#taskforce141 x reader

[python333]

task force 141 reacting to [reader] clinging to them — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the title says bb!! just some headcanons of the boys reacting to the reader clinging to them and basically following them around like a lost puppy!

relationships platonic!tf141 & reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

warnings written in 2nd person pov [you/your/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], non-scottish reader [or could be read as scottish with less of an accent], probably ooc :{

note this is so. self indulgent. BUT i need to get my thoughts out rn about these boys because its too much to contain my silly little brain won't let this go and i need to just hdjhsdfjdhj. if anyone wants to request something for me to write pls do it because this is the only thing thats gotten me out of my writers block.

JOHN "BRAVO SIX" PRICE

➥ i honestly don’t even think he’d notice at first.

➥ about a week after you’d gotten to know everyone on the team and started to get used to their quirks, you decide your target to cling onto is gonna be price… because why not?

➥ when i say cling i mean following him around like a lost puppy, just about watching his every move, basically being his shadow.

➥ it’s not until about three days of you doing this when he realizes you’re shadowing him.

➥ when he confronts you about it, it’s less of a confrontation and more like him saying “... do you need something?” and then brushing it off when you shake your head ‘no’.

➥ he’s not really irritated or angry about it, more confused but generally okay with it.

➥ so when he realizes you’re gonna be doing this often, he can’t tell whether he should feel honored or bothered.

➥ spoilers: he ends up feeling honored. it’s his fatherly instincts, y’all already know.

➥ he’s awkward about it at first, now that he actually knows you’re following him, he’s constantly checking over his shoulder and — yep, you’re still there.

➥ so he doesn’t confront you about it again, and just lets you follow him around, and once y’all get closer he teases you for following him around like a duckling would with its mother.

—

You’d been following Price around for a few days now. He hadn’t noticed so far, thank God, but he was definitely close to finding out. You could see the way he’d occasionally glance over his shoulder and see you following him, then keep eye contact with you for a moment before going on with his day — which really confused you at first, but who cares as long as he’s not stopping you? — and letting you follow him.

You had been following him out of habit. You didn’t mean to follow him in particular, it just… happened. Something about his demeanor, you’d convinced yourself, He just feels safe. It’s inexplicable and we will not be diving into my underlying issues to figure out why he feels safe.

So when he’d confronted you about it—or, asked you about it is probably more accurate—with a questioning tone and the words, “Did you need something?”, you shook your head ‘no’, and that was that. The older man had looked at you for another second, eyes looking over your expression as if trying to read you like a book, then went on with his day. You had let out a sigh of relief, and continued your little routine of following him around and being his little shadow.

—

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

➥ he’s such a silly guy, man.

➥ he’d notice but pretend he didn’t, just for the sake of seeing how long you’ll follow him.

➥ if anyone points out your presence he’ll ignore it and change the subject.

➥ of course, once he realizes you aren’t letting up your clinginess, he confronts you about it in the most professional way possible!

➥ “Do ye trail everyone ‘round like that, or am I jist special?”

➥ it takes you a moment to figure out what he just said because holy fuck that accent is THICK.

➥ but you figure it out after a quick moment of thinking and struggle to respond, before offering a quiet, “... Uh. I guess you’re just special?”

➥ he is very happy about this.

➥ he nods approvingly and goes on with his day, letting you trail behind him.

➥ he really doesn’t mind, and actually enjoys having you trail behind him.

—

Following around Soap was more of a challenge than you’d intended. It was fun, for the most part, and you liked that he didn’t acknowledge you at all. The main reason you had kept following him was because he didn’t bother you at all, and didn’t even glance back at you as you followed him, no, he simply let you follow him around and shadow him all day.

Of course, you still had training and practice, but the moment you had gotten out of the showers and were done for the day, you’d gone back to following Soap, once you’d found him. Your daily routine was basically: wake up, eat breakfast, follow Soap, go to the training room and follow your CO’s orders, shower and eat lunch or dinner, find Soap, follow Soap, sleep, repeat.

Then one day, on a particularly idle day, Soap had turned to you and popped the question — “Do ye trail everyone ‘round like this, or am I jist special?”

Maybe you were just being dramatic, but holy fuck , his accent made it almost sound like he was speaking a whole different language. You process his words for a moment, before responding with a quiet, “Uh… I guess you’re just special?”

He seemed pretty satisfied with that answer and never really bothered you with it again.

—

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

➥ he realizes immediately and ohhh boyyyyyy.

➥ “Do you need something?” “Did you need something?” “Why are you following me?” “Stop following me.” “Do you need something?”

➥ he is. Very bothered.

➥ constantly looking over his shoulder just to find your annoying ass following him.

➥ will always ask you why you’re following him, and when you shrug or give a bullshit excuse, he gives an exasperated sigh and goes on with his day.

➥ sometimes he’d even try to lose you in the crowd, and when you miraculously continue to follow him through it, he’d somehow become even more miserable. it’s impressive, your dedication to following him around like this.

➥ he’ll warm up to it eventually, maybe a month or two after you’ve started following him.

➥ by month one he’ll stop constantly asking you why you’re following him, and by month two he’ll stop constantly glancing over his shoulder.

➥ and eventually, he’ll stop trying to lose you in the crowds, and instead look for the easiest way to get through them with you trailing behind him.

—

Ghost should’ve known from the moment you persisted with your following of him through thick and thin that you’d never give this up. Honestly, it’s impressive how dedicated you are to trailing behind him like a little shadow, never even speaking to him, just following him.

However, Ghost could persist as well.

You’d follow him around as much as possible, starting at the break of dawn and briefly pausing your following to do whatever training your CO instructed and then resuming your following till curfew. Day after day, Ghost would interrupt your following by questioning it, then when given an answer, he’d give an exasperated sigh and storm off, not waiting for you to catch up.

At first, he thought you wanted to win over some sort of attention or affection from him. So, he made sure not to give you any. He didn’t spare a single moment for you, besides glancing at you over his shoulder and questioning your presence, and yet you continued to follow him. So he experimented with it a bit — he didn’t spare a single glance at you one day, didn’t speak to you one bit, didn’t do anything. Just went around as if you weren’t there. And yet, you continued to follow him, not put off by his behavior at all.

So, he just stopped thinking too much about you, in the nicest way possible. He wouldn’t glance back at you and question your presence, but he also wouldn’t try and lose you around the base. He wouldn’t storm off and leave you running to catch up. Sometimes, he even forgets you’re there at all. He warms up to it, albeit after a few months, but he still warms up to it nonetheless.

—

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

➥ i think he’d notice fairly quickly but wouldn’t point it out right away.

➥ like, he’d glance over his shoulder and see you following him, but gaslights himself into thinking you’re just trying to get to the same place he is, so he doesn’t confront you about it or anything.

➥ so when he realizes that you’re following him and not just trying to get to the same place he is, he’s kind of weirded out, but still doesn’t confront you.

➥ he’ll ask soap for some help on what to do and the damn idiot just goes ‘[c/n] probably has a crush on you’ so now gaz thinks you have a crush on him.

➥ i mean, he’s flattered, but also he has no idea who you are, so…

➥ he’s now even more awkward.

➥ so then he goes to price for help,

➥ and price is just a tinge more reasonable.

➥ price tells gaz that you’re probably just shadowing him because you see him as some sort of mentor, or maybe there was someone in your past that was similar to gaz and you followed them around as well.

➥ his reasoning doesn’t help all that much, because what the fuck is gaz supposed to do with that, but whatever.

➥ he really doesn’t know what to do about you, to be honest.

➥ after way too long, he asks you why you’re following him.

➥ and when you shrug or give an excuse as to why you’ve been trailing behind him ever since you’ve gotten here, he shrugs back and goes on with his day.

➥ doesn’t mind all that much, so yippee!!

➥ eventually, when you two get closer, he tells you that you can walk by his side instead of behind him.

—

Making Gaz your target was probably the best idea you’ve ever had.

He’s pretty quiet, doesn’t actively try to get you to go away, and best of all, he really just walks around and does any tasks he needs to. It’s oddly nice, just watching him do his work. He doesn’t talk to himself under his breath like Soap or Price does, and doesn’t do his work in complete silence like Ghost does. He’ll often hum to himself or whistle, a noise that’s quickly become weirdly comforting to you.

It’s kind of disappointing realizing you have to go off to training, honestly. Following Gaz around has quickly become the pinnacle of your day. Which sounds really sad now that you think of it, but who cares.

About a month of you following him later, he finally asks you why you’re following him. In the nicest way possible, of course.

“Is there a reason you’ve been following me around all month?”

When you shrug or give an excuse for your actions, he thinks about your words (or your wordless shrug) for a moment and mutters a quiet, “Alright, then,” and goes on with his day.

[lambiewrites]

Letter To Santa

TaskForce 141 x Child!GN!Reader

Warnings: none, be prepared for teeth rotting, sweet fluff. We believe in Santa on this page. This is primarily center around our dear Capt. Price because seeing him as a father figure would cure my woes. This is not proof read and I just woke up so have fun ❄️🎶🎄

Word Count: 1.29K

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The stocking were hung by the chimney with care in hopes that St.Nicholas soon would be there.

Little hands eagerly worked at a red pen and delicate paper, smoothing out wrinkles. Fingers grazed papyrus with ease and little barefeet barely brushed against the cold floor. Brows knitted in concentration as the wee babe bite their tongue in thought.

“How do you spell Santa?”

The sweet voice echoed through the barrack walls quite the contrast of its usual interior.

“S-A-N-T-A. Here little one, I’ll write it down for you.” The gruff voice bent down with a crack of his spine before letters curled one by one to spell the jolly fat man’s name.

“And how do you spell Christmas?”

A gruff sigh came from the man’s beard lips as he spelt out the words CHRISTMAS in extra large font for the babe.

Captain Price was a man well into his years, beaten and broken down from multiple years of war and hardship but, somehow or another you wiggled your way into his heart. He most certainly thought of you as his own and cared for you like such.

Calloused hands tending to your every need such as tying your shoes, reaching top shelves, teaching you sight words and so on and so forth.

“Kid, what are they teaching you in school? Do I have to spell everything for you?” He teased, running large calloused digits though H/C hair, ruffling it a bit but quickly slicking down its strands back in place.

“Could you write my letter? Please? I’ll tell you everything you need to write!?” Eager pleads filled the air and brought about the rest of the men to seek out your woes.

“Just this once! And I won’t ask for anything else!”

A half snort left the masked lips of our dearest stoic, balaclava covered “friend”. Deep voice for a large man indeed. A bit scary but, you were never scared of the one in which they call “Ghost”. Oh no, quite the opposite. You played with him, hugged him, snuggled up to him, had breakfast with him, much like everyone else who you had wrapped around your little tiny fingers.

“I find that rather hard to believe,love” He stated rather promptly, leaning back against a rickety chair, stretching his limbs out a bit.

“It’s true! I promise! And I can’t lie because Santa is watching AND, unlike some people-“ You shot glares at Ghost and Soap, Soap whom shot you a half innocent look back as if he had no idea what you were even rambling about. Ghost, if at all possible rolled his eyes beneath the mask at your little rambling. At least Gaz was safe from your rambles and tales of the “naughty and nice list.” You were certain your name and Gaz’s name was on the nice list, and maybe Price’s, but Ghost and Soap’s? Absolutely not!

“I’m gonna be on Santa’s nice list so I can get lots and lots of presents. So I can’t lie. Just, someone please write my Santa letter for me!? That’s all I ask! Please!? Pretty please?! Pretty please with sugar on top?!”

