#go look at auspicioustiddings they’re cool

[goodday-goodmorn]

Back on this account: Prefacing this that this work was wrote in like a day and like most of my things- i was too lazy to edit lol. The concept form todays work was injected into my brain by good old @auspicioustidings, check em out- they got some cool concepts and fics. (Particularly Firewatch- chefs kiss to that series), lots of soft, dark, kidnap-y, COD content 👍

Without further ado i present my impulsive thoughts on a page:

——————

“Committed to the Bit.”

words: 4.7k

Summary: You’re at an utterly boring halloween party, about to leave when some scottish man dressed as a solider comes slinking into the bathroom and really goes ham with his whole ‘This place is dangerous, you aren’t supposed to be here- we gotta get you to safety’ act. Weird pick-up line approach but hey it fucking works. He’s just charming enough for you to play along with his bit. Because it is just a bit… right?

This party was kinda dull. Which really was a shame considering how high your expectations were. From what your friend said- it was supposed to be an immersive experience. The hosts were apparently old collage buddies with your friend who were halloween fanatics.

You friend has absolutely hyped them up, talking all about how when they threw parties they got into them and would always play up whatever dynamic they were going for with their costumes. Even to a level of mild public humiliation.

She once recounted the story of how one year, when dressed as a pair of vampires, they full on acted as though they were melting when someone brought a side of garlic breadsticks with the pizza. Fully committed to the bit it seems.

Because of the hosts being so dedicated to their act, of course it wasn’t uncommon for guests to act in a similar manner. Even those who didn’t have a running gag for the night were overall relaxed and had a good time being apart of the fun. It was a non-judgmental zone, filled with pretty decor and open people.

So of course, after hearing all about the welcoming and fucking amazing vibes of these parties- you had agreed to meet up with your friend at one.

Normally, you weren’t really one for parties, especially halloween ones because it was typically full of judgey, horny, strangers who would consider you weird- and you’d have to small talk and the songs almost always sucked because of course they couldn’t play actual halloween songs even if it killed them.

But after many reassurances from your friend, including videos and photos she had graciously provided you- you went to one.

To say you were disappointed was an understatement.

The costumes were amazing- high quality and expensive, hell the place was fucking stunning, all decked out in halloween gear and dark lighting. Even the building itself seemed perfect for this sort of thing- winding corridors, random locked rooms, ominous men in suits. Oh and don’t get you started on the snack table, shit was heavenly even if you were the only one touching it. The aesthetics of the party were great, But…

The vibes were way off. There was no rambunctious fun laughter and people grooving on the dance floor. Everyone seemed oddly reserved. Committed to their bits for sure, but well… there wasn’t much ah, variety to everyone’s act.

They all shared a similar vibe of like- domineering power. Which was definitely pretty fucking hot when it came to some people, (looking at you fancy vanpire lady), but it got boring after a while.

Safe to say your attempts at socializing were pretty shot. And what’s even worse, your friend? Yeah she didn’t even show up.

Tragic truly. You would call her to see if she made it here yet, but your phone was dead- and talking to any of the other party goers was a song and dance you didn’t wanna attempt again.

So here you are, in the bathroom, sitting by one of the sinks and charging your phone.

How lame.

You sigh, standing up to check yourself out in the mirror. At least your costume is fun, it’s a reference that only really you and you friend would get, but still, it made you happy to wear. It was a royal outfit, you looked like nobility, nice and fancy. Perhaps a barron, or maybe a princess, or a king- really it was up for anyone's interpretation. You fix up the head accessory, then fuss with your hair just to have something to do.

Maybe you should just leave, you were getting pretty bored of everything.

And it’s at that moment, as you’re sinking down to the bathroom floor to grab your charger that the most interesting thing of tonight bursts through the door.

You look at him, blinking once then twice. He does the same.

Eye candy.

That’s the first thought that comes to mind. Without an ounce of shame you let your eyes rack over his form, fitted in some sort of military outfit, tactical gear and even a prop gun. He makes it look damn good.

And then you stop admiring the hunk of prime meat in front of you because starring is rude. (Even if he is fucking amazingly charmingly rugged and god damn what you wouldn’t give to run your fingers through that mohawk of his and just tug-)

“That’s a good fucking costume.”

He pauses, looking at you with something confused and a bit bemused. And like an idiot you just can’t keep your mouth shut and blurt out more shit.

“Did ya have to bust through the door though? I mean like- don’t get me wrong it was cool as shit- really adds to the character here, big, hot, ah… military? guy.”

You wince, you’re making a fool of yourself. Luckily the man doesn't seem to mind.

(Johnny takes one look at you, your bag in a sink, your phone charging in the bathroom outlet, your clearly partly homemade costume that shows way more care than any of the other people in this joint and easily figures out-)

“L.T, Found a civvie.”

He mumbles into a- oh shit he’s got an earpiece and everything. Now that is cool. You tell him as such.

