#valeria x black reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loveindefinitely · 3 months

Text

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ PRINCESS TREATMENT — price + gaz x reader

01 — THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT

featuring. kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price

warnings. fem!reader, fmm, friends to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence, frequent mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, discussions of mental health

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

If you had to say when, exactly, everything changed, you’d put it down to a single monarch butterfly.

Walking down the tight alleyways of Las Almas, the sky a four o’clock black, a lone street light casts a gentle yellow over your frame. The air is stagnant, the warmth of late spring mixed with the type of humidity that only comes before a storm, your boots clicking against the stone beneath your feet.

With a leather jacket wrapped tight around you, you fall into the rhythm of it all. It’s just before five in the morning, and you know that you should be heading home any minute, but you find yourself rejecting the idea.

Everytime you leave for the night, just to breathe, to live for no one but yourself, it gets harder and harder to make your way back through your bedroom window. You know the guards are getting antsy, too, your payoffs for their silence on the issue becoming less and less worth it. Not when it’s becoming an ultimatum between some quick cash and a slow death.

You wish you were given that choice. Mightn’t even care which option you happened to receive.

It’s quiet, in these parts. No sign of the city that had been ruined by mercs, no sign of the destruction that had once lay beneath one man’s boots.

Instead, this city now sits in the firm grip of El Sin Nombre – the way it had once been, and if your family has it how they want it, the way it shall forever be.

Underneath your breath, you hum, a tune you’d picked up from the local radio. Every morning, you listen to the daily news reports, the weather, the latest celebrity gossip. Without fail, El Sin Nombre is never mentioned. Neither are the missing persons, the families torn apart by the woman you call boss.

The end of the alleyway is coming up, the main street ahead barren of people, except the odd homeless person or fitness nut getting their morning fix.

Just as you’re about to turn around and manually move your feet back to your home, the smallest of movements catches your eye, right by a potted plant sitting at the street corner. You’re not sure how, or why, it catches your attention – but it snags it, hook line and sinker.

Quickly looking both ways, you take a cautious step towards what appears to be a small aloe vera plant, stopping in your tracks when you realise what’s perched upon the tallest of the stems, its burnt orange wings fluttering with the small breeze.

A butterfly.

It hasn’t spooked – not yet, not with your careful movements – and it seems so insignificant. So small, with the family homes lining the streets, the independent stores setting up for the day.

With you, your massive life, your massive boots to fill.

And it just sits.

Flaps its wings.

A shot sounds.

Jumping back, your eyes catch the butterfly taking off into the sky, its sun-kissed wings taking it as far away from the horror as possible. Exactly as you should be doing.

Screams echo around you, another bullet sounding, and then another, and another –

Hand resting at the gun sitting in your thigh hollister, you whip your head towards the sound, the yelling, the rushed Spanish leaving people’s mouths. Gringos. El Sin Nombre. Death. Stay down.

Taking a sharp right turn onto the main street’s footpath, another shot fires, this time much closer. Much more real, tangible. Hand fully fisting around the handle of your pistol, you take the corner to the sidestreet – the source of it all – with quiet ease.

Multiple cartel members – expendable pendejos, Valeria would say – have guns not unlike your own, aimed at two separate men hidden behind a parked car. They’re crouched behind it, peaking and launching their own retaliating shots, hitting either shoulders or necks.

They fire off quick, dirty shots, one bursting through the car’s windows, shattering the glass, before lodging in one of the mens’ head. He falls, blood and brain matter splattering on the brick wall behind him. None of the others even spare him a look.

“Get ‘im!” A deep, rough voice calls – British, assertive, mature – the one furthest from you. He’s adorning a boonie hat, pulled down to cover the tops of his ears, facial hair decorating his jawline and upper lip.

They both seem to be exerting themselves, clearly having done a lot of activity and planning before the current scene. Nearly all of the civilians are out of the area, the two foreigners taking care to not harm any of the innocents.

Certainly a step up from the cartel.

There’s four left, all taking shots at the car, some bullets ricocheting off of the flat metal. Back to the opposite wall, you take out your pistol, switching off the safety with a single brush of your thumb. Keeping it extended in front of you, both hands holding it, you make your way silently closer to the confrontation, keeping behind them all.

The second foreigner – tall, all slim muscle, radiating warmth and self-assurance – takes a sweeping step away from the car, delivering final head shots to all but one.

Clawing against the ground, trying to gain his footing, pistol flung metres away from him, he lets out groans of agony. He’s been shot in the knee, it seems like – yeah, definitely been shot in the knee, by the way he screams when he tries to rise on it.

Doing quick head checks, the younger foreigner keeps his gun raised at a safe level, before walking over to the wounded member.

The lone soldier grunts when the lithe man smacks the butt of his gun against his temple, his head twisting with the force of it. You can tell he’s being kept alive.

“Fuck, Cap,” the younger man hisses, hooking his thumb in his vest, throwing his head back slightly. In the streetlight, from your close distance, you can see a droplet trail down his Adam’s apple. Collect at the hollow of his throat, glisten in the dim light.

The other, ‘Cap’, presses his hands against his knees, using the momentum to stand, wiping the back of his glove against his mouth. Quickly scanning his surroundings, you dart behind a small, abandoned street stall, crouching as you do so.