Little hands clasped together eagerly begging and pleading for your letter to be written, feet bounced from one heel to the next, little E/C eyes looked up to the men round, full of light and wonder but pupils wide and begging almost like a puppy who wanted a treat.

“Tch, fine. Only this once. Got it? Now, come here, little one. I’ll see to it that your letter is written and fit for Santa.” Captain Price patted his knee and you eagerly abided, settled atop his knee as if he were Santa himself. Come to think of it, if he had a longer, white beard and was a little fatter and more jollier, he could be Santa. You giggled in thought, earning a brow raise from Price before he carefully held you steady.

The hand that was holding you, held that same bright red ink pen gently against the notebook paper that you had originally used to write your own, little letter.

“Ready Captain? I gotta big list of things to write and say. Think you can keep up?” You teased the old Captain though you did this quite often and found joy in joking about his age. Though, the Captain wasn’t that old. He was in his late 30’s, early 40’s but, to you he was ancient.

“Take your best shot, kiddo.”

He chuckled before the tip of the red pen pressed against the crinkled paper, whereas you rambled on about your list, Price was lightly writing out as followed:

Dear Santa,

I have been really good this year. I have done all of my chores without complaining and been on my best behavior. For Christmas this year I want (insert toy list here) and for my “pretend” family to get everything they want Christmas. Oh! And I want them to be able to go home and spend Christmas with the people they love. Because that’s what Christmas is all about. Family and love.

P.S. Can you please get my Uncle Ghost a boyfriend/girlfriend. Thanks. He’s really lonely.

“Is that good?” You asked the Captain with a small tilt of your head, holding up the crinkled paper reading over each and every sentence you made Price write.

“Men, Do me the honor of looking over their letter. Tell me, is it Santa Clause worthy?” Price held the crinkled paper up for Ghost, Soap and Gaz to look over.

Gaz was the first to read it, chocolate hues scanning the paper over and over again with a small chuckle at the last sentence. A hand went over to tuck strands of H/C behind your ears and compliment your work, though Price wrote you you worded it.

Soap was next and as azure blue eyes looked over the paper he chuckled whole heartedly.

“Ya really are doin’ poor L.T. a favor here aren’t ya lass/lad?” Soap chuckled wholeheartedly before Ghost snatched the paper from the Scotsman.

“Johnny what’re you laughing at-“

He breathed in a heavy sigh at the last little sentence you had, had Price write.

“Bloody hell…”

He grumbled, large digits pinching the bridge of nose through mask and balaclava.

“It’s funny.”

You giggled, peering over Price’s tired shoulders to see Ghost’s reaction.

“Aye lass/lad, it’s also Santa worthy.” Soap got in another chuckle before snatching the crinkle red written letter back from Ghost and letting Price read over it one more time, before sealing it up into an envelope, licking it shut and sticking a little stamp on it.

“Say, Y/N? Do you know what Santa’s address is?” The Captain arched a brow at you as you seemed to be falling somewhat sleep in his gentle hold.

“Uh uh. But I bet it’s on your maps. Somewhere. You got lots of them. You can find it, I believe in you.”

You chuckled in a half sleepy manner, leaning back against Price’s broad chest, H/C and H/L falling over your tired features.

Price turned your body, so you were tucked tightly into his arms gently moving strands of hair out of your face. He thought for a moment at your little request and a subtle hum came from him.

In a hushed tone he whispered a simple,

“Don’t worry little lamb, St.Nicholas will get your letter, my men and I will make sure of it. “

He pressed a soft kiss against the crown of your head before letting you slumber and dream in his arms. He fetched the other men to quickly find Santa’s address for your silly, one of a kind letter.

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A/N: I suck at accents and writing but, my brain has been turned off recently because ya girl graduated last Saturday and I threw everything I've ever known out the window haha. I love writing fluff and I will die on that hill. This idea also came to me from a couple of AI chat roleplays and simply, well Christmas spirit. I know the gang is probably ooc and I sincerely apologize for that. I will get better, trust me! Reqs are open forever and always! Reblogs are def appreciated!

[captainswhore]

@chamomiletealeaf and i are discussing some things 👀👀

how y'all feeling about a poly!141 x barracks bunny sorta situation

(rouge i wholeheartedly encourage you to post this before i can- PLEASE. you'd do it more justice than i ever could!!!)

[certifiedyapperx]

• husband!price headcannons

tags: gets sexual toward the end. mdni.

just thinking about husband!price who knew he wanted to wife you up the second he fucking laid eyes on you.

husband!price who, after two dates, was already shopping around for potential wedding rings, pondering the options, wanting to be ready for when the perfect moment presented itself.

husband!price who didn’t waste any fucking time telling you exactly how he felt about you. a man who lives in the present. with his career, it’s the only way he knows.

husband!price who, of course, made sure you were on the same page before he proposed, solemnly pledging that he would do everything in his fucking power to fill the rest of your lives with nothing but voracious, unconditional love.

husband!price who, in between deployment, spends every goddamn second attached to you. touching you, kissing you, hugging on you any possible way he can.

husband!price who, after another prolonged separation, is damn near starving for you. the intensity of his longing practically palpable. even the fucking guys can tell.

husband!price who, the second he catches sight of you, hair messy and pjs still on--growls a low, primal groan of relief before his duffle bags hit the floor, disregarded, and he’s striding hungrily through the house with his boots and gear still on. tunnel visioned.

husband!price who doesn’t even speak a single word to you before he’s on you, like a striking serpent, gripping your hips so bloody hard you’d think he was trying to shatter the bones beneath his touch. another groan escaping him, so fucking thankful to be touching you again.

husband!price who immediately pulls you into him, hands roaming over every expanse of your body they can manage to find, burying his face in the crook of your neck and sucking in a lungful of your scent, his eyes squeezed shut and his heart pounding so hard you could almost feel it.

husband!price who, the second you breathlessly murmur his name, turns absolutely fucking feral.

husband!price who immediately lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as his hands move to your ass and his teeth attack your neck, sucking and biting marks of ecstatic purple pleasure to life on your sensitive skin as he moves toward the nearest surface he can find.

husband!price who uses one hand to clear every single fucking thing off the table in one clean swipe, sending it all clashing to the floor before he places you down on top of it. zero patience and zero fucking restraint left in him.

husband!price who tells you how absolutely fucking beautiful you look as he’s ripping your clothes off, his lips finding yours, the need and passion and hunger evident in the desperation of his mouth against your own.

husband!price who wastes zero goddamn time before swirling the pads of his thick fingers over your clit, praising you for how fucking wet you are for him, telling you just how good he’s going to stretch you out and how long he’s been just fucking dying to do so.

husband!price who fucks you slow and deep to start, each stroke better than the last, savouring every twitch moan mewl gasp and cry that escapes your lips as he makes you cum over and over and over, with practically no end in sight.

husband!price who talks you through each orgasm, praising you for how fucking good you are for him, telling you how much he fucking missed you. every single goddamn day he’s been away. how much he missed your smile, your voice, and most of all, your perfect fucking pussy.

husband!price who fucking growls as he finally cums, after you’d orgasmed so many times you can’t even see straight never mind attempt to form a coherent sentence.

husband!price who plants sweet little kisses all over you, staying inside you until you’d both regained your breath and some form of normality before slowly slipping out.

husband!price who cooes sweet nothings in your ear as he scoops you up into his arms again and walks you toward the bathroom, looking down at you with love blown pupils before drawing a bath for you both to relax in.

husband!price who can’t fucking wait to make you the mother of his children. because there’s not another goddamn soul he’d rather spend the rest of his life with.

[httpsghostie]

141 with a high maintenance s/o

warnings: none!

✧.* gaz would find it cute and he'd be mesmerized by your routine right before you went to sleep. "what's that for?" he'd ask as you applied moisturizer, carefully massaging your face. he also would be happy to be involved, he wanted to be part of it too just so he could spend more time with you, he'd even let you do his eyebrows if you wanted. feel like he would buy your skincare products, you mentioned a serum you wanted to try? next day it would be in your stuff. poor thing just wants to see you happy.

✧.* ghost would be a bit annoyed at first, you complaining about your cuticles and how your nail just broke and you have to fix it, but he would just love to see you getting all pretty and happy to get them done. he not so secretly enjoys watching you put on makeup, asking 'what is it?' for every single product, and you have to explain everything, but it's funny, it's like a youtube channel. he would also be really scared of you when you were doing your eyebrows and couldn't get them right and had to deal with you screaming at him.

✧.* price would be stunned by how soft is your skin, letting the guys know that you've been trying out some new hair products and that they should bring up how pretty your hair is, even if they don't notice anything. he'd let you sit on his lap on the toilet lid to apply skincare on him, and he would also let you trim his beard to make him look well put, as he says. he would also give you a lot of expensive gifts just to remind you that you're his pretty little princess.

✧.* soap would be the most hyped about it, for sure, following you around at the mall and carrying all of your bags, giving you a relaxing massage after a long day of walking around and shopping, giving extra attention to your feet until you practically fell asleep. then he'd realize you hadn't put on your sleeping mask and neither your satin cap and he would do just as that. isn't the best on gifting but will definitely take you out on fancy dates and vacations.

[cas-backwards-tie]

Trials & Triumphs Masterlist

COD men x Reader

Summary: You've been selected to lead a ragtag group of operatives through a covert long-op. Determined to take down NATO's latest focus: a prominent underground sex-trafficking ring, you're put to the test when things start to get a little too chummy to handle.

Warnings: Alcohol, Peer Pressure, Tension, Cursing, graphic descriptions of Death, Murder, Blood, Weapons, Gunfire, Hostages, graphic descriptions of Injuries, Suspense, Disappointment, Humiliation, Embarrassment, Resentment, Passive-Aggressiveness,

Mentions of: Crime, Government, Injury, Death, Politics, War Crimes

Chapters: An Unexpected Pair | A New Day Dawns | Reroute Necessary | Strength United |

A/N: This is something I've been slowly writing getting into this little pit of fandom, and while this is mostly a self-indulgence, it's the reason things are marked the way they are. I haven't decided who the reader will end up with indefinitely.

[hidefromsol]

I love the smut fics. I love the intense romance.

But I need Simon "Ghost" Riley to be my dad. Not Daddy. Like. dad. Father. My paps. Teach me to fish and go to airsoft games with him and have him help me on my homework and kiss me goodbye when I go to school and damn I have bad daddy issues don't i

[shinchanboi]

Fanfic Search

Lemme pick your brain a little...

So I saw a post looking for a specific fanfiction and it kinda of gave me an Idea of making a fanfiction search thread or blog specifically for CoD stories. (I don't really know, I'm new to tumblr)

If this already exists lemme know if not... I dont really know I kinda Im just kinda curious because I have so stories that are kinda lost in the archives of my brain.

ok yall have a good day. bye!

[idontknowreallyidontcare]

KorTac members are WHORES, you’re only safe because you’re Colonel’s favorite.

You never talk, always have your mask on and the clothes and gear you have to wear daily doesn’t give too much information about what you could be. Male? Female? Only you know, and only you’ll decide when and how you’ll tell others (at least that’s what you thought).

When women from the base hit on you, hugging, tugging on your arms, pressing their tits all over you, you definitely get flustered, but you don’t know how to break it to them, that you’re actually a female and pretty much enjoy yourself every night by watching big muscled men jerking off on the unholy sites, with their hairy torsos and their angry looking cocks.