“Okay that is so fucking cool. Dude does that thing actually work? Man. How long did it even take for you to get this whole costume?”

He studies you with an odd look for a moment. You wonder if there’s actually anyone talking to him in that earpiece. Must be with the way he pauses. Slowly, he speaks; gentle.

“Not a costume lass. We ought to get you outta here, it's gonna be a shitshow soon.”

You blink. And then, you smile.

“Rightttt, not a costume. I getcha.”

“Not joking bonnie. This place is dangerous, filled with snakes. How did a wee thing like you even get in here?”

You smile, a bit pleased to banter with the first person who isn't doing the same old same old, ‘i know more than you, ooo im so big and powerful and scary’ act.

“Took a carriage ride and promised my roommate I'd be back by midnight.”

He eyes your royal esc outfit, not cinderella by any means but it still makes him smile slightly. (And boy if that isn't a sight, him looking you up and down and looking at you like that?)

“Cute. Then allow me to be yer escort princess.” He jerks his head in the direction of the bathroom door.

The statement is said with just enough sarcasm to make you bite down a grin. Hes very committed to this whole military operation act. And honestly? You were ready to leave anyway. Not to mention this guy was the only one who’d gotten your interest all night.

You grab your things and stuff them in your bag, slinging it over your shoulder tightly.

“Follow me, and ye gotta be quiet. Cant let anyone see us.”

You are more than willing to go along with his silly bit. And so you give him a clumsy salute, with a good natured smile.

“You got it captain.”

“Sergeant.”

He corrects you with an amused little puff of air. Clearly- hes just as pleased to have someone indulge him as you are to have someone interesting to talk to.

“You got it sergeant.” You repeat back with a graceful little half bow and amused smirk.

He turns back to the door, hands on his gun and before you go out you grab onto his arm.

“Wait!”

He turns to you with a raised eyebrow, eyes sharp, focused: wow hes a really good actor and hes got really pretty fucking eyes-

“Lassie?”

Oh yeah you can't get lost in his eyes just yet.

“Can I have a gun? For safety and all that- totally.”

“Hen… i don't think-”

“please sergeant? I promise I won't break it or anything! I just wanna get more into character ya know? pretty please Sir…?

…

(Johnny is not a good man. And fuck when he hears you call him by his rank, sir, asking so sweetly- your hands clasped in front of you- looking at him with a sheepish grin and pleading eyes. He wants to give you a damn bazooka if it means you keep talking sweet to him. Ghost is in his ear, telling him he better not bloody dare.)

(So of course…)

“You keep that safety on boonie. Hold it like this. If you gotta use it, don't be shooting or you’ll blow yer eye out. You toss the bloody thing in the direction of whatever it is you’re tryna hit- or you hand it to me. Is that clear?”

You nod vehemently, assuring him with little, yep’s and sure’s, and got it-’s. He raises a brow, mostly cause hes not sure if you’re actually taking this seriously. You take it for something else entirely though and then quickly say-

“Yes sir. Understood.”

(...Johnny is both damn disappointed hes on a mission, and greatful as fuck, because the only thing he wants to do is push you up against that wall, sneak his hands down your silly little costume and tease you until you’re a squirming mess. Asking you if you understand how hard hes gonna fuck you and hear your breath hitch as you answer back with a wanton “Yes sir”—)

“Sergeant…?”

You stare at the fellow and his intense gaze, wondering if you took it too far. Hes committed to his bit sure, but you didn't mean to overstep and make him feel like he had to give you a gun. Clearly they were expensive props, detailed and metallic and heavy.

Instead of speaking to you, he speaks to his earpiece, “just a precaution L.T, what if her majesty gets cornered? Little lass don't have a lick of combat training.”

You -far to ready to add to this stupid little bit- chime in,

“Yeah, they only teach you fencing and the waltz where i'm from.”

Johnny grins, “Com'on L.T”

(As much as Ghost hates to admit it- Johnny is right. And so be begrudgingly relents. It seems everyone is amused by how utterly oblivious you are because Gaz spares a laugh and a cheeky comment after Ghost's gruff voice.)

“Soooo… what's the verdict Sergeant? Did your uh… LT? That's lieutenant right-? Does he approve?”

In response, Soap carefully positions a gun in your hand, telling you with an edge to keep your fingers away from the trigger. (Safety is on of course, Johnnys not an idiot all the time.) You nod, holding onto the gun and feeling so cool.

Like that the two of you are off, sneaking around the winding corridors and hiding.

Honestly? This is the most fun you’ve had since you got here. Its all you can do to not bounce on your heels when you follow Soap around.

He's just so into this, that you can't help but be sucked in. Speaking in low tones to his ear peice, making sure you stick close, talking about positions and other military jargon that goes over your head. Oh and he does it all with this charming smile, like the situation is serious yes- but like he's still making sure you’re having fun. Trying to keep you comfortable. The energy is tense but in a good way. Electric even.

