#141 au

[whoslibby]

the 141 treated you like you were fragile, you worked the exact same job as them but they treated you as though you were fragile like a flower.

it took months and months, of working, the pressure building up in the office. hearing witty remarks on whether or not you should go on this mission or that mission due to your capabilities.

there was only so long you could deal with such things. you blew up at the 141. having you shout at them all on how ridiculous they were acting for not letting you do the missions you knew you were able to do or even using certain guns ‘incase you hurt yourself’. you blew up at them and they realised, you weren’t fragile like a flower; more like a bomb.

this forced them to listen to you and it worked, it was just a matter of time you blew up on them atleast it was now instead of two years down the line when the explosion would of been worse.

[simonrillleyyysss]

Thoughts on doe!reader dealing with stags!141&könig?

Like them prancing around trying to get the reader interested. Some of them probably sparing to show off their strength. They’re just doing the best to impress you ! My thoughts are clouded by big men with antlers doing the most to impress 🦌

LOVE THISS!!

i love writing hybrids tbh

they’re all so competitive for you!! soap and gaz especially, they love one upping eachother—soap and gaz are so cocky, constantly bashing antlers in a quick rut infront of you just to show off their strength, gaz loves to hear congrats or praises fall from your lips when he wins; how could he not? it’s so addictive! will sometimes get hurt on purpose just to feel your hands patting his soft cheek :((

johnny is definitely the cockiest out of the crew, always sparring with ghost in an attempt to make himself seem much larger and dominant than he naturally is, constantly making witty jokes or wrapping his arm around you, bragging about how he would be the most successful service! will never win against ghost though, he knows his limits; will never refuse a fight though!

simon and sparring are two different things altogether, he will fight like it’s his last day on earth—constantly ruffling with soap and now and again price, who eventually submits and goes for a rest, this man loves to just fight infront of you— rutting his antlers against soaps with no effort, afterwards simon would forsure get you to clean his injuries, his poor bleeding nose, with green and black bruises covering his thighs and chest, he already knows your his, so why are you still fluttering your pretty doe eyes and batting your thick lashes, helping him fix his injured arm into a sling instead of letting him mount u :(

price loves himself, his horns are like no others—matured and experienced,he loves to show you his antlers, letting your hands run over the velvety horn, watching your eyes fixate in awe at the way they curled and bent uniquely, thick lips parted as he ruffled his hands through your hair, confidence bubbling inside the older man as you cooed praises and compliments , holding himself with pride

könig is the calmest, most reserved and poise— yet he will never shy away from another buck, he’s big like simon—well built and pure muscle, he will rarely rut infront of you out of fear of accidentally pushing into you, but he loves to show off his scars and recent marks, covered in a long scar trailing across his cheek—long hair dangled by his shoulders, he’s just a big natural man!

you just need to watch out, they can’t control themselves when it’s rutting season, and neither can you <3

[bug-is-snug]

starved pt. 2

part one

plot: you're a zombie <3 CW: depictions of violence, depictions of obsession, gore, self-cannibalism (stay safe cutiepies!), blood, gore, eventual smut (That means Minors DO NOT INTERACT), self harm (I think? I'm not sure but I'm adding it to be safe!), military inaccuracies, dead dove do not eat kinds of stuff

A/N: let me know if I missed anything with the content warnings! Also please forgive me for the terrible accents, I am but a small humble person with the brain made of v8 juice- Also some of this was written on mobile so forgive me if there are any grammar errors ^^; banner by: @frostthecupcake (deactivated) and found by using "Find A Banner"

You felt your face grow warm as your mind went back to the sight of your Captain's wrist. Well- mainly his veins...God, he had lovely veins... You imagined grabbing his arm and sinking your teeth in, tearing away at his skin and tendons with gnashing teeth...while you daydreamt you couldn't help but wonder; How sweet would his flesh taste? Shaking your head profusely, you let out a huff and continued to head off towards the barracks while ignoring the emptiness in your stomach. God, you could feel the blood running down your throat, warming you far better than any hard alcohol... "Stop it." You hissed quietly to yourself, as if you had any control over the thoughts that ran rampant in your mind, "Don't think at all, just shut up!"

Taking a moment, you lean up against the wall and desperately try to gather your thoughts. Your stomach growled almost angrily, making you let out a frustrated groan. "Hungry?" A familiar voice cooed playfully, their Scottish accent giving away their identity instantly. You look up to see Soap, your heart instantly beginning to race. Your eyes scanned over his body while your nose took in his scent, which allowed you to recognize that he had just gotten back from the shooting range, the smell of his musk and the gunpowder making your head swim. "Uh-" Christ, you sounded dumb, "Maybe? I dunno, I kinda skipped lunch today...though I do hear that your body can make you hungry when you're exhausted so- uh- maybe it's that?" ...WHAT? Where did that even come from?! What kind of stupid excuse is that?! Soap raised a brow, staring at you for a moment and giving away that he was also just as bewildered as you were over the shit you just said. "...I am going over here now." You quickly walked around him, attempting to make it to your room. "Hold on now, that dinnae make a lick o' sense. What's goin' on wi' ye?" A strong, calloused hand grasped at your forearm making your heart jump to your throat, "Ye alright, lovie?" You shuddered slightly, digging your nails into your palms as thoughts of tearing your precious teammate’s ribs apart and sinking your teeth into his heart while it still beats made you feel dizzy and your stomach ache. What would it taste like? Sweet? Savory? How much would you be able to devour before someone else stumbles upon the sight? You quickly interrupted your own thoughts as you blurted out, "I think I'm sick is all." Soap hummed and reached over, pressing his hand against your forehead. "Ye dinnae feel sick, ye feel cold to be honest, lovie..." He muttered. "Sarge-" You were cut off by his hands feeling up the scruff of your neck and under your jaw. "Sorry, mate. My mum used to do this to check if me or my siblings were sick..." His voice was low, as if he trying not to spook an injured animal. "Sarge, I'm fine, honest-!" You tried to reason with him. You knew he was telling you the truth, but you also knew how he was. To clarify, while the relationship between you and Soap was rather handsy it was usually a welcome action and when it wasn't, you would tell him and he would back off. The touches the two of you would share sometimes bordered on inappropriate, but it often didn't go much further than that. It was a very intimate relationship, one that could be missed if someone didn't have a trained eye. However, it wasn't quite romantic...just intimate and sometimes intense-