One day, some rookies (too fed up with your mysteriousness) drag you to the communal showers, laughing and calling you out on never joining them for one. Making silly jokes as ‘you’re afraid of us or our dicks?’ ‘What’s it big boy? Your cocks too big to grant us the pleasure of its presence in the same room as us?’ Or ‘no I bet it’s actually small, he just doesn’t want us to see it!’ Or ‘guys leave him alone, you’re gonna get in trouble with colonel’

As you are being dragged, you arrive inside the showers, everything is on display and you know it, there’s no curtains, no privacy, of course, that’s why you shower always at night and ALONE. But when you’re thrown inside and all you can see are huge junks, wet muscles, tensed abs and men moaning, you truly understand how much you actually fucked up for wanting to cover up your identity so bad and leaving people just assume your gender.

Your colonel suddenly facing your way with his hard dick pointed directly at you it’s not making it easier for you. But the rookies starting to trash you around, throwing you from ones arms to another, while starting to jokingly remove your clothes it’s not of help either.

Hlep I have some big ideas w this one c:

I just wanna say that the rookies will definitely not be playing with us in that sense, and this will probably be a KorTac x some other members probably from taskforce141. Probably an orgy thingie or idk, still have to decide.

Under here a poll with the characters I have in mind, just vote and the most rated ones are getting it. I thing of making it with at least 5 men x reader :3

[yufloria]

Old Roots Pt.1

TASKFORCE141 x Fem!Reader

Summary: Los vaqueros and you were childhood friends and they left without a trace before you entered adulthood.

Sorry if this took a while, testing weeks are a bitch and almost considered dropping and scraping the idea on multiple occasions :/  

Also: I tried adding more story/ background and working on my descriptions and details skills!!! Tell me if this is better and feedback is greatly appreciated <3 

Word count:6.4k!!! (Get comfy :3)

TW: Blood, gore, violence, CoD type of violence, injured reader

WARNING!!!!! IT MAYBE GRAPHIC TO SOME OF THE READERS

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“Alejandro bajate de allí” you told Alejandro as he was playing on top of a stone hedge. “¡Por favor Ale!” screamed a very panicked Rodolfo while clutching to your arm tightly. “No worries I got this! I just need a little more!” He shouted back. This all happened after pointed out how delicious the red apples look hanging from tree. Alejandro being Alejandro and knowing how much you love red apples he is currently trying to reach from on top of the wall. But the problem was that all 3 of you were (at the time) really short. So, in the mind of a kid, he did the best thing he could ever think of which consisted of jumping off and hopefully getting the juicy treat for you. Growing up with him you knew what he was going to do with just a glint of his eyes. “Alejandro, no lo hagas, for everything I could ever ask of you please don’t do it.”  Without a warning he just jumped off and landed on top of Rudy that you didn’t know when he moved but he tried to catch him. Both landed on their back on the rough patchy spot, the only spot without lush grass for some type of cushioning. You ran to reach them as fast as your stubby legs could go. Once you reached them you heard small sniffles, as you got closer Alejandro rolled off Rudy, he first looked at his scratched knee then at you with tear filled eyes and let all the tears loose. You were quick to pull him into a hug as your head rested on Alejandro’s shoulder you saw how Rudy also looked like he was about to burst into tears you knew he was because he was very scared of something bigger that could have happened to Alejandro. You just hold out your arm as in to invite him into a hug he quickly obliged. The three of you enjoyed each other’s presence until it was broken when Alejandro started giggling. The hug disbanded away from Alejandro just for him to turn around with a bright smile and holding out 3 red apples on a branch. “Ay, Alejandro...” You sighed out. Ruffling his hair, you quickly gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, he immediately turned red and shoved the branch in your arm and turned away and pouted. After pulling Alejandro to his feet, you guided them to a river and told Alejandro to wash the knee as well as he could while you washed the apples up stream. Rudy started to wrap a piece of fabric around Alejandro’s knee while you sat a little more behind them. “Gracias Rodolfo,” you praise as you give him a kiss on the check as a thank you. He also turned red and pulled his shoulders up to try and cover his blush. You distributed the apples to them and started eating them while staring out to the bustling town below. “Oye, when you grow up what do you want to do?” You ask out loud. Both Alejandro and Rodolfo hummed and tilted their heads as in thought. Alejandro was the first one to quickly stand up and shout, “¡Parar los tipos malos! And kick them out from here and make them never come back.” “That means joining the military, Alejandro! With the problem of the cartel, they are probably going to kill us just for joining!” countered Rodolfo. “We have to fight back some way or another. ¡Por nuestra familia!” You courage him with a warm smile. “¡Tienes razon! Juntos paráremos a todos ellos!” he shouted with a sudden boost of courage. You smiled fondly at both of them as you ruffled their hair and thought ‘Yes, together we shall stop all of them’! 

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The strong relationship between all three of you were building throughout the years started crumbling the moment you started entering your adulthood. You no longer spent that much time together anymore because there was simply no time, your mom fell ill and has been bedridden ever since when you were a teenager, you took the part of taking care of her as your father went out most of the day and always came back after dark completely exhausted. It was a blessing and a curse that you were the only child, a blessing because your parents wouldn't use that much money on food and plain necessities but a curse because you always felt that you must help and work around the house for your parents and take all the load of work. As for Alejandro and Rodolfo? They left without a trace, one day you are catching up on your lives and finding a day where you can enjoy a day like the “good ‘ol times” and the next they were nowhere to be found, you asked around, but all the leads came into a dead end and soon you gave up on looking for them. It was harsh for you to adjust without them and the only thing you knew was they were probably dead but maybe they were alive! But if they were alive, why didn’t they tell you or a letter or the very least a goodbye. A few months passed and your mother unfortunately lost her fight against her illness. Her passing was harsh and taxing on both your father and you.  

On your father because he started picking up drinking again after he stopped in order to buy the few medications that your mother needed. But for you, after losing your friends that felt like almost younger brothers to you and now your mother. You felt like you had no one, especially now with an emotionally distant father. His drinking problem slowly started to get the best of him, and he started wasting so much that you could no longer help with your job. After he realized he didn’t have enough to continue feeding his addiction he started asking for loans from the cartel as he knew he had no way of paying them back. 

 He soon started to take his frustrations out on you which caused you to say out of the house most of the time, sometimes even sleeping in the old hideout all of you built away from the town to hide whenever the 3 of you would do mischief. It was a small house under a huge oak tree the leaves and branches hanging down low enough to hide the scraps and wood you collected to build and resemble a house. It was a paradise, at least when you were younger, it had a small play kitchen with a window that had curtains made if sewn together random fabrics that you found in the garbage. On the windowsill there was a small tin can that you always replace each day when you were play pretend that you had a bakery or sometimes a restaurant, that supposedly that Alejandro and Rodolfo were going to help you build so you could fulfil your dream on opening your own restaurant and so people could enjoy your cooking. You always think about that promise every time you enter the small house.  

For that reason, that “playhouse” you built together, was the sole reason you were still alive to this day because one day you were sleeping under the old tree. You were awoken by the smell of smoke and fire you immediately shot up from the makeshift bed and ran outside thinking that the town or the tree must have caught on fire but much to your despair it was your house. Of into the distance on a lonely hill where the house you grew up, played around, and made memories with your loved ones was ablaze with fire that looked like they could reach the sky and smoke that started making it seem like a twilight zone. You immediately started running towards your house. Your legs and lungs slowly started to burn and hurt as you made it on top. The flames produced so much heat that your eyes started to water. The townspeople were already trying their best to quell the fire. There was a human chain system that had water bucket from the nearby river. Your heart rate spiked once you noticed that you hadn't seen your father yet. You frantically started searching for him calling out his name and checking the face any man that seem to be the same age of your dad. Soon ice felt that was coursing through your veins, that the only possible way to find your dad was that he was in the house fire. As you turned to look back at your house, the roof collapsed like your lungs. You once again broke into a sprint to your house once you reached it you tried going in but an older woman no older that your mother caught your wrist. “¡No lo hagas mija!”. In desperation you shook her hand off from your arm and tried to run in but this time you were stopped by two ranchers, the same ones you would buy milk from every Sunday morning for your mom since she never liked her coffee black. This time they managed to hold you back as you tried to claw your way out from their clutches. “¡Suélteme! ¡Mi papá está allí adentro! ¡Por Favor salven a mi papa!” You watched as they slowly pulled you way from the burning house as tears rained down your face and your memories went up in flames. 

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You were startled from your dreamless and restless sleep by a knock on the bedroom door. You were taking in your surroundings when the door opened to reveal the same women from yesterday.  

Oh Yesterday... Oh yesterday... 

The sweet lady was an old friend of your mom's. She always tried to help you with any small thing she could but as the years came; she just couldn’t go up the hill anymore. She must have sensed your sudden change of heart as your face contorted into a frown and grimace as you remembered the events the night prior. “Buenos dias hija. ¿Como Sigues?" she asked with a soft smile present on her face. Her soft hand covered your fidgety hands as your eyes began to get glossy with tears rimming your eyes. “Ay, mija...” she sighed and pulled you into a deep embrace it was probably your emotional distress of your resent events or the fact you haven't felt that type of hug your mother gave you every time you felt bad but this time the embrace had a beating heart. It was like a dam crumbling down and tears burst out has you grabbed fistful of fabric on her back as you let everything out and the sweet lady just stayed put, rubbed your back, and shushed as your tears reduced into small hiccups and sniffles.  

The older lady grabbed you hand and gently pulled you up to your feet and with a soft voice she spoke, “Vamos, mija, there is breakfast downstairs.” Both of you sat down at the table and a breakfast plate was already prepared in front of you, it consisted of scrambled eggs with sausage, refried beans, and some freshly made tortillas the same one she used to make when she was well. You stared at the plate for a few minutes before forcing yourself to start eating. The sad tension was broken when a man which face was worn down by the years came in and took off his hat as he entered. “Buenos dias, ¿Como sigue la niña?” He asked his wife before pulling her way into the kitchen and soon it was filled with hushed, rapid whispers. 

 They emerged from the kitchen once again and stared at you with worry very present to their faces as they didn’t want to tell you something. Shaking his head, the older gentleman sat in front of you and placed his hat on the table. You stared in silence back at him urging him just to spill on what he had talked to his wife. “Mija...” he started but stopped once his voice cracked but continued “We found your father-” right before you could get your hopes up on seeing if your father was okay, he cut you off before you could even ask where he is “-but he isn’t with us anymore.” You deflated as you slumped into the chair and the food long forgotten. “Can you at least take me to him or tell me where he is?” You ask hopelessly. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

“Why?”  

“Because your father wasn’t there when the fire started, he wasn’t even near when it happened” 

“Then what happened?” With that question a tension quickly formed in the room which caused you to panic and tilt your head as in question “What happened” you pressed again. You saw that the couple glanced at each other talking with their eyes as they hesitated to tell you the truth. “TELL ME!” you shouted you couldn’t take it anymore the silence was killing you. At your sudden burst the older man seemed to react he simply stood up take his hat off the table before heading to the door. “Sígueme, por favor.” You walked a few paces behind him, and you took note that his house was barely on the outskirts of the town and the direction you were going was to the heart of the town. You people stop and look at you, men taking of their hat, and the townspeople just walked in a somber silence as you walked by.  

You felt the hair behind your neck start to rise the more you walked deeper downtown. A hand was placed abruptly on your chest right before a corner to the church. The man just looked at you with so much sadness and sympathy. He simply pulled you into a quick hug and stated “Lo siento mucho mija.” ‘He is sorry? Sorry about what?’ You thought before you could voice your concerns, he pushed you back and squeezed your shoulders to let you go to see for yourself. To go where your father was. As you rounded the corner your eyes widened in shock, the image before you caused a visceral reaction that made your stomach churn and your skin crawl. You feel frozen, overwhelmed by the disturbing emotions that race through your mind. 

