or had the time for. “Come on, you need to let loose. It'll be fun, I promise.”

“My kind of fun is Italian opera, pizza, a nice shark documentary in the background as I sip my lovely Italian wine as I lounge upon my couch. Therefore, I think I am regarded as ill-mannered and under dressed for the occasion.” A polite rejection. Wordy for someone like yourself. But a rejection all the same.

You added in, “I have nothing that will seem appealing to you in terms of attire. Therefore, henceforth, I shan’t bring myself to leave myself to leave my hearth under dressed.” You silently thank your father for that one.  

You hoped he would go back to whoever he was sticking his tongue down and leave you to your solitude of madness. Your hearth, home and bastion of pure tranquillity. Just it was back in Rome with your grandmother, and parents.

At least you were insulted or mocked there. You were while you were in ‘Great Britain’ or whatever it decided to call itself after Brexit occurred.

“Before you go talking ‘just wear what you have on’. You don’t get the art of dressing up. Nor do I expect you to enjoy the sight of it neither.” You sent back to Soap in a text hoping to ward him and his fuck buddies away from you. “And I can’t afford to miss out on my night alone. Before you complain, all house parties are the same shit in college. All about either getting high, getting laid or fighting in the front yard.”

“It’s all the same with you and quite frankly I don’t want more of it. I want less.” You texted rapidly.

Rapid enough for your nimble fingers at least.

You were sticking to your guns, weren’t you? You knew where you weren’t wanted, and you weren’t going to cross over that river anytime sooner or later.

“Like water and oil, I am sure you understand why your group and me will never belong together, never mix and always remain apart.” You added in for some final touches.

Divider Template: @cafekitsune