Looking into his eyes, you could tell that while he was indeed just checking up on you, there was a small sense of enjoyment at the fact you were letting him casually paw at your sensitive skin. You let out a soft hiss in pain when he pressed down on a particularly tender spot, "Johnny, too hard..." "Sorry, lovie..." Soap said quietly, letting go after a moment. "It's okay..." You assured him, "What's the prognosis, Doctor MacTavish?" He chuckled at your teasing and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest, "Yer feelin' a bit stiff is all. Probably from yer god-awful posture." "Then I am going to do what I was planning to do and go take a nap. I should probably tell Gaz...I was gonna eat lunch with him today..." You said, disappointment heavy in your voice. "I can tell 'im fer you, lovie. Dinnae ye worry yer little head ‘bout it." Soap smiled, reaching over and giving you an affectionate pat on the shoulder. A sigh left your lips as you gave him a relieved smile, "You'd really do that for me? Thank you, Johnny..." He smiled back, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder. "Yer welcome..." You playfully nudged his arm with your elbow which made him chuckle and give you a wink before he walked around you, leaving you on your own as you finally made it to your room. You remembered the last time you retreated to your room when feeling unwell while you stared at your bed, closing your door behind you. It was a few days after the attack... Your body felt like it was on fire, especially where that damn doctor had bitten you. Your heart raced and your arm felt like your veins had poison coursing through them. You had refused to let anyone know, nor let anyone take care of you going as far as to barricade the door. Stupid? Yes, but what were you supposed to do? Let the teammates whom you trust your life with every single day know you're unwell? Ask them for help because they're your found family and you would drop everything to take care of them if they were in this state because you love and cherish them as people? Cringe- You groaned in pain, curling up in your little bed while digging your nails into the fabric, tearing them effortlessly much to your surprise. "What the fuck?" You huffed out, grimacing as you stare at the ruined sheets, "I just bought those..." Was that what you should have been worried about? Absolutely not, but you have to cope somehow. The pain was unbearable, but the worst of it was the fever and the fever dreams that came along with them. Well, you called them fever dreams; they actually appeared in your mind when you were awake. And most of them were really just...urges... Visions of ripping people apart filled your mind. It felt so real...you could feel your fingers digging into some faceless person's skin, tearing apart their flesh and ripping apart their ribs while they screamed and thrashed. The more skeptical part of your mind shoved it off as just an edgy little thought that you had as a courtesy of watching so many horror movies with Gaz, just a silly little spout of aggression. No, it was the thought of eating the person that got you to worry. It was the thought of burying your face into their warm body and sinking your teeth into their heart that scared you. The worst part of it was the fact that your stomach growled every time you imagined chewing and swallowing, like a forbidden fruit... Blood spilling down your chin like you had just bit into an apple after days of neglecting your hunger became a feeling you craved desperately. "Please just be a really fucked up version of the flu..." You whispered, "I swear to everything that is good and holy if it's not-" You were interrupted by a sudden sharp pain in your stomach, making you cry out. Burying your face into your pillow, you let out a quiet sob while you clung to it. Somehow, you felt embarrassed about how much pain you felt. You've taken bullets for fuck's sake! You have broken bones, dislocated joints-! And a little stomachache is making you cry?!

"What the fuck...?" You muttered, wiping the sweat from your forehead. Upon seeing the literal puddle of it in your hand you cringed, “Mm…that’s nasty…”

Sitting up, you use the headboard of your bed to keep you steady while your head pounds and begs you to lay back down. You huff, leaning your head against your arm for a moment. This fucking sucks. There is no denying it!

Your nose is pressed against your flesh, and you catch a whiff of yourself…Oh my…

Your stomach beckons you, and in that moment, you don’t even care. How can you? You’re starving!

So…

Without a second thought…

You sink your teeth into your wrist with a sickening squelch, tearing through veins and muscle. And, God, if it didn’t taste lovely…

Back To Current Day…

You sit down on your bed, running your fingers over the stitching you had done over the once torn sheets. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough!

With a sigh, you lean against the wall, staring at the ceiling as you reach over and gently touch your forearm, your fingertips sliding across the edge of the bandage. You didn’t really want to check if the wound was still there…but you didn’t want it to get infected either.

Your eyes glance down as you kicked off your shoes, scooting into your bed while your hand slowly peeled the bandaid off. You expected infection…a festering, pulsing and pus filled one…however, there was nothing. Your wrist was completely healed, like nothing happened-! How…?

You shake your head as hard as you can, as if it would shake the thoughts away. You ball the bandaid up and go to the trashcan, tossing it before going to your sink and rinsing your hands off. This isn’t so bad, right? It’s- er- not ideal, but it’s something! Maybe you should keep a journal of your changes- No. Too risky. If anyone found it…

Your eyes closed as you lean against the counter, inhaling through your nose while your leg bounce uncomfortably, “I can’t see a doctor…I really should but-! …What if I hurt someone…?”

You found yourself doing that a lot; whispering to yourself, fighting yourself…etc…

But that’s neither here nor there, it’s time to eat.

You started to head to your mini fridge, kneeling down before it and opening it up to take a package of raw meat out. You tear it open with your finger, feeling yourself begin to shake…

Shoveling raw meat into your mouth was not a good feeling. Did it scratch that lizard part of your brain? Yes. But social norms taught you to be disgusted with such bad manners-! However…as you sunk your teeth into the raw chicken breast, you ripped and tore away at it, feeling yourself grow more and more ravenous as it you continued. It tasted pretty okay for the most part, which is what surprised you the most.