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Your father or whatever remained of your father was displayed in the front of the church. He was crucified but it seems that all his limbs were ripped off from the torso they were held up by huge metal stakes. Oh Gosh! His head! His head was staked on the top of the cross. The tip of the cross went up where the neck was supposed to go but worst of all you could see the tip of the stake looked like it was about to come out from his right temple. But it seemed that the eyes were already gauged out before the decapitation and the tongue ripped out and thrown carelessly to the ground. It was a gruesome sight to see. You weren’t squimish on the sight of blood or death, most of the time you always took care of the chickens since that was the only meat that your mom only enjoyed eating so this shouldn’t be new to you. But this time it was your father, your dad, that took care of you, cherished you and raised you nondifferent no matter how much he wished to have a son. 

 You fell to your knees as you coughed and choked up with your own vomit. It hurt, it felt like your whole skull burn under skin, now the lovely breakfast was now spilled on the side of the street. Your heart felt like it was being crushed as your entire world seemed to shatter into a million pieces. You gasped for air, but the tightness of your chest made it hard to breathe. Your hands shook as the weight of the situation began to sink in as you tried to hold yourself together. 

From that moment on, you vowed to eradicate every cartel and ensure they never threaten you or your home again. 

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You left your hometown there wasn’t anything for you to stay, you lost everything and everyone you cared about. That’s how you find yourself in this situation trapped in this old, abandoned house, not because the cartel managed to get their hands on you. No, you are better than that just you were in the wrong place at the wrong time you were helping a small group of drunk ladies after a night out and being the only sobber one around you decide to help them reach the nearby inn but taking care of one drunken person was hard you had to deal with three one of them.  

You were so preoccupied taking care that they wouldn’t hurt themselves that you didn’t notice men all in black approaching the group until a gruff voice broke out, “Buenas noches, señoritas, how are you in this fine evening tonight.” You head snapped back to the man that spoke and notice that he brought 2 more other men that you could see. You set the girl that was the most wasted down had their arm around your shoulder on a rock. “Buenas noches, gentlemen, is there something I could help you with sir?” You asked innocently you were new in this town, but you been long enough to know that they are not from here and up to no good. “No, but I could ask you the same thing do you need help young lady? Seems that taking care of three drunks proves to be a hassle for you, no?” he noted by closing the healthy distance with his men too. Upon saying that all the alarms of danger came in blaring in your skull as even the ladies who were a little tipsy, holded hands and hid behind.  

You could take them on, but they were close enough for you to notice that they were armed, and you just could not let them have their way with the women. You stood your ground has you can now feel his horrid smell of alcohol and terrible oral hygiene fanning over your face. His hand slowly came to reach and hold your cheek caressing it lightly. That kind gesture would be welcomed if it weren’t for the predatory gaze, he had present in his eyes as he tried to grind his knee on you between your legs. Before you could fight back the girls behind you squealed which cause you to turn and see that more men came out of nowhere. The hand being so gentle on your face shocked you as if it turned into a cobra, struck your chin, and forced you to turn back at him. This time you refused his advances by biting his thumb until you felt blood burst inside your mouth then you saw a flash of white and your whole side of the face seemed to burn and throb. You looked up at him on the ground as you felt blood start to seep from your busted lip. “¡Pinche perra!,” he shouted and landed a hard kick in your stomach. 

 You now know that you couldn’t get out of here without violence. You used your low stance on the ground you advantage. You acted fast lifting your body with your left hand and swung your right leg at the side of his knees as your body twisted right. You felt your leg connect with a satisfying pain that coursed up through your leg but seeing land on his enough for the pain to subside just a little. You launched yourself at him, your right fist connected to his jaw you were about through more before a man behind you wrapped his arm around your throat and squeezed. Your hands immediately flew to scratch him, but he didn’t budge, just squeezed more. You panicked when you started seeing black spots on your vision. You started kicking much harder and slamming the underside of your fists on his thighs. You were about to black out until your left-hand graced what you presume is a knife on his hip; enclosed your hand on the handle ripped it off from its socket and swung back on his thigh and buried it deep enough to his bone. He released you and caused you to fall forward with the knife still in hand. You gently barely hold your throat as you take in huge gulps of air, coughing during the process. The tears barely began to subside then another kick on your back was enough to make you snap back to the situation at hand. You rolled over onto your back, forcing your feet together and kick them out with do much force to send them back a few feet back giving you the opportunity to get back of your feet. You hear a shout coming behind you and head whipped to dodge the knife gracing your cheek, the knife in your hand quickly made home to the stomach. The man just grunted and froze into place as you hold him and pulled the knife back out once then twice and then once more but at the end you twisted the knife and drag it to the side and let the man fall with an ungraceful thud to the ground.  

The amount of blood that covered you was frightening but nothing new. The guy that you stabbed on the leg started to crawl away as the first man that started all this also had a knife of his own but unlike the man that it currently bleeding out on the side of the road, he was swinging and failing the knife around with so much speed that nicked you multiple times before you noticed his attack pattern. Swing left, Swing right, then a double step forward. Swing, swing, double step. Again swing, swing and block with the left and push forward and go behind him, grabbed his chin with the same force he had with you and tilted to the side and drive the blade stained with his partner’s blood home on the neck, you struggled to get the blade out once he hit the ground felt the blade slowly come out some audible spirts of blood as you push and pull the blade, you felt yourself getting weaker as the adrenaline slowly subsided within you. As you felt your blade about to get released, then a major force hit your temple, it was strong enough for you to leave the knife embedded in his neck. You landed in your back lightheaded touching the side of your head feeling your blood running down your face and down to the grounds. 

There was a loud ringing on your ears as you stare up to the night sky, in your peripheral vision you saw the man that you let live, the on you stabbed in the leg, throw a medium size rock, that’s now covered in small splatters of your blood, to the side. He slowly bend down to get a much bigger rock, heavy enough for him to use both hands and lift it high above his head. You told your body to move, to react or something as he came closer to you with a staggering leg behind. Your vision became black in and out. One side of your brain was screaming at you to force your body to move while the other, stronger, and much louder side just told you to just stay don’t move. Your injuries were just too taxing on your body. Right before he could smash your brain in, multiple shots rang out, his body fell to the ground, but he was already dead before he hit the ground. You heard steps all around you then other male face came in close to yours and smiled with a grin with crooked teeth and a horrible breath, excitedly said to his men as you barely heard, “¡Estás una chulada! Let's take her to EL Sin Nombre, he’ll give us a big prize for this girl that can cause this much damage,” then everything faded to black. 

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You woke up with a throbbing around your head it felt like rubber band squeezing eternally. Groaning out as you painfully slowly got up into a sitting position. You raised one of your hands to feel all the dried-up blood caked up on your face and immediately began scratching it off the best you could. You repeatedly open and close your eyes trying to get rid of the dizziness, once settled you took in off your surroundings. It was an abandoned rural house, the windows were caved in but covered in wooden planks, there wasn’t a door, a suspiciously stained deep brown cloth nailed onto the frame. The cloth didn’t do an excellent job of muting the sounds coming from the room next door.  

Voices started to arise and slowly made their way towards your direction until finally a man reveal behind the cloth you squint your eyes at until his imagine of the night before appeared in your memory. You are proud to admit that you haven't held hostage too many times before, but you are ashamed to admit that acting like a defenseless and dumb civilian has gotten you out in multiple situations before, so you take your chances and play with that card. You got into character and just stared at him with alarmed doe eyes as he got closer to the makeshift “bed” of you can even call it like that. Before you can play your part, he beat you to it “Cut the crap,” he mocks “I- I mean- We know that you don’t just kill people like that even if it was part of “self-defense”, I saw it in your eyes you have done this more times than you can count,” He grinned out with the same teeth damaged by tobacco and his horrid putrid smell of his breath. “That is why I have you here, alive, so you,” he points at your chest and continues “can work for me, us, for a good pay... for what you do”. “What do you think it is that I do?” You seethe between your teeth. “Simple...” he stats “kill for us. For the cartel.” Acting stupid be damn! You knew that your face gave your true intensions away because before you could even react or voice your opinion. His hand enclosed around your throat squeezing with so much force that it seemed too much from his lanky built. He was smart enough to push himself over you, caging you with a leg on each side of your body and start squeezing with both hands. Your throat must have bruises from the night before because you felt paralyzed by the immense pain for a few seconds before your instincts to survive kicked in, you tried again scratching him on the hands, but nothing seems to work. He squeezed harder and pushed you deeper into the mattress as you tried pushing him away from you or at least scratch his face to know at least you did some damage to this poor bastard. 

 The weight suddenly vanished, and you felt something wet splattered on your face. The body onto of you slump down to the side with a hole straight through his skull. A sniper. Your blood ran cold as the people on the other side of the room burst out in a commotion when a load of rounds started ringing out by multiple people. Chaos was induced as the paper-thin walls didn’t do anything to stop the bullets and your heart felt like it was about to explode within your chest. Run, run, run! Was the only thing your brain was screaming at you. You stumbled around protecting your head; running and searching for an exit as bits and pieces of debris exploded all around you. Out the back door you heard the person inside had a radio that yelled in English! “Soap, get hold of her she’s the only one who might help us find El Sin Nombre! I’ll keep a look out up here.” They were looking for you in this case, hunting you! That being said you took off as fast as your legs could. A different voice broke through the radio and alerted the man inside once more, “Soap, she running to the blue two-story house southwest from your location!” “Shit!” you cursed out loud as more shots came... above? You look up there was helicopter orbiting the whole neighborhood that you woke up in. You already had a gun that was on the body of a dead man and ran the opposite direction where you first heard the shots and killing two men that had pointed guns in your path clean through the chest. You couldn’t even pat yourself in the back for killing a moving target while you were also in the move that is a first time for you today!  

The ground started spewing upwards as bullets crashed into the ground near your feet. A sharp pain in your right calf causes you to stumble forward and crash to the floor with the momentum you had. You look down at your leg and inspect the wound, luckily it grazed your leg not before getting a quarter of a centimeter of your flesh away. You wince at the sight that started to burn and turned to look at the man named “Soap” a silly name if it wasn’t the fact that that he was currently hunting you and closing meter after meter to get you. You swiftly scrambled to get on your feet and limp to the house that had two floors. Some cartel members burst out of the house and paid no attention to you instead to Soap, you were internally grateful they managed to distract him and buy you some time. You bashed the door open with your shoulder and shot where you saw movement you swept the first floor and tried the best you could to run the second which thankfully was empty.  

There was empty bookshelf next to the door you quickly rushed in pushing it if front of the door and lodging it with wooden floor lamp stand and tie it around the bookshelf happy with your work you look out the window to find a dense forest out in the outskirts of the town. If you can make it a few yards into the forest, you'll be free. Stomping up the stairs made you snap out of the daydream and raise your gun at the door, he tried the door only to discover it was locked. “Open the door! I don’t want to hurt you!” A thick Scottish accent rang out thought the silence other than your beating heart in your chest.  'Don’t hurt you, my ass!’ you thought as you pulled the trigger without hesitation until it clicks without a bullet. Jesus fucking Christ just your fucking luck! You wasted the last of the bullets on the bastards the floor beneath you and now some crazy ass psychos are after you! Groaning out silence you start looking for another escape route until the was a huge bang at the door behind the bookshelf. 