You find yourself holding your breath whenever you hide behind a corner, or when he tugs you to him and holds you still- god it's just so thrilling. Maybe because you’ve had a boring night, and cause he's charming and fun in all the right ways- but you’re having a blast.

Even when things seem to get even more tense.

You and Soap are currently nestled away in a little nook, a back corridor, a dead end. Soap curses, speaking into his earpiece. You can hear footsteps, someones coming. And if they see you and Soap- you'll surely be compromised.

(Which means your little game will likely come to an end. Most of the party people here are judgmental, ergo they probably won't appreciate your little roleplay. Its in this moment that you decide- fuck it, you dont want this to end.)

“Sergeant!” You whisper harshly, tugging off your fancy coat and draping it around him, “I’ve got a plan- trust me.”

He looks at you, mildly conflicted, he's about to say something but the footsteps are getting closer and you really need a cover story for why you’re lurking in a dark corner away from the party. You can only think of one reason two people would sneak away at a party.

Sue you for getting too into this silly game of pretend, but adrenaline spikes and next thing you know; you’re kissing him.

Rough and messy, needy. You let out your best wanton muffled moan. His eyes are wide, and for a moment you spiral, realizing what you’ve just done. Sure you were playing pretend and he was committed to the bit but you just kissed him for fucks sake- sexually harsssed him!

Oh god hes gonna hate you and you just ruined all that fun banter and any shot at ever speaking to the only decent person you’ve met all night—

He’s kissing back.

With sudden haste he pulls you close, kissing you back with a ferocity that short circuits your brain for a moment. His knee slots in between your legs, entangling you two, and then there's a soft thud as his back hits the wall.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Your heart races, a slurry of adrenaline, of elation because he was playing along with your silly cover story, of something hot and molten because he was running his hands along your outfit desperately.

Amidst the heat of it all, the grinding of his knee between your legs- you don't even notice the fact that the footsteps stopped. Johnny does though. He breaks the kiss with a purposeful loud noise, when he sees your dazed and confused expression however- he quickly aims for your neck before you can say a word and accidently give away the clever cover story you thought of.

You gasp, the noise does wonders. He can hear whoevers about to round the corner shifting about, obviously realizing what's going on and debating if they should check to be sure or spare their eyes of the sight.

So of course, Johnny helps them decide by laying it on thick.

“Fuck atta girl hen, wanna hear you fall apart f’ me.”

He presses you against his knee, nibbling at your skin to make your breath stutter. Thankfully, you catch his words and seem to get at least to some level what he's doing.

So of course, because god damn it- you’re in the thick of this silly military operation act now- you’ve gotta commit. You moan out the worst thing you can think of to make someone go away. Which is of course—

“Daddy!”

(Johnny can hear Gaz fucking roaring with laughter over coms. It takes everything in himself not to laugh then and there. Luckily, having a pretty little thing pressed against his knee and trembling provides a good distraction. Still, he can't repress the grin.)

“Yeah? Need something kitten?” He captures your lips again, a quick kiss this time, just to leave you breathless for your next remark.

“Y-Your c-” Oh my fucking god you dont know if you’re struggling to speak because you’re trying your damndest not to laugh, or because you are painfully terribly aroused at due to his kisses and husky voice. Thank god he intervenes.

“Whats that kitty? Yer gonna have to speak up. Lemme hear that sweet voice of yours.”

He guides you across his knee, you tangle your hand in his hair, tugging that stupid mohawk close to kiss him again.

When you quickly pull away, you rush out the words, failing to hide the look of pure hysterical amusement on your face- luckily the rush of words is mistaken for neediness and not because you are seconds away from bursting into laughter.

“Your cock-”

He captured your laughter in another kiss, groaning to hide the sound of your stifled snickers.

Finally, after what seems like ages and yet too little time- he hears Ghost in his ear giving him the all clear. Not without clear amusement.

Johny backs off, panting heavily and listening. He hears nothing but empty air. Quietly he whispers,

“They’re gone.”

You pant as well, trying your best to keep your hysterical little giggles quiet. Johnny is right there with you, like fucking schoolgirls- the two of you giggle for a moment.

Ah but you should probably apologize.

“H-Hey im sorry by the way- for kissing you out of the blue like that, i didn't know if you’d be comfortable with it but uh- i kinda got invested in the whole-”

You wave a hand about as he backs off you, pulling his knee away from your heat between your legs.

“-‘Don't get caught’, thing. Sorry if i um- took it too far and make you uncomfortable…”

(Johnny looks down at you, pretty little oblivious thing, looking all sheepish and nervous as if there wasn’t the high potential you just saved both his and your asses with your quick thinking.)

“All good lassie. Good quick thinking.”

(As much as he’d love to tease you more about it- or even tell you just how much he enjoyed kissing you until you were breathless- he’s still on a mission, and you need to keep moving.)

(So for now, he settles for a hair ruffle and a wink. You smile all the same.)