Tasted like chicken, obviously, but the raw flavor added to it somehow? It was so hard to describe! But…then those thoughts came…

You were imaging the meat belonging to Soap, your beloved teammate. You felt so dirty and perverted…

‘This isn’t normal,’ You reminded yourself, ‘This is NOT. NORMAL!’

You didn’t even realize someone else had entered your room until they cleared their throat, making you snap your attention to whomever it was.

Oh shit.

[love-lilly02]

The Challenge: Chapter 6

Chapter warnings: Talk of insomnia, torture, not eating, depression, brief hyperseuxual mention, physical and mental scars, nightmares (please let me know if i missed any or if any need to be added!)

“MIA”

The words bore into his mind, tore a hole in his frontal lobe. He felt like he was drowning, sinking deeper into a black pit, the dark whispers of your voice and the blaring words of black text against a white screen. 

“MIA”

They haunted him, day and night, hour after hour. when he blinked the words were there, when he ate the hologram of them passed in his view. 

Never, in his life had he had to suffer with someone being marked as MIA. he had dealt with deaths, he had survived both others trauma along side his own. He had watched teammates get blown up, shot down, stabbed dozens of times. 

They all recovered or died. 

None of them went missing. 

None of them haunted him like you did. 

Sometimes, he would hear your voice calling to him. He could be filing paperwork, sitting in the mess hall, doing fucking anything. 

And you were there. 

Asking him to double check your mission reports, wondering what he was doing, if he was hungry, wanted to get something to eat. Sometimes, he would swear on his boys life that you were behind him, sneaking up to scare him like you always did. and he would wait, see if you realized he had heard you coming from a mile away, heard you whisper “scare cam” into your phone camera. He waited and waited, till your calming presence turned into a threatening one, till you weren’t holding a camera but a knife, a gun to his head. 

Those were the worst. That and the nightmares. 

He had stopped sleeping since you left, to afraid of the version of you he saw in his dreams. You terrified him, and not in the good way you used too. You would kick and scream at him, say it was his fault for allowing the mission, his fault for not watching you closer, his fault you disappeared. You would scream and beg the Russians to leave you alone, sob that you didn’t know anything, you had no clue what was going on, who they were, that you just wanted to go home. 

You wanted your boys.

And you would scream for their help, call each of their names in turn. That’s what always got him, hearing your blood curdling scream as you were cut into again, burned again, slapped again. And every time he screamed back, every time he tried to move, tried to help you, but he was rooted in place, stuck in this hell forever. 

Yeah. Sleep became a foreign concept. 

The others noticed. Of course they noticed. Each of them had their own way of dealing with your disappearance, but it showed. Simon would have to double wrap his hands at the gym, Kyle stopped eating for weeks at a time. Johnny was just quiet. 

It scared him. Your loss scared him. It scared him how loosing one person was able to break apart his team, the men who made it through thick and thin. And he had seen these same men live without each other, on solo ops or when one of them was hurt. They missed each other, sure. And it hurt like fuck to not have the other fourth there, like a piece was missing. 

But not this. Never this. 

This was new. This was raw, this was foreign. 

This was hell. 

And as far as he knew, no one was lucky enough to crawl out of it alive. 

Exhaustion tugged at your body, dragging you down with every step.

sleep was a foreign concept, something you abandoned back at the Russian base. 

You abandoned a lot at that base. 

You abandoned them. 

You told yourself that they didn’t care, they didn’t give a fuck if you left the team. They wouldn’t care if you never came back, if you just disappeared without a trace. Protocol stated that, with the way you went out, you were to be declared as MIA for seven years before you could be presumed to be dead. It wouldn’t take you seven years to get back to base, but it would take you way longer to get over what happened. 

Much. Much longer.

It was an illusion, honestly. Something all basic magicians could perform, but not with a grenade. It was that or be shot down, although you were beginning to think being shot was the better option. It was certainly easier to deal with a bullet wound than second degree burns. 

Maybe. You had never been shot before, who were you to know? 

Anything had to be better than this. The burns scraped against the material of your suit, sending your body into intense amounts of pain with every step. It felt like someone was pulling you through a cheese grater, constantly, until you were nothing but shredded meat and skin. 

The price you have to pay to live. 

In order for the “trick” to work, you had to throw the grenade right at your feet. Which meant that your soles and legs were the most burnt, whereas your torso and upper body only suffered mild burns. Your hands were done for, completely charred to the point you could hardly flex your fingers anymore. 

The reasoning behind that was your escape. Once you had thrown the grenade down, you used the five seconds it bought you to flip over the drain cover you were standing next too, effectively falling into the sewers and out of bullet range. 

The cover, however, was red hot from the impact. 

You would take it over being a goner. 

Everyone else probably thought you were dead, or had died from the resulting explosion. You didn’t know if enough blood was left for it to be believable, you hoped so at least, that bought you some time. Immediately upon hitting the water you went radio silent, cringing at the disgusting slop that came up to your waist. Being in the water helped a bit, allowed the burns to be surrounded by something that was at least cool. 

Open air did the exact opposite. 

You weren’t sure exactly where you were, some rural town in Russia, that’s for sure. The only reason you could tell that was because of the signs that you saw every so often, each one written on in their harsh language. Of all the things you studied, Russian was among your least favorite, and while you were conversational you couldn’t read it to save your life. 

A fucking shame, really. 

Which left you to the next best thing, pray to some god for a way out of this hell. 

There was a list of things Johnny McTavish hated to do. It wasn’t a very long list, but it was there, in some corner of his mind. 

He hated being forced to stay still, he hated being told to be quiet when he was overexcited. He hated confined spaces, and— in the wrong situations— he hated being tied up. 

But the number one thing on that list, the thing he despised the absolute most was disappointing his boys. Tied, of course, with making them worry. Just the thought was enough to make him spiral, a fact that had been proven dozens of times. 

And a fact that was not helping his case right now. 

Truth be told, he didn’t mean to switch up on them. He understood that they were used to Johnny always being loud and obnoxious, that it was something they had come to love about him, how even in their worst moments he was able to at least make them smile. 