 Bastard was launching himself to the door trying to pry it open, not choosing to shoot because he might accidentally hurt you.  You only started panicking when you heard splinters come apart at the door, that’s giving in to the repeated force. Out the window it is! Thrusting the butt of the gun to the window it shattered upon impact and chipped off the glass on the windowsill, the noise seems to agitate Soap more because he panically shouted “I know she’s escaping but I’m stuck behind this fecken stupid door! But I’m almost in, the door is about to give up!” True to his word the door did seem like it was 3 hits away of giving in. Bang! You turn to the door, and you saw his gloved hand slip in and take ahold on the side of the door near the doorknob refusing to let the door shut again. The second bang was heard when you were sitting on the windowsill, a leg on each side, and half of his body head included his head could now fit through the crack. His eyes widened as he knew your plan of escape when he saw your position. You knew he was going for the last blow as he retracted his body but this time instead of waiting for the bang when his body slammed to the door, you threw yourself out the window. You couldn’t cushion the fall and crashed to the ground it hurt like a motherfucker, but you couldn’t stop yourself from moving you started crawling and then you go to yourself up and running, limping miserably but running just a few more yards and you be free, you could taste it, tears started forming at the excitement. But then a huge force brought you to the ground once more but this time you couldn’t fight him off you couldn’t even move an inch, the force on top never budged and it was heavy enough to have your lungs struggle to function correctly. The man turned you onto your back and you were met with a horrific picture of a human skull that had deep dark blue eyes staring back at you with an emotion that you couldn’t quite decipher. He proved to be strong enough to hold both of your hands in one of his. The free hand was set the radio on left shoulder and spoke with a British accent “I have secured the running fugitive and we are a few clicks away from the forest Northwest from the location of Soap.” “We have actual visual on you, Ghost, preparing landing to proceed the exfil.” Hearing that Soap was apart a team all hunting you down made your head spin.  

Panic once again arose from you as you desperately tried to get of the clutches to this terrifying man, but he didn’t move an inch the frustration got up to you once and just started crying silently as you stared longing at the forest next to you. You were so close and yet so far. Soap meets up with this “Ghost” man on top of you. “What did you do now Ghost? You made another beautiful lady cry again. It was probably because of that ugly mask again,” he teased once he saw your position under Ghost. “Probably if you didn’t do a shit job at capturing her, I wouldn’t be so rough with her but considering she slipped from you two times was the hardest thing to watch through the scope. She was also going to escape from us that third time and I had to take matters into my own hands and here we are, waiting on that helicopter to land and take our asses home with the only person that can help us find answers from El Sin Nombre.” Soap stays quiet but through the silence there was an audible smirk present on Ghost face behind the mask. The helicopter finally landed and Ghost grabbed the front of your shirt to pull you up to your feet and before you could start running, a black plastic zip tie was placed around your wrists by Soap, you could only glare at him as a firm hand was placed behind the base of your neck as a warning to not do any funny business, at least when Ghost was near. 

 The trio got on the helicopter you were met with two new more faces. An older man that seems to have the warmest smile with crinkled eyes that had a fishing hat that looked impossible to move considering the hat didn’t flinch at the huge gusts of wind the helicopter produced. His name was Price. The other man that seem the youngest of the whole group had darker chocolate skin and had the fullest lips ever on a man with a cap that told the same story as the hat of his older teammate. He introduced himself as Gaz and with the introductions out the way the aircraft lifted itself off the ground and into the sunset sky above.  

Almost reaching the 25-minute mark and you have arrived on a small military base. Everyone got off the helicopter and in front of you there were already black SUVs formatted in a line. Everyone started walking towards the car, but you were limping, and Soap was the only one to notice and took your right arm and took off pressure on your wounded leg. Ghost turned around and raised an eyebrow at both of you. Soap simply shrugged and said with a smirk clearly present “What? It’s the least I could do after damaging some fine lady’s leg.” Once you were settled in between Ghost and Soap, even Price as the driver and Gaz the passenger. The car began to move with the help of the rear-view mirror Price made eye contact with you and said “Get yourself comfortable it going to be hours before reaching the location we need you in.” Get comfortable you did! After the stressful two days you had to experience and the amount of adrenaline you had to use took a toll on you because you fell asleep on Soap’s shoulder snoring lightly before the 30-minute mark. 

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A/N: Idk why is so graphic but I feel like it fits the story especially if its about the cartel yk yk?

And Pt.2 is in the making :3

[haven-1307]

Having very unholy thoughts about taskforce141 x Nikto x keegan x reader…

if anyone happens to know any works about them feel free to let me know 👀

[python333]

task force 141 reacting to [reader] having excessively watery eyes — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the title says once again! tf141 and their reactions to [reader] having excessively watery eyes. if you want to get a bit more medical, the term for it would just be 'high tear drainage capacity'! it's basically just something some people have where they naturally just produce more tears and as a result their eyes water excessively at (as far as i know) random times!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & reader.

characters cap. john price, soap, ghost, gaz.

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], might be ooc. :{

note i was watching super 8 when i got this idea, because my eyes got watery all of a sudden while watching it and i was like 'omg i should post this on tumblr' because i'm a writing whore so here i am again. my fingers hurt from typing all the things in html to make the text small and shit but we still up!!

JOHN “BRAVO SIX” PRICE

➥ he thinks you’re crying at first.

➥ it’s not his fault! he had no idea your eyes just water up randomly.

➥ when he sees your eyes well up with tears, depending on how close y’all are, his fatherly instincts—which he, obviously, developed after meeting gaz—kick in immediately.

➥ “Are you okay, [c/n]?” “Why are you crying?” “Did something happen? What happened?” “... What do you mean?” “This is normal?”

➥ he’s kind of embarrassed for worrying so much after you reassure him that you were okay and that your eyes just excessively water, to be honest.

➥ he’s glad that you’re okay though, obviously.

➥ he never really gets used to seeing you tear up randomly? even though you told him it was normal?

➥ like he knows that 99% of the time you tear up it’s just because you do that, but he still likes to be sure that you’re okay, so he always makes sure to ask if you’re okay.

➥ he’s such!! a father!! i’m crying!! and it's not just my excessive eye watering!!

—

You both had just been hanging out in the recreation center, Price on the couch and you sitting on a chair right by that couch. You were scrolling through your phone, while Price was reading the newspaper—usual old man activities. While scrolling through your social media feed, you didn’t even notice the way tears started to well up in your eyes until your vision got blurry and you felt a small, wet trail of a single tear roll down your cheek.

You’d sighed and pulled a pocket-sized tissue pack out out your pocket, pulling out a tissue and dabbing at your eyes, ridding them of the tears. Of course, the tears didn’t just stop there, they kept coming, so you kept wiping and dabbing at your eyes, hoping that they would go away soon. This was a fairly regular occurrence— for you.

Price caught sight of this and immediately looked worried. He stared at you for a moment as you wiped your eyes, wondering if he should speak up, and eventually had tentatively asked, “Are you okay, [c/n]?”

You looked over at him and pulled the tissue away from your face for a moment, “Yeah, why?” Your voice didn’t sound strained or hoarse like Price had expected, seeing as you were practically crying.

“You’re crying,” Price had pointed out, pointing to your eyes as if you couldn’t notice it, “Did something happen?”

You sat there, a bit dumbfounded, and Price took your silence as hesitation to tell him what was going on. “You can tell me what’s going on, [c/n]. I won’t judge you,” He’d reassured you softly, setting down his book and putting all of his attention on you.

Oh God. “Nothing happened,” You’d quickly assured him, “This is normal, don’t worry about it.”

“... What do you mean, ‘this is normal’?” Price asked, now confused as well as concerned, “You cry often, mate?”

“I mean, kind of?” You had replied, before sighing and clarifying, “My eyes just water up a lot. It’s not really crying.”

“Oh,” Price said dumbly, before nodding and giving you one last concerned look, “Right, then. Uh… sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” You smiled at him, going back to dabbing at your eyes with a tissue, while he reluctantly went back to his book.

—

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

➥ can’t mind his own business for the life of him.

➥ similar to price, he thinks you’re crying at first.

➥ but he doesn’t hesitate at all, the moment he sees you tearing up he’s like ‘woah what the fuck are you okay??’

➥ you have to firmly tell him that yes, you’re okay, you just have very watery eyes.

➥ he still offers to get you tissues and some water, worried by the amount of tears you’re producing, thinking you’re gonna get really dehydrated.

➥ makes sure you’re completely okay and that you’re not just making this all up to hide the fact that you’re actually crying.

➥ after that whole interaction, he doesn’t get as worried when your eyes randomly water up, and instead teases you about it.

➥ learns to know when you’re actually crying, just so that he can offer comfort when it’s appropriate, and tease you when it’s appropriate.

—

The two of you were hanging out in Ghost’s room, since his was cleaner than the both of your’s combined, and he was away on a mission. Soap laid down on Ghost’s bed while you were sitting on the edge of the same bed, the sheets and blankets wrinkled from you both moving around on the bed. Soap was scrolling through his phone while you sat opposite of him and read a book Price had recommended to you—in his usual old man pseudo-father fashion, he’d told you to spend less time on your phone and ‘read a damn book’—so you were doing just that.

It was when you’d just reached chapter six when your vision got blurry and you sighed, knowing what was happening already. It was just annoying, honestly, having to pull out your tissues every ten minutes because your stupid tear ducts couldn’t function properly. When you went to pull out the mini tissue pack you always carried with you—or so you thought—you were surprised to find that the familiar plastic rectangle of tissues were nowhere to be found in your pockets. You checked your back pockets, front pockets, and yet they weren’t in either.

You let out a small, frustrated sigh through your nose and got up from the bed, the movement making Soap look up and over at you.

“Hey, where are ye—blimey, are ye cryin’?” Soap questioned, his questioning tone quickly becoming concerned, “Are ye alright? It wasnae the book that made ye cry, aye?”

You looked back at Soap, sighing, wiping at your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt, “Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t even worry about it, it’s normal, I just need to go get some tissues.”

“What dae ye mean this is normal?” Soap asked, sitting up. I just want to grab tissues, man, You think, miserably before short explanation that yes, you’re okay, no, you’re not crying, your eyes are just watery—basically the same answer you give every who eventually asks about your little ‘quirk’.

“Ye sure ye’re alright?” Soap asked, just making sure you’re actually okay, “Ye’re definitely no’ crying?”

“Definitely not crying,” You confirmed, “Just watery eyes.”

“Alright, then,” Soap breathed out, relieved that you were okay, before getting up and asking, “Dae ye need some tissues, water, anythin’?”

“Just tissues,” You answered, walking towards the door, “I can get them—”

“Nah, nah, ye stay richt there!” Soap quickly said, somehow getting to the door before you despite him having been right in front of the bed moments earlier, “I’ll get it!”

You watched him run out the door at a speed comparable to the usain bolt and stayed there for a moment, just staring at the now opened door, before huffing out a small laugh and heading back to the bed and sitting down.

—

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

➥ he doesn’t notice until you’re wiping at your eyes and huffing in frustration when tears keep coming.

➥ the first time it happened, he didn’t ask if you were alright verbally, but did shoulder nudge you and gave you a look that asks ‘are you okay?’

➥ when you nodded and continued wiping at your eyes, ghost gave you one last look before trusting that you were okay and continuing on with his day.

➥ he pretended he didn’t care but thought about it for a bit afterwards, especially if you guys are really close.

➥ he asked price if you tearing up is just a normal thing or if you were actually crying, and let himself relax when he was told that yes, your eyes just water up randomly.