No shots are fired – you consider it a win.

“C’mon, we gotta get ‘im to exfil,” he grunts, and when you move back to watch them in full view, you see him jog over to stand next to his partner. Leaning down, he pulls his arm around the unconscious man, lifting him up with the younger’s help. They swing his arms around the necks of them both, their hands keeping him upright between the two.

“Ale and Rudy are gonna have our asses for the stray shots,” the black-haired one groans, but there’s a relieved smile stretching over his face. “Hopefully this guy has the intel they want.”

“If he doesn’t,” ‘Cap’ returns, a humoured look written all over his face, “We’ll have their asses.”

Intel. They want… intel. On the cartel, on El Sin Nombre. Something you have in spades. In fact, you were probably the closest thing to a gold mine when it came to information of the Las Almas cartel. Wouldn’t even need torture to get you to speak.

You’d heard of Alejandro and Rodolfo. They were considered legends by the townspeople, the men who nearly took down the cartel. The true face of the Mexican Military – not the paid off army.

It was a shame, really, how much of their story wasn’t told.

Being shot if either name left anyone’s mouth made it a difficult one to retell. Especially to you – the Cartel’s Princess – a woman hated for nothing more than her last name.

Your step-father and ‘boss’ refused to speak of them, either. Your limited knowledge pertained to the fact that they were direct enemies of El Sin Nombre, and shared a complicated past with Valeria. You’d asked, once, what happened.

You’d never asked again.

The sun is rising, the hints of morning brushing over the deserted side street. They seem… ethereal, in this light, exhausted from work but cheerful from a job well done. At ease with each other, even with blood decorating their skin, boots covered in red.

You remember when you’d first tried to run away, fourteen and too naive to plan it beforehand, before you knew to slide cash into the guards’ belt. It had been seven minutes and twenty-nine seconds before a bullet had grazed your thigh, and you were brought back to your house. You still have the scar – both physically, and mentally.

Having to learn that running away was never a truly feasible option was a hard reality at such a young age. Sheltered, too – you didn’t understand the true way of the world. What life was like without a bounty on your head and blood money decorating your neck in the form of a pearl necklace. Hands chained with bracelets of pure gold.

The cool metal grows clammy with your own distraught, your index finger hooking around the trigger.

When you were younger, you wanted to become a journalist. You dreamt of the ability to make things known – uncover the dark secrets your family loved to hide. A servant to the public – in the most damning of ways, a true way of protecting without the need for blood on your hands. The only black metal in your hands would be that of a pen; considerably more deadly than a weapon could ever be.

You aim your pistol.

Oh, to be free. To not have to wake up every day, dreading, hating yourself for the sins of your family. Your livelihood. Freedom in not having to choose between being a bystander, or meeting the death of a traitor.

That butterfly, gods, that butterfly. It took itself wherever it wanted – got to experience the world at its own pace. Live for the sake of it, gifting the Earth for the pleasure of it all.

Grateful for just a week of substance. A week of survival.

What you’d do for just a week.

A shot fires, and you don’t move an inch from the drawback. You just stand, watching, as a body falls, and two guns are instantly aimed at you in turn.

Just a week.

Letting the gun slide from your hand and hit the floor, you raise your hands, palms facing the two. They don’t shoot – that’s all you could’ve hoped for. Being reckless was part of being in the cartel, and your very blood ran because of it.

“You want intel?” You ask, loud enough to carry to them, taking a bold step forward. With the sun not having risen, a chill settles into your bones, the tight, silk nightdress you adorn during sleep the only thing protecting you as the breeze brushes open your jacket. “I have it.”

The youngest moves to lower his gun, but a side eye from ‘Cap’ has him raising it again. The way they stare you down has your chest rising and falling in dramatic movements, and for the first time this night, you second guess yourself.

It’s the only chance you’ve ever gotten – you think, reminding yourself – and you will accept it with open arms. Just a week.

Taking careful, precise steps closer, you keep your palms facing them and face a stubborn neutral. You’d been trained in a lot of areas, sparsely, but there was no doubt in your mind that you wouldn’t be able to take either of them in a real fight. Diego had spoiled you with riches and luxury, not sparring and gunslinging.

“Wait –” the younger stretches out his hand, looking to the other with an expression. Like he’d seen a ghost. “She’s…”

“I know,” the other breathes out, his tense stance easing slightly.

As you stand, just a metre or two away from them, you look between them both. Calculating, watching, you slide off your leather jacket and drop it to the ground – showing that you have no other weapons, no bombs strapped to you.

Just a silk, blood red nightdress, an empty hollister, and black leather boots.

“You guys were pretty loud when you said you needed intel,” you narrow your eyes, flitting between them both. They shroud you in their shadows; tall, muscular – military. But not… regiment. Different, more sinister, maybe, more important. “And I saw you kill my auntie’s men.”

They both lower their weapons. Partly stupid, partly an insult. “You’re the Cartel Princess, aye?” The younger raises his brows, looking over you with studious brown.

“I left my tiara at home,” you snark. The younger smirks, approving of your response. Maybe you wouldn’t have to be stepped all over, to be taken in by them.