Which was the problem. This was a pretty bad moment, and he couldn’t even make himself smile. 

And he had tried, honestly. Not in front of the others— he couldn’t embarrass himself like that— but alone, he tried doing some of the things he would do on a good day. Drawing, dancing, cleaning his rifles. 

But he just… couldn’t. 

Johnny was no stranger to depressive episodes, he experienced them all the time in his youth. Of course, back then he would have a quick fuck and make himself feel better, or maybe a few rounds from a few different people, but now adays that old trick didn’t work anymore. Usually he would just stay with Simon, talk it through with him. 

But that wasn’t really possible. Not with this problem. 

He hadn’t realized just how much the team was dependent on your being there, how different things were without your presence. You balanced things out perfectly, acted as a moderator for the four of them. 

It was no surprise they fell for you. Anyone would have, after all. 

It kind of reminded him of some Shakespeare play, or like a hallmark movie. They found you, fell in love, never said anything, and they lost you. 

In any other situation that thought would have made him chuckle. 

Now it just makes him even sadder. 

He wants to help, he wants to do something. He wishes he could make the nightmares Price has go away, he wishes he could make Simon understand that no amount of training could prepare him for the situation you had found yourself in. He wished he could make Gaz eat something, anything, with the thought that you wouldn’t want him to starve, you wouldn’t want anyone to hurt themselves in the way the four of them were doing.

That didn’t stop them from doing it, of course, but he still wished.

Salvation came in the form of a video. 

Gaz had called a mandatory meeting, claiming it was something of the utmost importance. They all met in Prices office, cramping into the small space. 

Soap and Ghost took a seat on the couch, leaning into each other slightly. Price stayed at his desk, mounds of paperwork shoved to the side for Gaz to sit, perched as if he would have to make a run for something at any given moment. 

They stayed quiet for a while, all of them just drinking in the atmosphere. 

This wasn’t unusual, being called into the office like this. Usually it was by Price, who wanted to either scold them for their behavior or inform them of a mission. The only difference was your absence, your spot on the doorway glaringly empty. It felt like a black hole, sucking them deeper and deeper into their depression. The tense silence of the room didn’t help at all, and it was making each of them antsy. 

“Right.” Gaz said simply. “Gonna keep this brief, then.”

He removed a computer— which the others hadn’t noticed was there— from his lap and placed it on the desk for everyone to see. A video was pulled up, paused on a black screen. 

“Not before her junior year, but it’s bloody close.” Gaz mumbled, clicking start on the video. 

After a few seconds of silence, your face came up on the screen, sitting next to a girl they don’t recognize. She begins talking first, introducing herself as Amy. Your voice fills the room next, proudly saying your name and grade, the very beginning of your junior year. You opened your mouth to keep going, before Amy turned to you and laughed. 

“Fuck wait I forgot my grade.” You stared at her for a while, and then rolled your eyes, cutting the footage. The video resumed in much of the same fashion, and they realized what this was. 

A blooper reel, for something you had tried auditioning for. 

As the video continued, it slowly became more clear what the audition was— a performance at your school. You and your friend kept goofing off during the recording, resulting in multiple takes of one clip, regardless of how long it was. For some of them, you would press record and step away from the camera, then just start laughing uncontrollably. 

It took a long time to realize that they had forgotten your laugh. Having gone weeks without hearing it was hard, and watching a younger, clearly happier you laugh so freely was odd for them to see. Your face was just about clear, missing some of the scars you now possessed from your years of experience with field work. 

You were right, you did look different. 

“Where did you find this?” Price asked, leaning forward. The glasses he used to read had long ago been thrown on the desk, all his attention on the computer in front of him. 

“Did some digging.” Was all Gaz said. 

It was all the answer they needed. 

They watched the video all the way through the end, and when it finished they watched it again. And again. Till the sound of your laugh was engraved in their minds, till they were able to smile along with your jokes without having to wait for your explanation, till it felt like you were right in the room with them. 

Finally, the video stopped repeating, and the office was quiet again. Simon tugged off the mask and ran a hand over his face, signing loudly. “She’s got seven years before we can jump to conclusions.”

“I think if i tried to jump right now, I’d fall flat on my face.” Price said, leaning back in his chair. The office went silent again, before a quiet chuckle came from Soap. He covered his moth quickly, failing to suppress his giggles at Price's statement. 

If there was one thing the boys loved about Johnny it’s that his laughter was infectious. Once he started laughing, Gaz was smiling at him, and Ghost was smiling at Gaz’s smiling at Soap’s laughter. Eventually they were all giggling, each at each other in turn.  

“Fuck—“ Soap said, wiping a tear from his eye. “Even when she’s not ‘ere she’s makin’ us laugh.” 

“She’ll be back. Seven years couldn’t keep our girl away from us.”

“Our girl, eh?” Simon asked, throwing an arm around Johnny’s shoulders. Soap leaned into Simon’s side, smiling against his chest. 

“Our girl.” Price confirmed, nodding. “No matter what happens, challenge be dammed, she’s our girl. Nothing’s changing it.”

“Excuse me sir? Do you speak english?”

“We no take foreigners-“

“Please—“ You begged, looking at him with your best puppy dog eyes. You watch as his gaze trails up and down your body, stopping at the marks on your hands. "Please I really need your help.”

The man looks around for a moment, double checking that no one is around before he grabs you by your collar and pulls you inside harshly. He closes the door, grumbling for you to sit in the kitchen.

You follow his instruction, taking a seat in the too cramped space. You watch as he moves around the room, throwing things into a pot and getting different medicines from the cabinets, mumbling to himself in Russian all the time.

After a few moments of tense silence, the man places a small container full of white ointment on the table.

"Will help with burns," He says.

As if that explains anything?

You let it go, however and smile at him in thanks. The moment you put the cream on your hands you fight the urge to scream at just how badly it burns, opting instead to bite your tounge till you can taste the blood in your mouth.

The man watches you struggle, and takes a seat across from you.