➥ he’s naturally a very observant person and will be able to tell when you’re actually crying fairly quickly.

➥ he’ll still look you over to make sure you’re okay, of course, just to double check, but once he’s confirmed that your eyes are just getting watery again he’ll let himself relax.

➥ depending on how close you both are, he’ll carry around a pack of tissues for you.

—

You and Ghost were in a helicopter, another mission successful. It wasn’t the worst one you’d had—but it was far from easy to accomplish. You were reasonably tired after this mission, all the leftover adrenaline wearing off, making you slump a bit in your seat.

You were just about to close your eyes to rest them, when suddenly you realized how blurry your vision had gotten. You were confused for a moment before realizing—oh, right, that happens.

You sighed, knowing you didn’t bring your usual pack of tissues with you, thinking it would just take up useless space in the pockets of your tactical gear. You wiped your eyes with the gloves you’d been wearing, albeit they weren’t the best option but the sleeves of your shirt were far too short for you to use, the hem of your shirt was dirty, and while your gloves were dirty as well, the back of them weren’t nearly as filthy as the hem of your shirt.

As you wiped away with the back of your glove, Ghost noticed your watery eyes and nudged your shoulder with his own. You paused and pulled your hand away from your eye, giving him a questioning look. He didn’t say anything, but instead gave you a questioning look back, a look you assumed to be one that asked, ‘are you okay?’, judging by the way his eyes darted to your own very watery ones. You nodded, mouthing the words ‘I’m okay’, and he nodded back, going back to staring ahead of him.

Hours after you had gotten off the helicopter, you were walking by Price’s office, and couldn’t help but hear Ghost’s voice. Being the nosy person you are, you cautiously pressed your ear to the door.

“—don’t worry, it’s normal,” You heard Price reassuring Ghost, “I doubt they’d cry after a mission like that, anyway.”

“And they’ve told you it’s normal?” Ghost asked, just to confirm, “You know this for a fact?”

You didn’t stay long enough to hear the rest of the conversation, instead walking away and suppressing a smile at Ghost’s mildly worried tone.

—

KYLE “GAZ” GARRICK

➥ he notices pretty quickly.

➥ no matter how many times he’s caught you tearing up, he’ll still ask you if you’re okay.

➥ he makes sure to bring a clean handkerchief with him, just incase you forget your tissues.

➥ he’ll even bring it with him on missions, knowing you don’t want to bring your small pack of tissues with you.

➥ the first time he catches your eyes watering up, he gets pretty worried.

➥ he makes sure not to make a big deal out of it though, trying to be as considerate as possible, and instead quietly asks you if you’re okay.

➥ when you reassure him that you are and tell him your eyes are just naturally watery, he’s pretty relieved, and lets it go.

➥ he trusts that you told him the truth, and doesn’t question you again after that.

➥ around the fifth time it’d happened, he’d grown pretty used to it, so when you started tearing up walking back to the rendezvous point with him after a mission, he had a handkerchief ready for you.

—

You panted while you walked, trying to get your breathing under control. You’d done a lot of running today—while you were pretty fit, and could run perfectly fine, you didn’t particularly like running as fast as you can away from enemy soldiers while your teammates shot them down, leaving you praying that the bullets that tailed your feet didn’t hit you.

Eventually, you got your breath under control, but immediately afterwards, your eyes had started to water.

You sighed and were about to wipe at your eyes with your hands, before your hand was stopped mid air. You looked over at Gaz, who had caught your hand by the wrist and offered you a handkerchief with his free hand.

The handkerchief was fairly clean, and you grabbed it, muttering a small ‘thank you’ as you did. Gaz smiled at you and gave you a simple pat on the shoulder.

Once the two of you reached the rendezvous point, you handed him back the handkerchief, hoping that your grateful smile was enough to express your full gratitude.

[lambiewrites]

I love seeing soft!141 and domestic!141 fics. Y’all are gonna get something outta me soon surrounding that

[certifiedyapperx]

Captain John Price • broken.

PAIRING: John Price x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: the result of my poll. in short, you tell your captain that the reason you’ve only dated one man is because your ex said you were broken due to your inability to orgasm; and price offers to show you that the only thing broken was your confidence.

WORD COUNT: 5.3k (got carried away.)

TAGS: 18+, PURE FILTHY SMUT MDNI, Slight Degradation, Praise, Multiple Orgasm, PIV, Semi-Public Sex, Dirty Talk, Absurd amount of swearing, Fingering, Price being daddy as fuck.

"What about that ex girlfriend of yours, Gaz?"

As soon as those words left the Scottish lads lips, everyone in the room was giggling like a lot of fucking schoolgirls. You'd be lying if you said that didn't include yourself.

"You want to talk about ex girlfriends now, Soap?" Gaz sat forward in his chair, eyeing his grinning teammate from across the room, the grip on his glass so tight you were worried it'd shatter between his fingers. "What about that woman you boned in Prague? The one that wanted, oh--how do I say it...a little ride on train 141."

"Nuthin' little about that train." Ghost added through a choked chuckle, barely able to get the words out.

Your fucking abdomen was starting to get sore from the amount of laughing you'd done tonight. These men were absolutely ridiculous. You'd never heard more obscene sex stories in your damn life, and they've got a bloody abundance of them--the back and fourth taunting over who fucked who and who did what never seemed to end. It was almost three in the morning and they were still going strong.

"Aye," Soap leaned back in his chair, bringing his glass up to his lips and taking a slow sip, wide eyes gleaming as he reminisced. "Fuckn' wild one, that one. Had her nice and tamed for me by the end of that deployment.”

"Aye, the fucking woman whisperer, this one," Ghost chimed in again, his balaclava half pulled up, exposing his stubble-donned chin and grinning lips as he took a hefty swig of bourbon. Not even fazed. "Almost as smooth as Price."

Everyone in the room chuckled, nodding and muttering words of agreement, but you were stuck in place--still absentmindedly staring at Ghost while turning the words over in your mind, curiosity piqued.

"Price?" His name left your lips before you could even attempt to prevent it.

All eyes in the room shifted toward you, and Gaz cocked an eyebrow. "You've never heard any of his stories?"

Ghost shot him a look. "Clearly not."

"I mean, I've heard some..." you mumbled, awkwardly trying to fix the mess you've just made. Your gaze darted between the three men staring at you, each set of eyes glazed with confusion, clearly trying to figure out why you were so taken aback. "Captain is far more secretive than the rest of you."

You'd been on the team for a solid eight months. Since recruitment, you'd worked alongside Price every single fucking day, yet the man hardly ever spoke about his personal life.

Unlike the others, who seemed to never stop.

"Around you, yeah." Soap mumbled with a smirk, shooting a knowing glance toward Gaz who instantly returned it.

Your brows knit in confusion. "Around me?"

"Aye." Ghost replied for Soap, and you were practically sitting on the edge of your goddamn seat as you knew he wasn't finished. He shifted lower in his chair as his eyes traced up and down your form. "You're new. You're hot. You've never spoken a word about your own personal life. The man's a bloody nutcase, but he hides it well when he needs to--he probably doesn't want to scare you off."

"Scare me off?" You had to fight to keep your jaw off the floor. Trying to mask your confusion, you cleared your throat. "What's that supposed to mean?"

At your reaction, everyone chuckled again, and your face immediately flushed with blood--shading you the same crimson colour found on a ripe fucking tomato. If there was some joke happening here, it'd clearly flown way above your radar.

And yet, before you or anyone else could even consider speaking again, the man of the hour appeared in the doorway, and you nearly fell out of your chair.

"Valid question." He didn't even acknowledge you as he spoke, eyes fixed on Ghost as he took a step into the room.

Gods, he was fucking attractive—every molecule in your being screamed at the sight of him. You'd done everything you could to ignore that fact for the entirety of your time here, ensuring your focus was trained on keeping things professional--but after two glasses of whiskey and the current topic of conversation, the flood gates were wide fucking open.

"Go on, Ghost," his voice was low, deep as the depths of your desire as his ocean eyes slowly danced around the room. "...I'd like to know the answer as well."

Price took a seat across from you, slouching slightly and nodding toward Soap who promptly poured him a glass of burning brown liquid and slid it across the table. Ghost pulled down his balaclava in attempt to hide his cheeky fucking grin, shrugging as though he had no idea what his Captain was on about. 

"Not sure what you mean, Cap." Ghost quipped, and you could practically hear the beaming delight in his words. "We're just talking."

"Hm," Price side-eyed him, humoured. "You always talk about me?"

"Only when you're not around." Soap chimed in, snuffing a groan in his throat as he'd downed the rest of his drink and stood up, shooting an inebriated nod to each of you. "Well, would you look at the time--I'm gonna' hit the sack. Duty calls, y'know."

Your stomach churned with confusion, your eyes glued to the Scottish bloke who decided it was convenient to make his exit the exact moment Price entered the room. You almost wanted to reach over and yank him back into his seat.

"Keep it classy ya filthy bastards."

He shot you a cheeky wink from beyond the door frame before disappearing into the abyss, only for Gaz and Ghost to rise from their seats as well, seemingly following Soap's lead, muttering excuses about how late it was and how exhausted they were.

Your mind raced at lightning speed, trying to make sense of the sudden exodus. You were going to kill those fuckers in the morning.

Price broke the silence before it had the chance to linger for too long. "It's not personal, you know."

Your heart slammed your sternum. You sucked in a breath and trapped it there. You needed to calm the fuck down--though that seemed like a goddamn impossible task at the moment. Prices' voice was the hypnotizing depth of a black hole. It stirred every last atom within you.

Avoiding his eyes, you straightened in your seat, clearing your throat. "I know."

"Do you?" He cocked an eyebrow, two fingertips tracing the rim of his glass. "I'm not so sure."

You looked up now--almost immediately regretting it as your eyes caught his. You forced words out of your mouth before you could acknowledge how the way he was looking at you made you feel.

"It's because I haven’t opened up to you..." you murmured. "Yeah?"

Price nodded, choosing to remain silent, his gaze anchoring you to the floor—every muscle stiff as stone.

You cleared your throat again. "Well. What do you want to know? My family? Where I grew up-"

"No." He cut you off, leaning forward, elbows resting on the table as his stare intensified. "...I already know all that. You're my recruit, I know everything about your past..." his head tilted, his eyes narrowed, and he pushed his glass to the side, clasping his hands together infront of him. "What I don't know, is why a woman as skilled, as smart, and as undeniably attractive as you, has only ever been with one man."

Blood crystallized in your veins, every ounce of your skin vibrating with an emotion you couldn't identify. He was so close—closer than you'd initially gauged—and that closeness ignited dormant desperation, one you'd nearly forgotten existed.

Your throat was thick. Saliva lodged inside it. "I..."

There was a reason. There was a very good reason as to why you've only been with one man, why you promised to never put yourself through that shit again. But you couldn't bring yourself to say it, you couldn't bring yourself to speak the words aloud. That would mean being vulnerable, humiliatingly vulnerable--one of the many things soldiers were trained not to be.

Captain Price hummed, leaning back slightly, and a swarm of unpreventable desire roared alive in your chest. His attention flicked over you. Like he'd felt it.

He remained silent. He was waiting for an answer.

"It's...um..."

Your brain filtered through pages of plausible excuses until it landed on one. Inhaling a breath, you forced the fibbing syllables past your teeth, shrugging in an attempt to make it believable.

"I just...never found anyone I jived with.”

Price paused, his scrutiny skinning you raw. It was like he knew what was waiting on the edge of your tongue, like he could smell the smoke swirling off the fire below your waist. He wasn't buying it.