Jerking his head to the dead body laying between the both of them, the older levels an unimpressed gaze your way. “Was that necessary?” He asks, folding his arms over his chest and righting his posture, looking down at you.

“He was a dick anyways,” you roll your eyes, finally lowering your own hands to rest at your hips. “He tried to offer up his daughter ‘cause he was in debt.”

Both of their jaws go slack.

You shrug.

“Where are you guys going anyways?” You ask, bouncing on the heels of your feet, hands held together behind your back. Looking around, your mouth pulls into a small frown at the shattered store windows. You’d try and leave some money for them when you got back.

The smaller one lets out an almost shocked chuckle. “This isn’t – you’re not hitchhiking.”

Rubbing at the roof of his nose, the one with the boonie hat looses a thick sigh, before giving you an exhausted look. “You’re lucky Alejandro has been after your arse for years. Gaz, get ‘er gun.”

“Yes, Sir,” he jokes, roughly saluting the man before grabbing your weapon. Sliding it into his own holster, he loops his elbow through yours, and starts dragging you down the street, the other walking a bit ahead of you both.

“This went way easier than I thought,” you mutter, realising just how… simple it had been to get them to take you. No cuffs, surprisingly, and no sedatives.

Gaz, as the other referred to him as, looks down to you with a friendly smile. “Most of us know your face. Alejandro and Rodolfo have been looking for you – something about you being ‘one of the good ones’.”

“I’ve never met them,” you admit, a small crease forming between your brows. “I’ve heard of them, but… why do they care about me?”

“Apparently,” the one up ahead darts his blue eyes back to you, “You do, in fact, have ‘intel’. And…” He trails off, before shaking his head. “You’ll see when we get back to base. I think he’ll be quite happy.”

Gaz groans with a laugh. “Hate when he’s giddy. They’re so loud.”

Falling back a little, ‘Cap’ hits his subordinate lightly up the back of his head. “You’re gross. Exfil’s just off to the right.”

“Reminds me of Amsterdam,” Gaz says wistfully, his elbow still linked around yours. This might just be the oddest way to be taken in by a supposed ‘enemy’ ever. Definitely up there.

Turning, you see a black SUV parked off to the side, the windows tinted to the nth degree. You can’t see anything within them except your own reflections, the winding streets behind you three. Looking to Gaz, you ask, “Where’s my carriage?”

He gives an incredulous look. “You’re serious?”

You and his partner answer at the exact same time, the same tone, “No.”

Opening the door to the back, Cap urges the two of you in, before getting into the passenger seat. The cushions are black, too, and comfortable as you situate yourself by the window, Gaz taking the middle seat. So much for space.

“John –”

“Kate, they’ve been after her for years. We owe ‘em.”

A woman, dirty blonde hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, looks at you through her rearview mirror. She seems… displeased about your presence.

“You’re making us a bigger target,” she hisses, shooting him an annoyed look. “If they aren’t already trying to gun us down, they’re about to go nuclear!”

“Auntie and daddy don’t like missiles. Said it’s cheap,” you chip in, folding your knee so your ankle rests on your opposite knee, folding your hands in your lap. Damn, you think, You chipped your nail polish. Only lasted a day.

Silence fills the vehicle.

You hum that radio’s tune once more, and Kate exhales a deep, calming breath. Like she’s one step away from whipping out her own gun and shooting you all dead. And then herself.

“Can you turn on the heater? It’s kinda cold,” you ask, hands rubbing at your bare arms. Should’ve put your leather jacket back on before they took you.

“John,” Kate grits out, “I am two seconds away from –”

A shot fires, then two, then three. In one movement, you grab a hold of your pistol from Gaz’s hollister, switching off the safety once more and holding it to your chest. Kate instantly switches on the ignition, accelerating hard enough to have your head hitting the back of your chair with a squeak.

Gaz unwinds the window to his left, furthest away from you, and starts firing at where a dozen or so members stand at the main street, firing off shots at the car. Bracing yourself against the back of the driver’s seat, you take aim.

True as the way the sun is set to rise, you land multiple shots through vital organs, some lucky ones blasting right through their heads. Your wrist aches from the strength of your hold around your weapon, a break from childhood coming back to haunt you. You don’t stop, however, not when you’re nowhere near your breaking point.

Within seconds, Kate drives the car out of their view, dodging potholes like a professional.

It’s five minutes later, when you’re out of the main business streets of Las Almas, that your back hits your seat once more, eyes fluttering shut as you flick the safety back on.

Gaz does the same, his shoulder bumping yours with the width and sheer height of him. You feel small, between him and the door, but not unsafe. Quite the opposite, actually, with the way he sliced through those men with buttery gunmanship.

The silence, this time, is electric. A buzzing in the air, an excitement flowing through your veins.

And then, it hits you.

“Oh, shit,” you whine, dragging your hands over your face and sloping in your seat, lips forming a disgruntled pout.

“What – what happened? You good?” Gaz asks, leaning forward, placing his hand on the back of Kate’s headrest to look over you. His arm is corded with muscle, the sleeves of his shirt pulled up to his elbows, allowing a decent view of his military-grade skin.

You sit your head against the window.

“I left my favourite nail polish at home. And my favourite earrings,” you mumble, upset.