“You American spy?”

“No, sir, I just work for the army.” 

The man nods, standing up “You will have more burns, I leave you to apply the rest.”

He walks out of the kitchen, and you hear the closing of a door some feet away. For a brief moment, you consider the thought that he might have cameras in the kitchen, that he's watching you on his phone through the system.

Just as quickly, you dismiss the thought. The man is absolutely huge, not Simon level but pretty close. If he wanted to do something to you he would have.

As it did with your hands, the ointment burned on each part of your body. It was like getting blown up all over again, and you kept your teeth grit so as to not scream out. Once you finish, however, you do feel better.

Slightly.

You leave the kitchen, wrapping the tatters of your suit around your body in a makeshift robe. Just outside of the room you see a set of clothes laid out, as well as a pair of gloves that look slightly too large for your hand size.

By the time you finish dressing, the man is back, carrying some vegetables with him.

“Who do you work for?” He asks, grabbing a knife from a drawer. You watch in awe as he makes quick work of the mound of food that was in his hands, throwing it into the pot without a second glance.

“A task force, sir.”

“The one four one?”

The room is dead quiet. For a moment, the only sound that can be heard is the boiling of water, and you take a cautious step back towards the front door. Running isn't something you want to do, and you're pretty sure it's not something you're 100% capable of, but if you had to get out of here you were willing to risk your health further.

Anyways, you still had that ointment. Technically that's all you really needed, and he wouldn't have given it to you if he didn't want you to use it.

“How did you-"

“Nikolai." He interrupts, holding out his hand. "I worked with them a long time ago."

You remember the name, it was heard in dozens of the stories Gaz and Price have told you about their missions before you joined. You take his hand, biting back a wince at the sting of your burns against the gloves.

“Do you think you could help me get back?” 

AN: VERY IMPORTANT INFORMATION

Hey guys, so while technically this is late i was hoping we could just ignore that fact for a while. If you couldn't tell by the contents of this chapter, this fic is going to take a darker turn than i even thought (this whole thing is written on impulse, i only have the reader's backstory planned and that's it) Future chapters will feature mental health issues, and some abuse so i just wanted to release an early viewer discretion to warn anyone who wouldn't be comfortable reading that stuff.

I promise i'll give you guys a fluffy BTS to make up for this angst bomb. Hope you enjoyed!

My Masterlist

[cordeliawhohung]

greek mythology au where reader is Aphrodite, a beautiful maiden who is loved and admired by all, but is forced to marry the ugly blacksmith, Hephaestus/Simon Riley.

[blingblong55]

The tiny problems- 141

Based on a request:

I've had this brain worm for the last 2 weeks and I cant get it out. Do you think you could write something with Cod G/t? I'm thinking like a fic with a tiny!y/n, ghost, soap and gaz and giant!price. Maybe something like Price finding little borrowers in his office taking things off his desk? Thank you sm! I love your writing so much!! P.s. I might be sending this same cod g/t kind of prompt to other authors as well. I WILL BE CHANGING THE PROMPT! I just want to see everyone's take on cod g/t. So if you're uncomfortable with multiple authors also writing something maybe similar to this, I understand and you can just ignore this. Thank you🩷🩷 ---- GN!Reader, tiny/giant au, tiny!RN, tiny!Soap, tiny!Gaz, tiny!Ghost, gentle giant!Price, fluff, platonic!relationship ----

A/N: I Fell in love with this idea so…here I am

It is unique, to be Price and live in a comfortable home and have his kind of problems. He lived alone, far from society, and in the woods, it was cosy. Cosy cabin, with delicious food, and a nice fireplace. What more could a man his height need?

Every day, he would sit on his desk, and read the local newspaper and some books. He would laugh or shake his head when he would read some paragraph. Little did he know, he had some of the cutest and tiniest infestations in his home. Ghost, Gaz, Soap and R/N, tiny humans that live in the woods and who have found a home in the Giant Man's home, Price. As the day went on for John, he noticed a few things move around his home. His coffee mug, reading glasses and bonnie hat, all moved around his home.

At night, he heard something move and he rushed to look around his home for any intruder. And then he saw it, his hat moved across his desk and a little foot could still be seen. He sighs, a baseball bat in hand, he lifts the hat and the four tiny humans scream. Price is about to swing the bat when he puts it down, "What the hell-?" he kneels and looks at the tiny humans on his desk. Soap has R/N hidden behind him, Ghost guarding Gaz. "What are you doing here?" Price asks softly. "We needed shelter for the winter." Ghost responds.

"Shelter?"

"Yes, the winter is coming and our home was ruined." Soap says.

"hm, and you have been without a home so…you came to mine?"

"Yes and we are sorry for not saying a word but we didn't expect a.. well-" Ghost replies.

"Giant?"

"Yes, a giant like yourself to live here," Gaz says

"Who is the other little one?" Price asks about you.

"Oh this is R/N, they are a little shy."

From behind Soap, you wave at Price. "Look, you all look old enough to be adults, so we'll make a deal, I let you live here as long as you don't go moving my stuff around or disturbing my peace."

"You got a deal," Ghost took his hand out, Price confused gave his index finger to shake hands with Ghost. "So, what are all of your names?" "I'm Ghost, this is Gaz, Soap and R/N." "Right, well, good night." Price walks back out, probably thinking this was just some weird dream after eating that soup for dinner.

By morning, he woke up to the smell of wood burning and after a rush to the fireplace, he found the four tiny humans all cuddled together near a small fire. He sighs and goes to his room for something to cover them all up with. After looking through clean laundry, he finds an old scarf, which he then places on you all and sighs. He cooked breakfast, went out of his way served a small plate for the four humans to share and then whistled. Soap being the first to get startled wakes the others up. "Oi, I made breakfast, you either come or I give it to the dog." And just like that, he found himself helping the four tiny humans to the table.