The pair of you continue, and you are starting to wonder where you’re going. This ain’t the way you came in- though, you suppose coming in via the main entrance would defeat the point of the game. Which was of course: to sneak you out undetected. Walking through the hall of party-goers probably wouldn’t be the best call.

Still, it's odd when you find yourself stopping at a room. It appears to be locked, a passcode and everything. This doesn’t seem to be an issue though.

(“Intel says they left the hard drive here. Code is 269344041.” Johnny listens to Ghosts voice, inputting the code easily. He ignores the confused look you end him in favor of mumbling-)

“a’m in.”

You blink as he talks to his earpiece. Carefully and quietly as you enter the room, you ask,

“Um… sergeant? What are we doing in here?”

“Looking for a package hen.”

(“Should be in a small red box.” Ghost relays.)

“-Little red box. Help me look?”

You nod like the helpful little thing you are and begin to search the room. It’s a storage unit of sorts. Bunch of random shit, you even spot a cool ass box of skeleton bones. That you show to your newfound companion.

He grimaces and gently sets the box down away from your hands.

“Let’s not touch anything else alright lassie?”

It’s framed as a question but really it’s an order. You just shrug, and then remember your line was supposed to be, ‘yes sir.’

“Yes sir.”

The search doesn’t take long after that, a few minutes max before you spot a little red box high up on a shelf. All the things around it are collecting dust, but the dull red colored cardboard seems to be free of it. Placed there recently it seems.

Maybe this whole immersive thing was planned out, and maybe it was pure luck you got roped into it. Everything was awfully elaborate after all. With him knowing the code and stuff.

“Sergeant i think i found it.”

He’s on you in and instant,

“Where?”

You point up the shelf. “That it?”

He carefully grabs it, opens it up and shuts it before you can get a good look. Looked kinda like a flash drive? A flash drive inside a plastic baggie.

“That’s what we’re looking for alright. Good work lassie. Ye might as well be a recruit at this point.”

He’s joking it seems, so you smile back in turn.

“Lived a bit too cushiony of a life for military work i’m afraid.” You gesture once more to your royal outfit. “But i’ll consider the offer sergeant.”

He takes you by the arm, tucking the box into his vest and leading you to the door.

“Glad to hear it princess.”

After that, it’s more sneaking about, more little bits of banter whenever you can, and listening to him speak into his earpiece. It’s dreadfully fun, the most fun you’ve had all night and honestly? At any party ever.

Finally- Finally, you seem to make your goal as you feel open air on your skin. That took forever to get out, with how massive the place was, but by god it was fun sneaking around like a super spy with…

Oh. You come to the sudden realization that you don’t actually know his name. That and- you never gave him your name either.

Well, this is where you leave so…

“Hey i just realized i never got your name.”

He turns to you for a brief moment, his hands on your arm now, tugging you along away from the building so that the bouncers at the front won’t see you. The two of you stop a little ways away.

“Soap. Or Johnny if you’d prefer.”

He says it so simply, with such an easy smile.

“And you princess?”

You say your own back, and it sounds so nice on his tongue. So right.

“Um- if you wouldn’t mind-“ You’re fishing in your bag now for your barely charged phone, wanting to get his number because he seems like a stand up dude and-

Soap touches his earpiece, “Package and civilians secure L.T. Good to go.” He says it quiet enough you don’t hear it, too busy looking for your phone.

(“Roger. Gaz move in.”)

“-could i maybe get your number? After i find my phone, of course. it’s just uh, well i had a lot of fun. Truth be told the night was pretty shit before you found me so if it’s okay with y-“

Your eyes widen when you see behind Soap, several Military troops storming the place, all of them holding what look to be- very real guns.

“What the fu-?”

You start, dropping your phone in a shock and completely shattering the poor device against the pavement.

Johnny can’t seem to bite down his grin.

Slowly, and yet all too fast, everything clicks as soon as you hear gunshots.

At a snails pace your head turns towards Johnny. Soap. The sergeant. The real sergeant.

“I did tell ya it wasn’t a costume hen.”

You were such a fucking idiot.

——————

Awkwardly you sit in your chair, taken in for interrogation. Less that and more for protocol considering everyone agreed you didn’t know jack shit.

Apparently, you went to the wrong party and somehow ended up at a terrorist gathering, which would explain the weird vibes of all the guests. And the super big and confusing building. And the many locked doors. And the—

The more you thought about it, the more stupid you felt so at some point in the hours of being on this stupid military base, you stopped.

To your utter horror and humiliation: Soap was a real sergeant. On a real mission. And he gave you a real ass fucking gun. And you had kissed him and oh god he had his knee between your fucking legs- you called him daddy.

Physically unable to handle the shame and embarrassment, you make a noise similar to that of a dying cat and bury your face in your hands.

The person ‘interrogating’ you, (a nice man that everyone called Gaz), just laughed. At the very least your misery was amusing.