Gaz coughs, then sits back in his seat awkwardly. “...Right. Can’t you just. …Get more? If you’re cooperative, Ale–”

You punch him in his throat, and he wheezes, tears sprouting in his eyes as he coughs. “You don’t get it,” you glare at him, before patting his back. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to hit so hard.”

It’s only then that you realise John and Kate are speaking quietly up the front, low enough to not be heard by the two of you.

“Who do you guys work for, anyway?” You ask, when Gaz stops coughing, instead swallowing mouthfuls of water from the skin in his pack. He stops to stare at you.

“You ask this… now?” He questions, looking at you like you’ve lost your mind.

You shrug. “Even if you guys were mercs or something, I probably would’ve asked to be taken. Wait –” You pause, eyes going wide, mouth going slack, “You aren’t mercs, are you? Please say you aren’t.”

“We’re Special Ops. Dunno how much the old man wants me to say, so, there you go,” Gaz shrugs, pulling on his gloves. His gaze remains on yours as he does so – pulling them off by the tips of his fingers, revealing slender hands. They look oddly graceful, for a seasoned operator, and you can see the tendons pull when he takes off the other.

The sun is high enough to paint the sky in streaks of yellow and orange, swirling with the night’s dark blue. Clouds decorate the canvas like swipes of cotton, the beginnings of what looks to be a perfect Spring day. As you look out the window, watching as you pass the streets of your city, you feel an odd seed of doubt.

Not for what you’re doing – but for what you’re leaving. All of the bodies lining the streets under cartel cloths, never getting to do the very thing you’re experiencing. So many families torn apart without the option of freedom.

The glass is cool against your cheek as you drum your fingers over your lap, the tap tap tap of that song in your head looped.

“You don’t look like your pictures,” Gaz says, then, and when you turn, it’s to find him watching you studiously. He appears so relax, seated beside you, tall enough to have his head nearly hitting the roof of the car.

You raise a brow. “Didn’t realise this was a Tinder date.”

He laughs, the sound melting down your spine like the cocoa body butter you favourite. Maybe he was right about the cooperation thing – you could play nice if it meant you got to have your routine.

“I just mean,” he starts, before rolling over the words in his mouth, looking out the window before making eye contact once more. His eyes are so brown. “You’re a lot less… snobby-looking.”

You bite out a sharp laugh in shock. “Excuse me?”

He raises his hands, now, a direct copy of how you’d appeared when you first made eye contact. His smile is devastating as he says, “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just meant you have a lot more personality than expected.”

“Thought I was the type to be docile and pretty?” You quip, pulling your hair to rest over your shoulder. “How typically… male of you.”

Placing a hand over his heart, he pretends like he’s been wounded, expression twisting into one of pain. “Ouch, Princess. Way to hit a man where it hurts.”

“I know of many other places that��ll hurt,” you mutter, side-eying him. “Don’t test me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Your Majesty,” he returns.

The car starts increasing in speed, then, at a harshly quick rate – enough to have both you and Gaz sitting up straighter, checking out your windows and tightening your grips on your guns.

Price turns, twisting where he sits in the passenger seat, looking out the back window. He curses under his breath, before looking between the both of you.

“We have company.”

author's note. please leave a comment or quote reblog if you enjoyed!! i hope you all enjoy this journey with me :) xx

taglist. nothing to see here.

369 notes · View notes

aethelwyneleigh27 · 8 months

Text

Cod Characters General Dating Headcanons (part two)

+ Random and Some bits of Chubby Fem S/O Headcanons with mentions of different nationality S/O

+ What type of BF/GF they would be

Including Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski

+ Some Poly! Farah x Reader x Alex Headcanons

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Fem terms and pronouns like she/her are used for the reader

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

Please comment if you want to be added to the taglist, the next part or cod content alone. I also have content for TLOU and Resident Evil, so please specify.

Taglist: @marshmallowinamess

A/n: Hi lovelies! It's me again Lia, currently working on this one while I haven't even posted the other yet because I wanna post early and I love Valeria. Y'all don't got shit on me, I'm writing this shit while I'm in class AHAHAHA. Btw more Resident Evil content soon...

Disclaimers/warnings: Typical Cod things, OOC characters???, Unrealistic, Some suggestive themes and language, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Most of the content I've seen are on TikTok and Tumblr I don't actually play the game but I love the characters so much, same with any other content I have for other video games.

Tiny sidenote: the reader in this has been describe to be shorter than the characters and has been mentioned to have a soft body rather than the muscular type.

Valeria Garza

ꕥ (Just saying, I'd let her step all over me)

ꕥ The El Sinombre falling in love? No shit she's... semi-normal??

ꕥ Black cat/Doberman girlfriend for sure. She's extremely protective and extremely terrifying when she wants to be. Scary dog privilege if you get it. (Occasionally it's funny to imagine her as a Chihuahua)

ꕥ Dates all kinds of women, body type and other things don't matter to her because she doesn't have a type. If you catch her attention then that's that.

ꕥ Loves spoiling you in everyway possible, just sit pretty for her and she'll take care of everything. Doesn't give a shit on the amount of money she spends on you, you want it? You got it.