Days turned to weeks and months. Price eventually stopped rolling his eyes at Soap's jokes or Gaz's questions and soon found himself making little chairs, spoons, plates, beds, and ladders. He dedicated a room all to the four humans who brought purpose to his life once more. As the harsh January winter arrives, he finds that his little companions begin to sleep in his bed. When asked, R/N responded, "You bring us some comfort and…your bed is the cosiest and warmest of all."

These little friends he created became his lifeline, if he was sick, if he was tired, sad, happy, or emotional, they were there for him and him for them. Soon enough, when Spring arrives, Price lets them know it is okay to stay, that they have become a part of his daily life and he would enjoy their company all year round and when he says it, Ghost appears with an offering.

A handmade scarf, made from the tiny hands of his tiny and funny friends. Now, as he finds new things he is passionate about, he also finds new things to love about the world around him. For example, he loves that now, he doesn't have an empty home, there are people he can finally talk to and even though his problems seem different to theirs, the problems all seem to be equal in some ways.

Tiny problems, now becoming his reason to smile and laugh and even the very reason why he finds himself learning how to cook and wrap birthday or Christmas gifts. In this world, there are many problems and sometimes, if John knows he is looking too deep into them, he can take a step back and look at his four favourite tiny problems.

Tags:

@warenai @liyanahelena @avaleigh16 @the-royal-bee @enarien @johfaam0 @froggy-anon @goldenmclaren @frazie99 @spicypicklesoh @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @saoirse06

[sheeple]

More CoD thoughts!! This time medieval!au with concubine!König Warning(s): fem!reader (idk if that is a warning but good to know) / I canon (this) König as blond FIGHT ME pls don't / a mention of brushing hair (do I have to mention is? idk)

So imagine you are an empress

And König is this colonel who has fallen from grace. He lost a battle or something which resulted in many men dead

And now he's on his knees in front of you, face downcast and awaiting your judgement

You're sitting up on your throne and watching the man, thinking deeply about what to do with him

Yes, he made a mistake and your people expect him to be punished for it. But you can't deny that he has been a great strategist

"Leave us", you order

Once everybody has left the throne room, you stand up and saunter down the stairs, dragging your skirts behind you

Circling the crouching man, you trace his shoulders

"Remove your helmet, colonel."

His hands falter for a moment before he reaches up and reveals his scared face

Light blue eyes look up at you as blond hair falls into them

Finding him way too handsome to kill, you give him a proposition

Be your war advisor disguised as a concubine

Because he needs to be 'punished' in the eyes of your subjects, but also all your war and army advisors haven't been on a battlefield for decades and are idiots

Your advisor of royal customs has also been pestering you about finding a husband or starting a harem (as you dismissed your father's concubines the moment you took over the throne)

Two birds with one stone

König hates the idea at first, but he knows it's better than being executed

But he realises once he is led to his chambers that maybe this isn't soooo bad

It's the first time in years that he sleeps on a decent bed and has quality food in his belly so he's not complaining

The first time König joins you in your strategy meetings, he scares the crap out of your advisors

I mean... the man is two metres tall, bulky and has scars all over his body

It also doesn't help that he is shirtless, so his battle scars are on full display

Every time one of your advisors says something stupid or something he doesn't agree with, König grunts/scoffs

It makes you turn your head towards him and he bows down to whisper in your ear what he has to say

10/10 times he's right

And your advisors quickly realise that the man knows what he's talking about, that he's not just a concubine that you keep bringing with you

They hate him

One thing that König has been dreading is being called to your chambers. He knows it is the job of a concubine to please his empress, but he was forced into this position

So, when he is called to your chambers one evening, he mentally prepares for the worst

Except, it's not like that

When he's let into your room by the royal guards, he finds you seated at a table set for two people with a beaming smile

You raise to your feet as König bows deeply

"Come, join me for supper."

He's sceptical at first, expecting a catch

But you reassure him with a laugh that you won't force him to do anything he's opposed and that it's just a dinner

You ask questions about his life in the army and where he grew up, about how his youth was

It becomes a daily ritual for the both of you

In the beginning, you have to invite him. But after a while, he makes his way to your chambers on his own. It evolves to you finding him already lounging around when you come back from your duties of the day

One day, he helps you undo your miraculously crafted hairdo and since then it has become something that he just does as you wait for the servants to set the table and bring the food out

You close your eyes content as König rakes a comb through your hair, working out the knots

Eventually, you and König feel the need to spend more time together

It goes from you reading in your private gardens and him swinging a sword around

To him joining you for your day whenever he can and acting like an unofficial bodyguard

He scares off any and everyone who he deems too close to his empress

I personally would be spooked if this two-metre-tall, scantly clad man loomed over the shoulder of the person I try to talk to

It's not long before König starts to develop feelings for you

He knows that it's wrong

But it's the way you're looking at him, treating him like an equal and laughing at his stupid jokes that make his heart flutter every time you do so

He snaps one day when you and him are in your gardens

You have your head resting on his thigh as you read out loud your book, your body fully relaxed in the warmth of the sun and the shade of the trees

König watches how the sun makes your eyes look magical

It makes the butterflies in his belly go on a rampage

Deciding he can't handle you being so close to him anymore, he excuses himself and flees to the safety of his room

It confuses you

But it breaks your heart when he doesn't join you for dinner anymore

You go over your interactions with him in your head, in search of anything that warrants this behaviour

The only time that you see him is when there is a war council, but he keeps quiet and doesn't interject any of your advisors and generals

Your mood sours the longer it goes on, genuinely scaring your servants and the lords

Their usually happy and chatty empress has transformed into a shell and slowly dulls in colour

You don't notice it until your lady-in-waiting suggests you take a break to your summer home for a couple of weeks

So, arrangements are made and your more breathable clothes are packed into trunks and placed on the carriages

You hesitate in front of König's door, not sure if you should ask him if he wants to come with

He has been ignoring you for a while now

So, decide against it and just leave

You sunbath and swim in the ocean all wearing thin, white summer dresses that turn see-through when wet

Your lady-in-waiting sits on the side, her feet in the water as she watches you

"Empress, may I speak freely?"