“I am- so, so so fucking sorry, oh my god i’m such an idiot.”

“Don’t worry about it love. It helped to keep you calm. Better than dealing with panicking eh?”

You nodded because he made sense. It didn’t mean you were happy about it- but it did make sense. Soap tried to tell you after all. Honestly it was probably for the best you thought it was all a joke. Who knows what you would have done if you knew it was for real, probably panicked and gotten both yourself and him killed.

Gaz pats your head, an amused but sympathetic smile on his face.

(God fucking damn it, were all sergeants just naturally this fucking charming??? …You don’t have a thing for military guys do you?)

When the captain of this whole thing walks in, John Price; with a smile like that of a damn koala bear and air of authority- you decide that, yeah. Maybe you do have a thing for military types.

Go figure.

“You're free to go love.”

You sigh with relief, mostly because you don’t physically think you can handle anymore embarrassment. Your face is starting to hurt from all the cringing you’ve been doing. How are you ever gonna live this down?

“Afraid your phones broken though. Do you know the way home?”

No. Obviously not. You were taken here via military truck with the other soldiers. Frankly you could be in a different country right now and you wouldn’t know because you passed out at some point from the sheer embarrassment of it all.

(Price of course, knows this. He just wants to see you squirm a little longer. Is it wrong? Yeah. But he’ll be damned if you aren’t the most fun thing to mess with.)

“Um no- sir.” You tack on the title quickly, unsure exactly what to call him.

“Alright. I’ll have one of my men escort you home.”

As long as it’s anyone but Johnny you should be able to survive a car ri-

“Soap.”

Fuck.

“Take my car and escort the little lady back home.”

…You just had to think it, didn't you?

(Price knows he’s cruel for messing with you. Mean and terrible really. But the face you make when he calls Soap into the room? Where you look like you go through every stage of grief before landing on depression in .5 seconds?)

(Priceless.)

——————

The car ride is just as excruciating as you thought it would be. Even worse- Soaps a good guy. Charming and fun, sweet even. He jokes and teases you but tries his damnest to make the car ride as comfortable as possible.

Hell he even offers to stop someplace and buy you something for the road. And offer you not let would refuse; but you were at the base for hours, and it’s like 2 AM and you are exhausted and hungry and embarrassed.

So the two of you get some takeout, and eat in Prices car. You would be worried about eating in the car, but Soap makes you comfortable, assuring you the captain would probably be more upset if he let you go home on an empty stomach.

The rest of the drive is cozy after that. He pulls laughter out of you, and embarrassed groans but it’s all in good fun.

By the time you get home, you’re most definitely a little unsteady on your feet just due to how tired you are. He helps you out of the car, and even walks you to your door.

Before he leaves, you awkwardly debate giving him your number. Just so you could buy him drinks or something later down the line to make up for your utter stupidity today- but then you remember your totaled phone.

Damn.

And then, a god seemingly hears your prays because he’s slipping you a sheet of paper.

Drowsily you blink down at it to find a king number string. A phone number.

When you snap your eyes back up to him, he’s grinning.

“You wanted it right lass? Give me a call sometime.”

And then, he’s winking and walking away. Just like that.

…huh. Maybe you should go to parties more often.

#john soap mactavish #soap x reader #cod fanfic #tf 141 x reader #(kinda?) #Kissing #fanfic #go look at auspicioustiddings they’re cool #Read Firewatch #I don’t normally write romance tbh #Those were definitely probably not prop bones #Also reader 100 percent shows up with baked goods down the line #Bro is never gonna live this down #I wouldn’t either #The embarrassment could kill a man.

[diejager]

are there any aus from other creators u like? or ones u want to write about? or do u want suggestions to check some out? cus their are loads of cools ones

Oh, absolutely!

The first that comes to mind - for the AUs I’d want to write - is @sunshine-and-moonshine Alpha!141 x Delta!reader, it has so much potential and it’s really good despite it being short ideas.

There’s also @ohbo-ohno and @ceilidho’s works on Ghoap x reader, the whole puppy play and obsession is just so delicious! I, personally, don’t think I’d be able to write the same dynamic as well as them, but I love reading about it.

As you probably know, @konigsblog, or Orla, has salivating AUs and ideas that you should absolutely check if you haven’t, especially her König and Soap stuff, it’s so amazingly filthy. I am a slut for it.

You have @sweet-as-an-angel for the DARK CONTENT like Zombie!141 or Yandere fics (there’s a lot to read and you could spend your whole day on the blog) and @tacticalanklebiter3000 simply for how crazy and funny her stories are, I would definitely recommend her thoughts and quick drabbles about hybrid or werewolf AU.

@cobwebs-in-autumn has a lot of prompts that they haven’t expanded on - as in long ass stories - but are worth the read. I even got their permission to write on one of their prompt! (Stalker!reader x Soap is lingering on my mind and won’t leave)

@gremlingottoosilly has a lot of juicy stuff, especially her Monster!König or Your Ride Will be Here Shortly, it’s a poly!141 x fem!reader.