ꕥ Loves it when you need her, it's one of the ways she feels loved and appreciated. Would never say it out loud but loves it whenever you show her your appreciation by doing manual labor.

ꕥ The idea of you being her pretty little housewife is sending her to heaven.

ꕥ Spanish pet names galore, culture is something of importance to her so will definitely teach you Spanish if she had the time.

ꕥ Would be interested learning about your culture as well because if you're gonna know about hers then she ought to know what to call you in your language. (Definitely not self-indulgent because I'm Filipina and I know she'd pronounce it somewhat correctly)

ꕥ Doesn't ever let you know about her cartel business. You can never know and she will never allow you to get ever get involved. You're too precious to her and god forbid anything will happen to you, she will destroy the world if she had to.

ꕥ She's more of a masc lesbian, she's the type who likes to be in charge in a "I'm the one who wears the pants in the relationship" way. She's very dominant.

ꕥ Doesn't ever even consider to be submissive, with the amount of shit she's been through. She can be vulnerable with you but in no way, shape or form could you ever top.

ꕥ You're an escape from the life she knew, it was peaceful with you. At first she wasn't used to it, definitely has reoccurring thoughts of something going wrong. You dying, getting kidnapped, falling into the hands of her enemies so constant reassurance.

ꕥ Would absolutely kill for you, no hesitation. The literally definitely of "I would burn this world for you", would absolutely deny it but you know otherwise.

Farah Karim

ꕥ Tabby cat coded girlfriend, she's down to earth and chill. She's that one neutral person everyone adores, she puts her best efforts into a relationship for sure.

ꕥ Has and will help you do your make-up all the time, doesn't matter whether you asked. She'll observe the specific way you do it and do it perfectly.

ꕥ Sweetest girlfriend ever, she has dominance tendencies but it's mainly because she's quite assertive and often makes the decisions. Can't help it, after all her field of work requires her to one up egotistic men.

ꕥ That being said, I think she's had some mild PTSD about how they treated her. Sure it made her tough and she didn't like to be bossed around (unlike angry Mexican man) but I like to think she keeps you out of it as much as possible.

ꕥ Chubby!Reader headcanon is that she literally would adore you, compliment anything and everything. Insecure? Not on her watch, she just makes you feel so loved.

ꕥ Most definitely has introduced you to Price (I feel like he's everyone's father figure except los vaqueros and characters he hasn't interacted with) and don't worry he's already looking after you as well.

ꕥ Poly! Farah x reader x Alex headcanons:

ꕥ You guys following whatever Farah says, towards relationship decisions anyway because you and Alex tend to be indecisive.

ꕥ Lot's of communication between the three of you even if it's just a small thing, consent is always key.

ꕥ Alex following his two wives around a lot, he's mostly behind you guys all the time.

ꕥ Farah is patient when it comes to a lot of things but especially you and Alex.

ꕥ You get head pats from both of them, Farah is in a more praising manner while Alex tends to be in a comforting manner.

ꕥ You cannot tell me these two won't be down to cuddle in any position because I know damn well they would be. More often it's just Alex wanting to be a little spoon.

Alex Keller

ꕥ Golden Retriever boyfriend FOR REAL. This man is the type of man to kneel down and clasp the strap of your shoe or heel when he notices it.

ꕥ You know when you pick up something near a corner of a table or underneath it? He's the type of boyfriend to subconsciously cover the edge or corner of that table so that if your head bumps into it then it wouldn't be as painful or even at all.

ꕥ Having said the first one, he also guides your head whenever getting into a vehicle because god forbid you actually hurt yourself. Not on his watch.

ꕥ Understands why you're insecure and definitely offers a lot of verbal reassurance.

ꕥ Is the type of boyfriend to say "Yes Ma'am" when you ask him to do something, doesn't matter whether it's a small thing or labor intensive. It's kinda become your guys' thing now since people take notice on it.

ꕥ Pouty kind of jealous? Not necessarily whiny but makes this sad upset face at you when jealous instead of something like Ghost or Valeria would do where they'd be glaring the person down jealous.

ꕥ Very thoughtful, he pays attention to what you want and what you need and knows the right timing.

ꕥ Forehead kiss giver, you cannot convince me this man doesn't love doing it. Especially when you're shorter than him, loves resting his chin on top of your head or burying his head in your neck.

ꕥ HATES seeing you uncomfortable, absolutely despises it. That's the last thing he wants you to feel when you're around him. Would understand if there's imminent danger around but it would literally being him back to life if you felt safe enough around him even if there was danger because you're confident in his capabilities to keep you safe.

Kate Laswell

ꕥ (LOVE THIS WOMAN, SHE'S FOR THE GIRLS BECAUSE IT'S CANON. ARGUE WITH THE WALL)

ꕥ She only ever let the TF141 and Nikolai meet you because of course she trusts them enough.

ꕥ They were like "So you're the infamous wife of Laswell huh?"

ꕥ Even before you were married, Kate called you her wife because she was ✨manifesting✨.

ꕥ She loves using it though, sometimes she'd be with coworkers and they'd invited her to go out to pub and drink but she'll refuse saying "Can't, my wife is waiting for me". She'd really rather just spend time with you anyway.