And after you nod her question makes you choke

"Does the imperial concubine not please you anymore?"

Meanwhile, back at the castle...

König is driving himself mad

He has to be close to you, even if it means to be an actual concubine

So imagine his surprise when he can't find you anywhere and a servant tells him you're at your summer palace

He immediately goes to grab a horse and hurries towards you

You're quite shocked to see a panicked könig arrive and stumble over his feet to get to you

He drops to his knees as you sit in the dining room, his head hanging in shame and chest rising rapidly

"Please...", he begs, "my foolish heart has been stolen by you and I can't live like this anymore. Please, my empress, I would do anything for just a smidge of affection from you. Just say it and it's yours. I'll steal the moon and stars for you. I'll... I'll be naked and ready for you every night to do with me as you please. Be an obedient concubine. Just please..."

You lay a hand on his cheek and the man whimpers as he looks up at you with tears in his eyes

"You foolish man."

You kiss him with all your might, stealing his breath away

"You were always more than just my concubine."

[v1x3n]

BIG FAT IMPORTANT ASK!!!

if the 141 were teachers what would they teach???

i was thinking price = history

and idk about the others😭

give me ur ideas please!!!

141 teacher au is out!! = mohawk

[hallo-anon]

141!Monster au Part 2

Banshee!Roach who blew out Simon's eardrums before he died, then took a vow never to speak again

Barguest!Alex who has dog-like features(Ears, tail, legs) and gets commonly mistaken for a werewolf

Shahmaran!Farah who has the bottom half of a Arabian Horned Viper with the horns on her forehead as well

Alebrijes!Alejandro who can shapeshift, but it can only be into a hybrid of 2 or more animals with very wacky and eccentric colors

Comaztoz!Rudy who has horrible vision and amazing hearing, to the point he has to wear sound dampening earplugs half the time

Quetzalcoatl!Valeria who's human form has scales and feathers down her spine, arms, and legs but no wings

Banshee!Roach who has to have bronze dog tags because he can't touch iron

Barguest!Alex who can smell death and knows when a soldier can't be saved

Shahmaran!Farah who keeps it a secret that her blood has healing capabilities

Alebrijes!Alejandro who has to cover up head to toe on stealth ops cause he glows in the dark

Camaztoz!Rudy who has large bat wings and accidently scares the shit out of people at night

Quetzalcoatl!Valeria who huffs out smoke when aggravated due to her ability to breathe fire

[loadedberetta]

musician/rockstar au; rock band

band 141??? hello???

Ghost drummer; has one song he sings and nothing else it's angsty and makes your heart and pussy throb. in the back part of the stage behind the drums on an elevated platform giving menacing

Soap solo guitar and vocals he's reckless like that (the mohawk is !!!!!); he just recently confirmed his and Ghost's relationship in an insta story that the band Instagram reposted

Gaz main vocal; occasionally guitar and has a piano song GIVE PRETTY BOY Spotlight!!! I just imagine him having the prettiest nastiest voice in the universe; he's a womanizer/maneater (being on his Instagram in the back of a backstage shot is every fan's idea of 5 minutes of fame)

Price's low rumbly vocal extras...the bassist. he's the chill older dude; like the person who made a band and the other members slowly got replaced by new blood. he used to have long hair back when he was young and in his glory days (doesn't mean he's not hot anymore; he's constantly edited to the band's music). he's in an open relationship, and occasionally joins Kyle to have some backstage fun

(and yes they'll tour close to your town if you are lucky and they answer your dm; after following you back on the band IG)

[bug-is-snug]

starved

inspired by @groguspicklejar (you are so good at atmosphere omgggg???)

Part two

plot: you're a zombie babe <3 put y'all seatbelts on CW: depictions of violence, depictions of obsession, gore, eventual self-cannibalism (stay safe besties), blood, gore, eventual smut banner by: @frostthecupcake (deactivated) and found by using "Find A Banner" A/N: This is my first time posting a fanfic of mine! Please be gentle with me ;-;

'I am starving...' The words were so familiar to you that you barely registered that they echoed the moment you saw your Captain's exposed wrist. Captain John Price, a stern and loyal man. He always made you feel safe...he always made you... Hungry. You inhaled sharply as you looked up at your Captain, finally registering that he had been calling your name. "Are you alright, love?" His usual tone had taken one of concern as his eyes stared into your own. "Ah-" You smiled nervously as you nodded, "Yes, sir, I'm fine. Just...deep in thought, I guess! What were you asking me?" "I was asking if you had gotten your paperwork done yet. You look exhausted." He stood up straight, crossing his arms over his chest as his raised a brow. Perhaps your narrator should explain; it started around... Three months ago...

It was supposed to be a good Ol' typical hostage situation. Get the hostage, get a Medevac if needed, another easy adventure for our favorite Task Force! Right? Oh, how terribly wrong you were. Nothing could have prepared you for the moment you were slammed against a wall by the hostage no less! You had been sent in to grab the scientist! A scientist! Some little nerd working on bioweapons! Surely, they wouldn't be aggressive, right? The wind was knocked from your lungs as you tried your best to fend off your attacker. His snapping teeth dangerously close to your neck as you forced his head back with one hand, your arm shoving him away by his shoulder. Why did you have to be so stubborn? Why didn't you just let Soap help you? Why did you INSIST on going in alone?! Why couldn't you just accept help?! You couldn't contain your scream as the doctor sunk his teeth into your exposed wrist, the smell of rot and blood immediately clouding your brain and making you dizzy. The rest of that mission was fuzzy, really... You don't remember Soap immediately coming to your aid the moment he heard your scream from down the hall. You don't remember fainting. You don't remember a lot of that day after the attack... Back to the current day, "Y-yeah, yeah- no- uh.." You stumbled over your words as you rubbed your face, "I've just not been sleepin' too well. Sorry, Cap." A half-lie...you could tell Price didn't buy it either, but what else could you say? What were you supposed to do? Tell him how you've dreamt of sinking your teeth into his neck the night after catching him walking back from a workout? Tell him how your heart ached when imagining yourself sinking your teeth into your Lieutenant's arm every time he offered your paperwork to you? How it takes everything in your body to stop yourself from licking the blood from Gaz's wounds when he gets a bump or scrape when in the field? Or how the smell of Johnny's sweat makes your head swim with thoughts of ripping his ribs apart with your bare hands? Obviously, you can't just say that! Wh- who even-? No! Just, no! So, you lie. You lie and lie and lie until you can't keep track of your lies anymore. "I think I just need to go to bed...Would that be okay?" You gave your Captain a forced smile that almost felt like a grimace. He stared with eyes that seemed to look right through you, "...Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt. Go rest up, love. I'm sure I can handle the rest from here." You sighed in relief, standing up and organizing your papers for a moment before giving your Captain an appreciative nod before you left the room. You could feel his eyes boring into the back of your skull as you walked away, but you didn't falter. Don't worry, darling, your team has noticed the lies. They've noticed your change in behavior. And it's only a matter of time until you slip up...