Ah, sweet, sweet @auspicioustidings has a lot of hidden works(check her AO3, that’s where you find her hidden treasures, I’m looking at you Mhairi👀) with Ghoap x reader or them separately.

@halcyone-of-the-sea writes long stories, but they’re worth the time, varying between 3k to 15k, she recently reached 8k followers so she has an event open that I’m excited to read! I, however, am in love with Ravishing Allure, a Nikto x fem!reader soulmate AU.

If you want some good Angst, I’d recommend @peachesofteal, especially Dead Disco, a beautiful piece of Angst with enough of Fluff to make sure your heart doesn’t shatter.

@ghouljams writes a lot of AUs, like, a lot, and they’re all increasingly written and explored. Some might be short and others medium length, but they are really good.

And on the topic of drabbles and short pieces, there’s @frogchiro and her AUs, her hybrids, God of War!Ghost, or her Colonel König.

@charliemwrites is someone I recently followed and she gave me some intense brain rot with her Woof woof Johnny, Charmed Slasher GHost, childhood friend Simon and Rabid reader.

Finally there’s @placeinthemiddleofnowhere’s Reign Down on Me, it’s a handler!Ghost x wolf hybrid!reader. You should go check her out on tumblr or AO3, I enjoyed reading it.

These are all that I have on the top of my mind at the moment, there are a lot more talented writers that I haven’t named or found, but here are my subjections! I’m open to other stuff, if you have other suggestions, the more the merrier in writing, no?

[goodday-goodmorn]

Little blurb that’s been sitting in my Docs for while based on @auspicioustidings idea from a while ago now i think— But yeah! I’be got like zero motivation to continue this- butttttt i liked the scene a lot so it shall be seen now! (Plus it’s Mhari’s Birthday!!! Happy Birthday Mhari! :> Even though i’m a few hours late into the day Hope you’re having a wonderful birth celebration!)

Based on a a scene i cooked up where reader finally gets caught by none other than the Ghost himself:

The weight of a gun in your hand is familiar.

So is the quiet sounds of a break in. You point at the door, watching, waiting. Like clockwork it creaks open, and there he is.

“Don’t move.”

You say sharply. Making the gun in your hand well known to the intruder.

Silence. He stares at you, you stare back. How many times have you done this dance? Tense words and a dashing messy escape. (The poorly wrapped bandages around your abdomen throb answering you question for you. Too many then.)

You sigh, and lower the gun.

He doesn’t even look suprised.

With a soft, Thump! ,you plop backwards onto the bed, arms outstretched. The gun is still in your hand but it’s dead weight. (Just like you.)

“…You’re not gonna ever stop are you?”

It’s said up at the shitty hotel ceiling. Hushed in the darkness of the room.

“No.”

He says it so simply.

You hum, pulling your knees and legs up onto the bed and rolling over. Back facing him, on your side. You snag a plushie on the way, hugging it close to your chest and settling your chin atop its head.

“Well shit. Turn all my red flags to white then, i give up.”

Defeated. Hushed. Tired. It sounds so unlike your normal voice. “But you already knew that didn’t you?”

There’s a dip in the bed, true to his namesake- he was silent as he walked to sit. You haven’t even heard him.

“…Who did your bandages?” Gruff bastard with his gruff voice. Sounding way too passive for talking with you, an enemy, his target actually. He should be barking orders and threats to you, you’ve heard the way he speaks on a mission before, all bite and harsh. But he shows none of that tension now. Not a lick of hostility.

“Who do you think?” You snort out, tucking your face into the head of the plushie and vehemently ignoring him.

“Kid, you need help. You can’t survive on your own.” Straight to business it seems.

Without even turning to look at him, you halfheartedly raise your middle finger.

He sighs.

Silence. Blissful, damning, silence. You’ve no more fight left to give and he knows it. Months on the run, months of constant near death escapes, months of being hunted like a dog. You’re tired. So tired.

“Ya know, Torture isn’t an effective way of getting info outta someone: statistically speaking.”

“We’re not gonna torture you.”

“But you do want that info don’t you?”

More silence.

You hum knowingly.

“And what happens after you get your precious information? You’ll kill me? Maim me like all the other fuckers who end up in your shit list?”

“No. Never.”

He says it with such ferocity it almost takes you by surprise for a second. If you were to be facing him, you would see the hardness of his eyes. The pure conviction swarming in his gaze.

“Not you. Never you.”

…

Finally you turn to him, feeling far too much like a young little kid on the playground who just can’t understand-

“Why?”

Something in his gaze softness. He wants to tell you this because he cares. The team cares. All of them- that they saw you, a prickly, panicked little bird in over their head and flying blind- but he knows it an answer you won’t accept. One you won’t understand. Not at this stage. Not yet. You don’t believe in words, you’ve been lied too far too many times for that.