ꕥ Congrats, you made her quit smoking or at least she's trying to. She still does every once and a while when shit gets really bad but never around you because she knows that secondhand smoke is just as bad for you.

ꕥ She doesn't have a type when it comes to people so body is out of the question, if she feels a connection then she feels it.

ꕥ Anything and everything to keep you safe, if something were to happen to you, trust that she'll either get it down herself or if she can't then she'll turn to Price and Belinski for help.

ꕥ As much as possible, she keeps you away from everything. The job she has is just too dangerous and she can't risk you, not when you're one of the only good things in her life that keeps her happy.

ꕥ Definitely a workaholic, something as simple as asking her to eat or rest, maybe take a break. She'll do it, for you and because she knows you care for her.

ꕥ Doesn't half-ass anything, full effort when it comes to you especially when there's a special occasion between you two like holidays, birthdays and anniversaries.

ꕥ Also she loves making you laugh, more often with stories of her experiences with Price and also about how they met.

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

ꕥ (I CANNOT FIND A DECENT GIF OF THIS MAN FOR THE LIFE OF ME... Here's the credits to where I found the photo)

ꕥ Get this man a makeshift antenna, he would adore it. You made it for him because of his call sign.

ꕥ He sometimes wears it on missions but mostly keeps it so that it doesn't get damage because this man is definitely a horder, not in a bad way just anything you give to him is something worth keeping in his eyes.

ꕥ Gary definitely gives you handmade gifts back, when he knows you'll like something or even if it's at a random, he loves making them for you and he cried when he found out you kept those all in it's own box labeling it your treasures.

ꕥ Very shy and reluctant at first but once he's comfortable, he is tackling you for a hug when he gets the chance.

ꕥ Doesn't talk a lot, (it took me to Google when I saw that many people hc him communicating through BSL) but I like to think he does talk. It's just really selective, like a few words.

ꕥ The first time you heard his voice, you looked at him like "???". He looked at you confused at your reaction and he only realized it when you told him.

ꕥ Think that he'll try to learn sign language within your mother tongue you know, it's too cute not to think about.

ꕥ He gives off soft lover vibes, definitely far more on the gentle side compared to his comrades.

ꕥ Something in me tells me this man rambles but only and I mean only when he's already extremely comfortable around you, not used to using his voice much so expect a bit of stutter. Which by the way, he does this without knowing he's rambling and will profusely apologize with his tone of voice slowly getting more quiet. (This is your sign, comfort this man)

ꕥ Likes to crawl around and climb things for fun, another one of the reasons his call sign was formed. The first time Ghost genuinely screamed was when Roach was stuck on the side of the wall and Ghost saw him there. Kinda like when you see a roach climbing up a wall and it flies straight for you in your direction. (Happened to me by experience when I was taking a shower)

ꕥ He also likes crawling around, like this I mean. Hacker!Reader seeing this on the enemy's security camera while she tries to shut them off is just funny to me idk why.

ꕥ Chubby!Reader? Sign him the fuck up. You once sat down near him and he saw how you thought spread a bit and it was so close to his that he was just resisting the urge to touch. The voice in his head shamelessly thinking of what it would be like if you suffocated him with them.

ꕥ He loves peppering kisses, doesn't matter whether it's receiving or giving this man would straight up take your hands and use them to cup his face, his hands still being over yours and would with wait for you to kiss him or kiss you himself.

Nikolai Belinski

ꕥ (I have no clue how to write for nik but I'll try my best)

ꕥ We all know him and his jokes about his "wives" which by the way is not true and you know it.

ꕥ He's husband material however he is quite busy, not that he'd barely spend time with you but he is away a lot. There's an upside to this, he constantly calls you (Let's be real, he prefers calls over texts) just to check on how you're doing and he tells you when he's going to come home.

ꕥ Despite all his jokes, he'd never actually make fun of you. Sure he's sarcastic and talks to himself a lot but he'd never go as low as actually making an offensive joke to his lover.

ꕥ Speaking of joking, your laugh is music to this man's ears. Don't matter if you sound like a dying cat, he's still gonna make you laugh.

ꕥ Surprisingly really sweet, people are often surprised to see that man with a lover. He's very thoughtful in a sense that he's observant, sure he's quite absentminded when around you because that's the only space he's comfortable enough to do so but also because he likes listening to you.

ꕥ Does every safety measure in a helicopter possible if he knew you or Gaz would be in that helicopter, he also makes improvements to it and calls it Gaz-proofing because we all know how Garrick fell off a damn helicopter TWICE. (Idk how he does it, Gaz has some serious plot armor)

#cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #valeria garza x reader #farah karim x reader #alex geller x reader #kate laswell x reader #gary roach sanderson #roach x reader #gary sanderson x reader #Nikolai Belinski x reader #nikolai cod x reader #farah x alex #cod x female reader #cod headcanons #Aethelwyne Lia writes

647 notes · View notes

ivymarquis · 4 months

Text

So I was being a lil creep on @391780's blog and saw she'd made a comment about how {Valeria}'s so hot and so mean i just know she'd call a fat y/n something fucking terrible and make fun of her size. and whilst Imma not write any body shaming because that's fucked, my brain did black out at the mention of Valeria being terrible and wicked to Reader and this is what I came back to;

Mean Girl

Pairing| Valeria Garza x Reader Rating| M Word Count| 1.8l Kinks/Content/Warnings| Their dynamic probably isn't healthy but everything is consensual, chubby reader, anal sex, strap on, begging, punishment, name calling, slut shaming, Valeria is not dealing with reader's shit tonight, pussy slapping, squirting, aftercare

Your mother always cautioned you about bad boys growing up. You took one look at them, decided they weren’t worth the hassle and hit the books.