"You can't lie to me." His words only confirmed your thoughts. "I mean, theoretically you could, though I'd advise against it."

You swallowed, forcing your eyes to your hands. "I'm not lying."

"Perhaps not," he replied, voice cool as ice. "But you're certainly omitting."

Fuck, he was good. And of course he was--there was a reason he was Captain. He was fucking bred for this. You were certain he could detect a lie from light years away.

"It's embarrassing," you replied, ignoring the thrilled leap your heart made that he'd read you so well. "You'll think less of me."

John Price leaned further across the small table, nibbling the distance between you. The intensity of his focus made your insides tangle, something was undoubtedly churning within his mind. A breath caught in your throat as his eyes held yours.

"I don't care," he stole another inch, and you could now comfortably say that he was well within your personal space. "If this is going to work, there has to be trust. Because you should trust me—as your Captain, and as your friend..." in a single abrupt movement, he stood up, towering over you, eyes boring into the top of your head until he shifted toward the door. "...when you're ready to open up to me, I’ll open up to you."

Ice braced your veins. This was the most conversation you'd had with your Captain since you joined the team, and you were about to blow it with your inability to talk to him. To just telling him the fucking truth. He took a step back from the table, began moving toward the door, and you panicked.

You let him get two steps from reaching it before you jumped up, out of your seat. "Wait!"

Time was a relative concept. But as your Captain spun, and as you linked eyes with him, it slowed. Stopped.

You cleared your throat for the millionth time. "It's because...it's because I'm broken."

Price's eyes widened, only momentarily, before they narrowed--out of curiosity or skepticism, you couldn't tell.

"You’re broken." He said, drawing the words out on his tongue while taking a slow, lengthy step toward you. "Elaborate."

You dropped your eyes to the floor again, catching sight of his brown, rugged combat boots as they stepped into your line of sight. Heat flashed your face, and you shifted on your feet.

"My...my ex...um," your voice was barely above a whisper. Something felt gut-wrenchingly humiliating about having this conversation with your fucking Captain. "He, he kinda fucked with my head, I guess. Made me never want to date again."

You heard an exhale, a huff of enticed breath leaving lungs.

"I think," Price eased closer, and you caught whiff of his cologne--the scent engulfing your senses, sending hunger snarling and snapping for relief. "...you're omitting again."

"Why?..." you blurted, trailing your gaze past the vast expanse of his strong chest and up to his gleaming eyes peering down at you. You blinked. "...do you think that?"

Price raised a brow. "Am I wrong?"

"No, it’s just…” you closed your eyes, took a breath. Let it out. No point in lying. Just rip off the fucking bandaid. "He broke up with me because I couldn't orgasm. He said I was broken because of it. It’s dumb, but it hurt.”

Gods, it felt so fucking stupid that you had to smile, had to damn near laugh at yourself. As much as it sounded so foolish, you'd always just considered that maybe something was actually wrong with you. After all, he was your first, and your only—and the fact that you could never orgasm bothered you, too.

However, when you finally reopened your eyes, swallowing whatever ounces of pride you had left, you found a depth to your Captain's ocean irises that was not there before.

There was something floating inside them, now--something primal, something depraved.

"Interesting." His hand raised from his side, grazing over your cheek and coming to a slow on your neck, the tips of his fingers skimming over your racing pulse. "Broken."

Any blood that had been left in your head was now plummeting to your core.

"Broken." You whispered.

Price exhaled, his breath caressing your face, and you bit your lip to stifle the whimper that wanted to thrust itself past your teeth. Never once would you have considered the thought of actually fucking your Captain--but right here, right now, with the way he was touching you, analyzing you, palpably tempting you--it was becoming more difficult to deny the physical need steaming from your pores.

"This,” his voice was so deep it made your blood sweat, his thumb stroking your pulse. "Doesn't feel broken at all."

Adrenaline surged you, ambushing your lungs with rapid breath, flares of lust sparking over your skin. You leaned into his touch, and he let out a sound that was somewhere between a hum and a straight up growl.

Your pulse soared, your hand finding his wrist. “Captain…”

It would be lying to say you thought this was a good decision. But you couldn't find a fuck within you. After years of denying yourself any sort of physical touch due to the shame that consumed you, Price had perceived it without effort and ordered you strip yourself of pretense in his presence.

"Let me show you...." Price wedged a boot between your feet, his hips brushing yours, other hand finding your hip. "...that the only thing broken is your confidence."

You nearly whimpered. "Please."

Without further contemplation, your eyes darted to his lips the same millisecond his darted to yours, and you both moved at once. Price groaned, one hand shooting into your hair, the other supporting the small of your back, tugging you close. His hungry mouth captured yours, teeth nipping your lower lip as he spun you around and pushed you back against the table.

You groaned into his mouth, your ass hitting the cool metal with abrupt force. His lips attacked your jawline, moved down to your neck, and another groan escaped you, this time in bliss.

"Fuck," you cursed under your breath, throwing your hips into his, allowing desperation to guide you. "Captain..."

A low, menacing noise reverberated in his throat and he seized your neck again, bringing his mouth to your ear.

"My name," he took the lobe between his teeth, earning a squeak. "Say it."

"John—" You gasped, clawing at his back. "Shit."

"Mm. Good girl. So obedient..." he purred, tracing his mouth along the curve of your ear. "So responsive."

"Fuck." Every new beat of your heart brought a desperate pulse to your cunt. His fingers found your hair again, curling into a fist. "John...please..."

Your Captain hummed, just as his lips moved back to your pulse and attacked it, sucking rough rabid marks to the surface, his hips grinding against yours. Your eyelids fluttered shut, and he moved lower, releasing your head to work on removing your clothes.

Before your belt even hit the floor, he was tearing off your shirt and tugging off your bra--exposing your breasts to the cool air of the dimly lit room, surging goosebumps to life that he was quick to cover with his hands, taking the fresh tissue between them and kneading it.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, to himself you presumed. "You're fucking perfect."

There was one brief second of thought surrounding the notion that any one of your teammates could walk in and find the two of you here—but that thought was quickly lost as Price leant down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth. You squealed, squeaking in pleasure, and his grip possessed your hips.

"So sensitive..." he said with a grunt. Your Captain wasn't just hungry—he was starved, more voracious by the second, spurred on by your reactions. "Fucking hell."

He leaned back, hooked his fingers under the waist of your pants and pulled, unconcerned for the ripping seams as he forced them down the curve of your thighs. Your head rung, entire body tingling. Paralyzed, you watched your Captain tear off your boots and rip your pants free, tossing them all to the side.

"Fuck me." He muttered again, returning his sights to your figure. "Look at you."

Price examined you like a meal, gaze traveling from your collarbone to your breasts, down past the curve of your belly to the swell of your hips, coming to a slow between your quivering thighs.

Adrenaline had got you this far. Reality was setting in. "Captain..."

"Shh," calloused hands found your hips, urging you back against the desk, spreading your legs further apart as he inserted himself between them. "I already told you what to call me."

You shuddered, twitching from his touch, and the corner of his lip quirked. Smouldering blue eyes searing into your skin. "John, I—"

His thumbs slid close to your heat, dipping into the crease and teasing close to the edge of your thong. Reality was a plummeting star, crashing down into your mind without regard. Nerves were consuming you, fingers digging into his biceps in attempt to stop them from shaking.

"You...what?" His voice was practically a lullaby. How something so deep could be so soothing was beyond your comprehension. "Go on, pretty thing..."

"I just..." you shifted your hips, trying to balance fear with desire. "I'm just...I don't want to disappoint you..."

Price assessed you, only for a moment, gracing your thigh with a stern yet gentle smack before trailing upward.

"Enough." It was an order. "I want you out of that beautiful mind."

He brushed his finger across your cunt, grazing over your swollen clit, and you choked, hips snapping toward him.

"Don't think..." the power in his words was intoxicating, a command given with the confidence of knowing you'd obey. He teased your clit again and you whinged, gripping him harder. "...just feel."

Before a coherent thought could enter your head, he pulled your panties to the side with two thick fingers, not giving you a second to brace for it before he used those same fingers and sank them into your tight, aching cunt.

"Oh—fuck-"

You groaned, head tossed back, walls tightening around the delicious stretch as he pried you open with slippery ease. The intensity, the fullness from just his fingers stole your breath, dizzied your mind, and you closed your eyes, trying to ignore the growling breath escaping his lungs, trying to ground yourself as much as you could.

"Christ...tight little cunts just soaked..." he was right, you were dripping. You couldn't ever remember being this wet. In truth, you couldn't ever remember being this turned on, this desperate for touch. "Tell me how that feels."

"G-oh, fuck—" any additional words you had planned on using instantly died on your tongue as Price curled inside of you, pushing deep, every coherent thought fleeing your mind with a moan. Your entire body pulsed for him, like he'd shaken every cell awake and enthralled it under his possession. "John—oh, Gods!"

It wasn't like you'd never been fingered. It'd just never felt like this.

Something about the trained motion of his hand, the skilled curl of his wrist, the attunement to your body was consuming you--the need for more only increasing as he found a perfect rhythm, fucking slow, reaching to your belly while his thumb circled your sensitive clit. Your cunt throbbed, squeezed around him, as if to coax him deeper inside of you.

"Needy little thing," an amused huff at the corner of your consciousness. You forced yourself to look at him—he was smirking. "Tell me how it feels."

Desperation was throbbing at your temples, growling and coiling in your belly—unfathomable, incredible desperation stalling your lungs. Unfamiliar, but entirely absentmindedly as Price stroked your walls, stroked your clit, and you were gasping, you were—

"So fucking good—" you were practically screaming, brain a mangled mess of aimless words. "Cap—John, I—I'm-"

His free hand seized your jaw, forcing you to look up into his eyes, his fingers still keeping their pace, your vision blurring to bliss. "You're?"

You gasped. "I’m-"

"You’re close." Fire flooded your flesh, and you mewled like a nervous, helpless animal. His grip tightened. Intensity and power radiating off him in waves. "S’ that what you want, little slut? Hm? You wanna’ fuckin’ cum for your Captain, don’t you?”

“Yes!” No thought required. “Pleasepleaseplease-“

“Mhm. That’s right, that’s right—“ he was just as gone as you were. Air rattled in your lungs like rocks. Your vision blurring as you held onto him like your life depended on it. “Cum on my fingers, darling, let me feel you.”

A scream shredded your throat, submerged in a storm of euphoria, sight whiter than the gates of heaven themselves. Convulsions wracked you, quaked to your bones, and you heaved, hunting for air while he worked you through the receding tide of your release.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He growled, the arrogance in his tone palpable. “Look how easy that was, hm?”

Your Captian pulled his fingers from cunt and yanked you off the table by the hold on your jaw—you stumbled into him, wetness seeping down your thighs, brain given less than two seconds to process the slew of events before his slick covered fingers were at your lips and pushing past your teeth.

"The way I see it, soldier—there are two possible explanations here." He shoved his fingers deeper, reaching for the back of your throat. "Either you somehow managed to lie to me..." he pressed against you, his desire evident in the way it was jabbing against your stomach. "Or this tight little cunt has never been properly sated."

Your heart was in your feet, your lips sealed around his fingers as you held his eyes, a shade of blue so deep you'd almost thought you were staring into the depths of the ocean. His pupils were blown wide with lust, it was clear what he was getting at—and judging by the way your cunt clenched in response to his words, it was clear that you felt the same.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth, looking for a response. You gave the only words you could think of. "I didn’t lie…I’ve had sex, Captain...I’ve just never done—that.”