So he says something you will believe. A watered down version of the truth that feels like such a disservice to everything that makes up your very being.

“You’re interesting.”

You seem to digest his words. Turning them over and thinking in that little head of yours.

‘How long is that interest gonna last?’

That's what you want to say. You want to scream at the top of your lungs that he doesn’t want you. No one does. He’ll get sick of your brashness eventually- he’ll learn and grow used to your tricks. And when your spontaneity grows old, you know what’ll happen.

But you don’t.

You say nothing except—

“…Can I at least pack my bags? …please?”

He knows you don’t have much to pack. He also knows you’re one tricky, flighty little bird. However, he heard your small plea, sees the defeated look in your eyes, the way your hand is so lax around the gun.

Gently, oh so gently, he takes the gun from your hand. You don’t even try and fight him.

“Sorry little bird. Can’t trust you to pack.”

The sad look on your face nearly makes him reconsider. But he can’t risk you getting away again. Not when you’re so easy to catch right now. So vulnerable.

“Can’t you restrain me and then i’ll tell you what to pack?”

That, he can do.

“Up.”

Commands come so naturally to him. You’re almost jealous at how easily they fall from his lips.

Like the old defeated dog you are, you listen, sitting up and presenting your hands to him to restrain. You don’t meet his eyes.

He takes no chances, you are securely bound with a pair of handcuffs. He tugs on them, standing you up and nudging you to the common area of your hotel room. It’s a sizable room, a nice hotel, though truthfully you hadn't really been thinking when you booked it. Brain to frazzled and exhausted to think about anything beyond a clean bed and a hot shower.

The lights are flicked on by his gloved hands, flooding your vision. You hiss blinking and adjusting while he nudges you to the center of the room, down into your knees.

“What am I looking for here, bird?”

Your gaze flicks to him, then to the corner of the room, a vent right by a little corner desk with a lamp.

He follows your gaze and then, (with one last hard look towards you that screams ‘stay’), he walks over. Inside the vent is a crumpled up backpack, old and raggedy. It looks out of place amongst the clean cream colors of the hotel amenities.

He prods at the thing, trained caution. (You don’t blame him after your last stunt with explosives.)

Unceremoniously he opens up the bag and dumps all its contents on the floor. You wince, watching your whole life be scattered on the ground.

A journal, a thermal blanket, a lighter, cash, USB sticks, Your laptop in its thick padded casing (thank god), stolen hotel amenities, nicotine patches, several pill bottles, a half empty water bottle, a pocket knife, bullets…

Your own personal little horde of trinkets.

“Was that necessary…?” You mutter, as he stuffs some stuff back into the bag.

“Can’t blame me for bein’ cautious.”

“Well- i could.”

He turns to look at you. Just… stares at you, all you can see is his eyes at that dreadful mask, boring into yours. He doesn’t need to say anything. You both know you could but you never. Been through too much to really blame him.

You’ve saved his life before, even though he was hunting you. You both know you would never blame him for doing his job. Not at this point.

(Just as he would never blame you for running.)

#cod fanfic #fanfic #go look at auspicioustiddings they’re cool #reader insert #simon riley x reader #I have so many thoughts about this au #Simion is a treat in this #so soft #Reader on the run who is resourceful and just so absurd in their demeanor #i’m talking pulling out insane insults as they run #calling ghosts mask moldy lol #But also is a reader who is just so defeated and tired #they don’t wanna run anymore #not from 141 #not from banter through texts #not from stupid reaction images #not from strangers offering in full confidence to doordash you food while you’re starving #not from the resulting jokes about them trying to get an address out of you #Not from the warm yet hearty meal that shows up anyway #not from the closest thing to family they’ve ever known #but how could they ever stay? #It’s a dynamic set to fail #They are a target #An objective #So what happens when 141 finishes their mission #what happens when they are caught? #ANYWAY— Happy birthday Mhari!!!

[goodday-goodmorn]

Not used to posting things so fast- But the brain worms have infected me and @auspicioustidings concepts give me life. Once again- another from them, i felt contractually obligated to write this because my auntie is in Vegas for her birthday right now.

The concept in question

Not the after effects of waking up- but rather the proposal itself. This one’s short cause i pumped it out real quick. Just a little dabble.

————————

Ah Vegas. City of love. Wait no that was Paris- city of… sin? Well that sounded too much like a trashy YA romance novel for your tastes so- Vegas, City of…

Vegas: City!

God maybe you should lay off the M and M’s. Lavender and Bright cyan blue little things from the M and M factory are making you really taste the rainbow. Shit that was skittles catchphrase wasn’t it? Actually- did M and M’s even have a catchphrase other than the sexy brown M and M? Though that was less a phrase more a person. Er- candy. Chocolate.

Pah! You should have never gone to the M and M factory. Stupid little chocolate candy is making you think far more than you can handle right now.

Seriously it’s messing with your head. You’d better get rid of them.