Which was all fine and well when you finished school with stellar grades and no distracting boyfriends, because it wasn’t boys that caught your attention regardless of if they were bad or not.

Now a mean girl?

As it turns out that is much more your style.

How exactly one ventures down the “mean girl” to “cartel leader” pipeline is a mystery for the ages, but quicker than you can blink one moment you’re being introduced to El Sin Nombre’s sicaria, and the next you’re her spoiled little house cat.

Unlike the average house cat though, there’s minimal tolerance for any foolishness or shenanigans in Valeria’s household.

She doesn’t expect much beyond your blind obedience to her every whim, and you’ve got hearts for pupils every time you look at her. Absolutely no fucking regard to the fact that you’ve gone from no relationship experience through your schooling years and gone head first into the deep end with no life jacket with Valeria Garza of all people.

That formal education isn’t doing you much good now.

Not that either of you are complaining.

Valeria isn’t difficult to live with once you learn her quirks and idiosyncrasies. She is consistent in her expectations- sets the rules, and accepts no deviations from them. Anything less is punished.

Now, considering the shit she’s probably complicit in if not outright done herself, you get off virtually scott free from punishments compared to others. You’ve still got all your fingers, limbs, and teeth thank you very much.

But that still leaves a whole spectrum of punishment.

You’ve been on your best behavior- usually stumbling into corrections on accident and learning quickly what mistakes to not make again.

By now you’ve been with Valeria long enough that new relationship jitters shouldn’t be fluttering in your belly every time to set your eyes on her. And yet- She’s just sublime. You can’t help yourself.

As someone who survived childhood and navigates adulthood by being polite and pleasant (occasionally to your own detriment), it is awe inspiring watching her enter a room and immediately take control of it. So far as anyone around her can tell, the world does in fact revolve around her and anyone stupid enough to not understand that is reminded of their place immediately.

You know that you’re not exempt from the firm grip Valeria keeps on her surroundings, but you manage to muck it up and overstep your place anyway.

“What’s that pretty brain of yours thinking about, Bunny?” she asks one night as the pair of you are reclined on the bed. It’s fairly obvious that she’s the subject of your current thoughts, looking at her like she hung the moon.

You don’t think much of it as you reply “Just thinking I have no idea what you see in me sometimes.”

Valeria makes her adoration of you painfully obvious so it’s not like you have reason to question it, but the pair of you are such polar opposites in every category, from build to disposition, that you’re the pinnacle of opposites attract. You wouldn’t survive a day in her world if it wasn’t readily apparent to anyone who might interact with you that Valeria will personally deliver their severed heads to their grandmothers’ doorstep if they don’t watch themselves. And, well- you don’t really do the self-pity thing because you can be hot and fat at the same time, but Valeria is hot in a conventional way that still boggles your mind when her clothes come off.

So yes, for multiple reasons you often find yourself wondering how the hell you managed to pull her?

The previously soft, bemused expression on her face is wiped to a cold neutral as her eyes narrow sharply at you. Ah, fuck, you have just enough time to realize you stepped out of line with that comment just as she rolls over and straddles you.

“If I wanted to fuck someone like me, Bunny, I’d just fuck myself. Perhaps you need a reminder of that?”

Next thing you know she’s got your hands bound to the headboard, ignoring the way you tug at the binds and whine as she works her strap inside your lubed up ass.

“Quit fucking squirming,” she sharply admonishes you, one hand gripping the soft flesh of your thigh for leverage as the other circles your clit to make you relax.

The beauty of a store bought cock is it’s the perfect size, part of why you can’t sit still.

As far as punishments go, once again you are getting off incredibly easy (and if you beg very, very nicely and are very apologetic and repentant you will probably get off in the conventional sense too) considering you absolutely love anal, but you’re sure Valeria already has a plan in mind to make sure she can drive her point home. We don’t want to have this conversation more than once, she’ll tell you.

“I don’t have to tell you what will happen if you cum without permission,” she reminds you, ignoring the way you whimper as she pulls her hand away from your clit as she finishes working the length of her strap in, her hips pressed flush to the plush of your ass.

“Valeria, please, I’m sorry,” you start immediately, knowing if you want to wriggle your way back into her good graces the sooner you start pleading the better.

“You’re sorry?” she mocks, ignoring the shiver that runs through you as she pulls out just to press back into you again, “We’ll see.”

Her thrusts are slow and measured with just enough force you’re seeing stars as chills run up and down your spine.

“I don’t know where the fuck you get off,” she criticizes in time with the wet clap of her hips to your ass, “questioning me of all people.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to,” well, didn’t realize she’d take it like that but she’s making it abundantly clear now.