[dexterlittle]

Comics?

Hi Ghoap people! And shippers from the COD universe! I see comics are popular (Im also a sucker for those so dont worry!)

And I was wondering: What are the bare minimums for you to enjoy a comic? You see, I never really worked on a comic. I tried years ago for a project of some sort in my local area but never got anywhere. I always struggled with my art, perfection, proportion etc I put a lot of pressure on myself and projects a lot and either i dont do much effort or I do WAY too much and it burns me out. I get overwhelmed and it’s not fun. I am always feeling some imaginary pressure from others as I often got judged in the past and got my things examined closely and it started to get me paranoid and make me feel not good enough. Thats why I never published art before I joined Ghoap in over ten years or so. Im also terrified of art thieves and even more of all that AI shit going around. I want to be credited and known for my art, not be forgotten while my art keeps being reposted you know? SO if I were to make a comic (at least try) and tell a story, what are the bare minimums requirements? I see some comics have amazing art and I know I can’t deliver that. But I do see diversity of style from the 1Farm1 AU from Grimmzee to the Monster 141 AU from Bluegiragi to the CoffeeShop AU from Blueishfishfood and many more I’ve seen here and there. Some have backgrounds, some dont and some have simple elements. Some have amazing details and shading, some have basic shadings etc But what they all have in common is: getting proportions quite good if not excellent. And amazing angles instead of the basic standing/sitting. And all those nice facial expression that makes it nice to read what the character might feel. Especially the eyes for characters such as Ghost or Roach. Aaaand I know colors don’t matter. So at least there’s that. So what are the minimum requirements? I don’t expect doing amazing fight scenes like the Monster AU, I am clearly not that talented ahah but I know that it’s more interesting to have… something more than standing characters all the time. So please in the comments, let me know? Show me exemples? Doesnt have to be COD related but just comics from people around the internet who do it for fun and not professionals working for DC Comics for example ahah I just want to tell stories so badly but I know that writing is… a lot for me. Too much even. I’ll keep trying… but it’s complicated for now. And I know that comics are a great way to see your art get better with time! Lots of mangaka got better the more time passed so.. Why not me? Oh also another comic I’ve been following for years is A Tales of Two Rulers by Figmentforms And THAT is something I can never achieve. The attention to details and the shading and… UGH <3 But it still makes me want to tell a story. So please, comment and let me know! <3 Thank you! -Dexterlittle

[raffe156]

Love love love the answers for the 141 Au’s they are all perfect for Tank! I can just imagine her with her pretty zebra shark tail!

also the staffy? Perfect choice for her they are little tanks 😂

I’m crawling up the walls for Succubus monster Tank tormenting Dragon Price 👀 locking tails, locking horns 😳

It was a top set of questions! 💖

She would defo decorate her tail with shell bracelets she had found!

Staffies are the GOAT of dogs haha again I’m biased I have a blue staffy an he is perfection on four legs 🥰

Ahhh he would wake up to find her sitting on his window ledge at night haha that’s if he hadn’t already dragged her by said tail to his room 👀

[blingblong55]

Let me watch it-141

Price: Happy Birthday R/N!

Gaz: Make a wish!

R/N: *blows candles*

Soap: Let's eat cake

Ghost: *completely ignores Soap* What did you wish for?

R/N: Well...since I'm 26, I want to go on Pornhub and watch some video

Price: *spits water* R/N!

R/N: just once! please I need to see it

[sheeple]

Continuing from this Supersoldier!Reader hc I did a while back. Again, it's half-baked and I thought of it while walking my dogs.

The rain beats down on the umbrella above you as you stand before the grave. It's weird seeing your own name carved out of stone. At least they got your date of birth correct.

You wonder if they buried an empty coffin. Or that they scraped up what they thought were your remains.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight and you know that you've got company. You tilt your head to the side, not bothering to look at them. "I like the font you choose."

There is a scoff, and he goes to stand next to you. "So, Soap and Gaz were right. You're alive."

You hum. Your fingers tighten around the handle of the umbrella.

"And working for KorTac." It's said harshly. Rightly so. You glance up at the captain. His eyes are trained on the gravestone, a solemn look on his face. "If you wanted a transfer, you could have just said so…"

There is humour in his voice that doesn't meet his eyes.

Your lips part, not knowing what to say. "Nobody ever gave me a grave. Nobody cared enough to do so. But I guess that's what comes with being a government experiment." You're back staring at the gravestone.

The two of you stand next to each other in silence. Until Price finally asks the question all of them want to know. "Why did you leave us?"

Your breath hitches. You hesitate for a moment to tell the truth. But they deserve it. "The British government sold me to KorTac."

Another person approaches the two of you from the front, looming over you. Price hums, slowly nodding. He lays a hand on your shoulder while looking at your handler. "Colonel, keep our girl safe."

And with that, he walks away.

[grackles-hoard]

WIP!!!

When your horse knows you be crushing hardcore on that knight :)

just some doodles for @martuzzio 's amazing fic