You throw your M and M factory bag onto the floor, watching all the candies scatter the pavement in an explosion of color. That's why the pretty colors are so dangerous and not sold in the normal packs. They make people all loopy. Cause there’s no other reason you would be so outta sorts.

Except maybe the daiquiri you’d had. And the Manhattan. And those shots. And whatever that weird drink in a glowing lightbulb was.

Okay maybe it wasn’t the M and M’s.

Which means you just threw them out for nothing oh no! 20 dollars down the drain. And your M and M’s!

You whine mournfully over the loss, sinking to the ground dramatically and cradling one of the cyan shelled candies close.

“Is everything all… right?”

You barely register the voice- British and a bit rugged- before you are drunkenly rambling out-

“No- i thought my M and M’s were evil but they weren’t and i killed them for nothing!” You cry out, the words making you even more emotional, you pathetically sob, holding the cyan candy in your palms to your chest.

“Come back! Liveee please. Papa didn’t mean it i swear, i didn’t know what i was saying- you got me all tongue tied!”

“Hey-“

Oh british man has a very nice voice, so smooth and gentle, more than you were expecting.

“It’s alright love. We can get you some more candies.”

You sniffle.

“R-really?”

He smiles like some sort of teddy bear. Gentle and soft.

“Yes really. Just gotta get you back to wherever you’re stayin at first. It’s dangerous for a pretty girl to be on the street like this.”

You nod sollumly. “For the m and m’s yeah. Hard shells- but thin. Can’t be carrying em’ out in the cold. Poor little fellows can’t stand it.”

“Think you should be worrying about yourself first love.”

He really does look a teddy bear when he smiles. A very warm and cuddly teddy bear. Very warm. And you are oh so cold. Maybe…

“…maybe i’m and M and M.”

You mumble with a little frown, looking away from his oh so pretty eyes to instead stare at the cracked M and M in your hand.

He chuckles, it’s a nice sound.

“Com’re lovely. You’re shiverin.”

He held you up and you cling to him naturally. To your disappointment and utter display he is not as soft as a Teddy bear. Such false advertising. When you burry your head in his chest, while warm and soothing- it is firm with muscle. Hard just like his arms and co-

“Not exactly what i meant by that sweetheart.”

He’s pushing you away! Away from the warmth.

“No, I'm an M and M- gotta be warm or else I'll crack! Do you want me to die?”You whine out trying to stay close but he’s very strong, holding you firmly away from his toned chest.

(And raging boner. Not that you noticed it.)

“I know, I know- here. I’ll give you my coat.”

He wraps you up in his thick but soft coat and you relax immediately, snuggling into the fabric. With your eyes closed you hear the rumble of his chuckle.

“There’s a girl. Nice and warm now?”

You nod, making a drowsy and soft little “Yup.”

“Good. Now come’on. You know where's your hotel at?”

“Huh? We can’t go there! We gotta get more M and M’s first. Silly.”

“Right, course. Silly me.”

You giggle a bit hysterical. He agrees with you so easily, letting you link arms with him and walking you to the M and M factory. He’s so silly. With his cozy coat and koala-esc smile and pretty eyes and rumbly voice and-

“I think m’ in love with you.” You slur out, gazing at him with half lidded eyes.

“Shouldn’t say stuff like that sweetheart. Might give a guy ideas.”

Ah Ideas, you’ve got a lot of ideas. So many fun ones- but mostly one that you blurt out after he gently pushed your hand away when you tried to pay for your new M and M’s.

“I think I wanna kiss you.”

Price pauses as he tugs you outside the shop. Looks down at you, clinging to his arm, wrapped up in his coat; with the sweetest face and clearly wasted out of your mind. Price isn’t a good man. A good man would have called you a cab to get you back to your hotel. Would have asked if you had any friends to get you there. Would have gently told you to go to the stupid M and M factory another time.

He’s not a good man but even Price isn’t fucked up enough to take advantage of a pretty drunk girl. Even if his self control is wilting the more time he spends around the mess that is you.

He shakes his head with a little sigh, leaning down close to you and mumbling.

“S’ not a good idea to kiss strangers love.”

“So then marry me and we won’t be strangers.”

…Self control John. Self control.

“Will you marry me please?”

You plead with the teddy bear man, he’s just so cozy and pretty you can’t help it. You wanna kiss him soooo bad but he’s right you can’t kiss a stranger! But if he was your husband then it would be perfectly acceptable. And you are an ordained minister technically so it all works out!

Price looks at you, your pleading eyes, your softness, you wrapped up in his coat and clinging to his arm. Pretty little thing.

…He deserves to let his self control slip just this once right?

#fanfic #fiction #reader insert #john price #price x reader #cod fanfic #john price x reader #go look at auspicioustiddings they’re cool #once more #Mahairi drables is like my favorite tag to look at #Also cause it’s likely they will see this- #Erm hello! #Again! #Cod #drabble #Should i continue this? #Unsure