"Well I think I've just proven that it wasn’t due to any fault of your own." His words were backing you into a corner, an explanation that was challenging to draw yet completely impossible to now ignore. "I got you there in seconds."

Your face grew hot. “So..what are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he assessed you, eyes looking past you, through you. “Your ex didn’t know what he was doing.” he leaned in closer, plush lips curling into a mischievous grin. “All you needed was someone who knew how to handle you.”

"Hm." The arrogance was stifling, setting you ablaze. It only made you want him more. "Cocky bastard."

"Cocky," he repeated with a raised brow. "You have no idea, princess.”

"You know what, Captain," you teased with a smirk of your own, unable to tear your sights off him. His eyes. His lips. "I think you just got lucky."

“Luck.” He chuckled—a deep, growling thing. "I don’t do luck, soldier. I do facts.” Price shifted a hand to his crotch, palming his erection through his pants as he pressed against you. “Fact one, I just gave you your first orgasm.” He was possessed, hungry, borderline rabid. “Fact two, I could do it again on my cock. If you’d like.”

And you, you were his eager, willing prey.

"Shit," you muttered, the words shooting straight to your cunt. You didn’t need any further discussion. You wanted him, and nothing could stop the next words from leaving your lips. "Please...please fuck me..."

Your Captain growled. The sweet desperation of your pleas sending him past the point of salvation. He sucked in a breath. Trapped it there—internally clutching whatever ounces of restraint he had left.

"You sure you want this?" His voice was so fucking low you almost missed it. His fingers moved to his belt, and his lips moved to your ear. "I'm not so sure you can take it."

"I'm built for combat, Captain..." you murmured with a grin, spurred on by the evidence of his throbbing desire, fingers trailing toward his belt to help him along. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

Price huffed against your jawline. Amused.

"You’re built for combat, undoubtedly..." you watched as he pulled free his thick, heavy cock. Your jaw slackened, your mouth watered. "But by the time I'm done with you, darling..." he seethed in relief as he guided his hand back and forth along his length, other one directing you back against the table. "You'll be built for me."

A sharp intake of breath found your lungs and then you were lying flat against the table, cool metal biting your backside and ripping goosebumps to the surface of your skin. You shuddered, seething in discomfort, but two strong hands made quick work to soothe them, coasting up your thighs until they found your hips, and then he stepped forward.

"Christ..." you whimpered as he loomed over you, the warm head of his cock rolling over your clit, teasing you with false thrusts, making sure you were well aware of just how long and fucking thick he was. "John..."

"Quiet." He purred, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. "Just let me break you open."

His heavy, smooth tip pressed against your entrance and then pushed in, head just barely spearing you yet somehow still splitting your cunt with a girth that stole your breath and forced a cry from your throat. With a breathless groan he pulled out, and you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing.

He smacked your thigh again. “Look at me.” He hissed, teeth sinking into the plush of his bottom lip as you instantly obeyed. “That’s it. Eyes on me.”

There was a mere second of silence before he sank in again, entirely this time—and though you were fucking sopped and pliant and voracious, he tore you wide with a sting.

"Oh—fuck-"

You fought for air, your body trembling, fingers clawing at anything that might steady you. He’d stuffed you full with ease, lungs heaving upon impact. Both big hands tightened around you, and he slid out, driving into you again with a hidden hiss of air, earning a loud, shameless groan from your lips.

"Fucking hell.” A dark, low voice rumbled from his throat. "Tight little whore. So fucking tight—"

"You're—oh, fuck—" words died on your tongue as he pulled out, pushed in again, sucking in air through his teeth, working you wider with each plunge into your pussy. You clenched around him, and he snuffed a moan, snapping his hips. "You're fucking huge."

"Mhm, yeah," it was a shameless admission. He placed a palm on your pelvis, pressing down, feeling himself fucking into you. He leaned back slightly, drawing long, slow strokes, forcing you to quake around every inch of his length. "That's how fucking deep I'm in you."

And deep he fucking was. Every centimeter banishing the ability to do anything other than exist as a stammering sheath for his cock. It wasn't penetration—it was pervasion, it was domination. Sex had never felt this intense. Sex had never felt this fucking tranquilizing.

"Christ—Cap-John—fuck—"

Price slid out and rocked in, driving to your stomach with a stab of blissful pain. Eyes snapping shut, you gripped his arms, seething when he thrusted again, and again. Each stroke shoved a cry from your chest, tightened your walls, and this only seemed to entice him, his cock splitting you apart. You scratched at his shoulders, fighting to find yourself in the bewildering delirium.

"There we go." His voice was distant in the sea of pleasure. "Look at you. Brainless on my fucking cock."

Your response was a moan, loud and shameless, gripping onto his arms and matching his rhythm, forcing your hips to his, a plea—faster, harder, more, more. Your Captain hissed in satisfaction, and his hand snaked between you, rolling and teasing your clit.

Your vision blurred for the hundredth time. "Oh, fuck—"

Delirium ascended into ecstasy, pleasure amplified by the stretch of his dick. He fucked into you, his skin smacking yours, his breath heaving in feral huffs.

"Fucking perfect pussy," he growled through his teeth, shifting your legs together and directing both ankles over his left shoulder, his thrusts slowly slightly as you gasped and whimpered, clawing at his hips, the new position causing the head of his cock to kiss your cervix with each thrust. "Mm, fuck...this is what you needed, darling. You needed a proper fucking."

"Fuck," you replied, brain numbed by bliss. Words didn't even make sense. "Deep. So fuck—deep—"

"Fuck—take it, take it little slut." His thumb was back on your clit, swirling it in tight, fast circles, his cock fucking deep into you. "I warned you."

"John—" You needed to scream, fingers clawing at anything they could find. If you weren't broken before, you’d certainly be broken when he was done with you. "Fuck—"

Bliss burned to burst, stars swarmed your sight entirely, and you knew it, knew it was happening, knew that you were about to break. The feeling was so intense you didn't know what to do with yourself, you weren't sure if you could even get the words out to warn him.

Your eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck—I'm—I-I'm..."

"Yeah, that's right." He hissed, teeth barred, hips snapping. He already knew. "Cum for me. Cum on my fucking cock."

Lightning euphoria ripped up your spine with a shameless shriek, your climax shattering you. Your cunt milked his dick, your thighs spasming, your back reached for the ceiling, pleasure possessing your nerves.

"There we go—good little fucking slut—squeezing me so good," it seemed an eternity--he was still fucking you through it, breaking you deep, until he edged his climax. "Fucking hell."

He sputtered, pummelling your cunt with sloppy final thrusts, pouring his cum inside you, grip gouging your flesh until he descended, meeting you in the receding tides of your peaks. Both of you twitched with aftershocks, both of you seeking air.

Once he stalled, you sucked in a long inhale and peeled your eyes open, taking in your surroundings for the first time in however many minutes it had been. The room was still as dim and dreary as it was prior to your mind shattering, the only thing now different was your Captain—who remained looming over the table, cock still buried inside you, precipitation lining his forehead and chest still heaving for breath, piercing gaze perceiving you like a sated predator.

With a glance at your lips, he finally moved, pulling back and out of you, tucking himself away. It was then that reality struck you hard—you'd just fucked your Captain. And he'd just shattered the preconceived notions of everything you thought you knew.

You were not broken. You were perfectly fucking fine.

Price cleared his throat as you pulled yourself off of the table and stood. "Y'alright?"

You nodded, grabbing your pants off the floor. "Yes, Sir."

Shame engulfed you, for reasons you couldn't explain. Embarrassment threatened to swallow you whole.

"Hey." Sensing this, Price stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on your arm. "Don't do that."

Your eyes fixed on his. Outlining his perfectly tamed facial hair, his striking blue eyes. "Do what?"

"Avoid me." He simply stated, his voice hardly above a whisper. "All this was, was me proving to you that you're not broken. You're the furthest from. It doesn't have to be any more than that."

"I know…just feel stupid, I guess.” Your face was in flames. You swallowed your pride until it was digested. There was no room for that here, not after what’d just happened. “I, uh, I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry.”

Price regarded you with eyes warm as the summer sun, shaking his head ever-so-slightly. “I wanted you to open up to me. Willingly. I never pry.”

You cracked a smile, slipping on your shoes. “You got your wish, then. Emotionally and physically.”

“Aye.” Your captain chuckled, reaching for the bottle of whiskey and plopping himself into a seat, sliding a glass across the table toward you. “My turn, yeah?”

[lambiewrites]

I got called an OSHA Violation at work and since I’ve branded myself the Johnny MacTavish of my work place, I thought of this little thing.

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• Working in a typical 9-5 with Johnny is either super fun or absolutely fucking miserable. He’s wired 90% of the time and absolutely feral.

• Talks your head off about nonsense until the manager/s (AKA: Price & Laswell) tell him “if you have time to lean, you have time to clean.” 🧼

•They beg him to work the registers because he’s a “people person”, but when he’s back in the stockroom…well, he’s nothing short of a nightmare.

•zero concept of personal space and knows no dangers.

•Held a box cutter up to his face obliviously because he had to wipe his nose.

•Crawled underneath a conveyer belt WHILE boxes were being pushed down it because he didn’t like the side he was standing on.

• Throw boxes like their shot-put balls (or whatever their called). Doesn’t matter if the boxes are stocked up higher and taller than he is, he’s still gonna throw them.

•SHOWS OFF

•Takes his shirt off when doing truck, doesn’t matter if it’s 0°F back in the stockroom, does it anyway.

•Everyone except Johnny wears headphones because he loves to talk and sing to the horrible retail music. Dances too. Has no shame.

•Steals people’s food and snacks even if their names are on it. (I have a Drabble of this!)

• Always has a Redbull or coffee even though he doesn’t need it? People have to force him to drink water.

•Spends his breaks gossiping with Kyle ❤️ (Sometimes Simon, if he’ll listen)

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A/N: I hope y’all liked that! And feel free to add more or ask about how the others would be in a typical 9-5! I think these are fun to write and yes, I have branded everyone as their own CoD character & trust me when I say this, I am definitely Soap at work. I have many more fun stories and ideas too ❤️ love you guys!

[certifiedyapperx]

simon riley drabble • 18+

okay but like imagine you’re a member of task force 141 and you and simon have been secretly fucking for a few weeks just to ‘relieve stress’ in downtimes and in order to keep your minds focused on the tasks at hand.

which has been fine except for this very moment bc the way he’s looking at you from the opposite side of the heli has you reliving the events from earlier that morning and you find yourself staring at him for way too long before someone finally calls your name and snaps you out of it.

and even though you’ve been careful about it all the guys have their suspicions. but you two play it off so goddamn well because ghost is literally emotionless and they’re damn well convinced there’s no fucking way you’d sleep with any member of the team after having been part of it for so long and turning each one of them down a million times over. they were certain that at this point, you just obviously didn’t like men.

and that was partially correct. you didn’t like men--you liked one man. a fucking hell of a lot.

simon riley fucked you so hard so passionately and so fucking relentlessly that you could have no interest in other men. the man was insatiable. a gnawing craving eating away at his insides, a hunger that only you and you alone could sate.

the second you two were back to base, he’d drag you into the nearest fucking room and fuck you until you cried while covering your mouth to make sure no one heard a damn sound.

it was as though it was a game to him, a challenge to see how many times the two of could you fuck before you aroused suspicion, before you got caught. how close to the guys could you get, how many orgasms you could have before you broke entirely. every time you fucked it was like he was trying to set a new record.

and every time, he did just that.