“You didn’t mean to?” she parrots back cruelly as you whine when she presses up against something inside you that has your leg shaking. “You’re such a little slut, look at how wet your cunt is,” Valeria degrades with her eyes glued between your legs, the way your skin glitters in the dim lighting from your own wetness. There’s very little you wouldn’t be willing to do to get Valeria to pay attention to your empty cunt right now, but you also know you’re on thin ice and don’t want to do anything to cause cracks to form in the ground under you.

Your focus drifts towards the knot winding itself up in your abdomen, getting bigger and threatening to grow all consuming with each knock of her hips. Your hands twitch in their binds, tugging uselessly on reflex.

“Since you’re apparently too fucking stupid to remember the rules, I’ll make this simple for you,” she starts shortly- never mind that there’s several pieces of paper hung up on the wall to prove you’re not stupid. “My decisions are without fault- ever. You do what you’re fucking told, when you’re told. I don’t keep you here to think. I keep you here because I like watching the way your whole body bounces on my cock, got it?” The force behind her thrusts increases in increments as she speaks.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble both in pleasure from your ass getting pounded and to answer her. Maybe with someone else the sting of being called stupid (or a slut) would- well, sting. But when you mind your place and the relationship is functioning like it should, you’re happily in a place where you can turn the white noise in your brain off and just follow orders like a good girl. Good girls don’t think, they just do what they’re told.

“I’m sorry” you plea again, hoping that she’ll be more magnanimous now she’s said her peace. “I’m sorry Valeria I won’t do it again,” you promise.

“You’re sorry? Or do you just want to cum?” She lets out an unimpressed huff, hips thrusting in a way that has you squealing and thrashing against your binds.

“I’m sorry! I’m really sorry!” It’s embarrassing the way your neglected pussy is dripping down between your legs and God you just want her to ease this unbearable ache inside of you. Your thighs burn from how much they’re trembling as you scramble to appeal to any mercy Valeria has before you cum against your better judgement and really put yourself in a fucking hole.

“Please, please, please- I’ll be good I promise!” you offer desperately. The only thing you can do is focus on breathing, trying with all your might to head off your orgasm.

“Fine,” She sounds exasperated, like she’s doing you such a favor allowing you to cum. “But you take what I give you and you better be fucking grateful for it.” Valeria hisses and no sooner are you nodding your head is she swatting at your cunt- hard.

You yelp at the sudden attention to your clit, and yelp each time she lands another blow to the swollen nub between your legs. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes between how fucking close you are and the sting from her hits.

She’s not entirely without mercy it seems- or she got bored slapping your clit and wants to watch you cum now- as the hand that is striking at you drops to your clit and rubs in tight, short circles just how you like.

Valeria laughs as you flinch in anticipation of the next swing before tensing in pleasure.

You’ve got just enough sense to squeak out “Thank you! Thank you, thank you-” in a mindless babble as your orgasm washes over you wetly. You’re messy when you climax and Valeria loves watching you squirt, evident by her delighted chuckle as you ruin the sheets.

“What kind of nasty whore gets off having her ass fucked, hm? Absolutely shameless,” Valeria goads but you’re fucked dumb and can’t possibly be expected to be paying attention anymore.

Everything gets hazy after that. At a certain point Valeria does decide she’s done with you, pulling out and laughing at how you’re such a twitchy, overstimulated mess.

When you come back to the land of the living, she’s somehow managed to coax you into the tub, the pair of you relaxing in the warm water. She’s got you tucked in between her legs, leaning against her with your nose buried in the crook of her neck.

“You back with me?” she asks, tone soft and gentle as one hand strokes at your shoulder.

“Mhmm,” you hum happily, nosing against her, sated and warm in the tub.

“Good. We’ll see about scrounging up some snacks in a bit, yeah?”

That sounds like a solid plan to you, although at the moment you’re so content in the bubble of warmth she’s got you enveloped in, you could happily stay here all night.

#my writing #valeria garza x reader #valeria garza #call of duty modern warfare #x chubby reader #femslash #cod mwii

375 notes · View notes

sleepiexx · 11 months

Note

Valeria Garza x fem reader. Reader and Valeria get into a argument and reader ignores Valeria for an entire day.

Pushover

Valeria Garza x fem!Reader

Note: I love the way you think anon, some angst with some hurt comfort after it. Hope you like it!

Summary: (Y/N) has a hard time standing up for herself, this brews trouble for her when inevitably there is an argument in her relationship.

Warnings: arguing, self-depreciating thoughts

Word count: 1923

(Y/N) was a pushover. She knew it. She’d known since about the third time she made friends with someone who only ever put her down and had a hard time standing up for herself. Although she knew it, she still couldn’t stop herself. To her it felt like she wasn’t in control, like she was watching a car crash from the back seat.

This problem became basically null the second Valeria Garza came into her life. Like a guard dog on the prowl, Valeria stayed right next to (Y/N), willing to defend her at any given moment should conflict arise, verbal or otherwise.

This, as most things do, came with a downside; (Y/N) never truly got over her pushover tendencies and now arguments with Valeria were near impossible.

It was never truly an argument, really, how can you argue with someone who always caves and lets you win? Because of this, emotions went unchecked, leaving room for them to fester. What was originally only a small annoyance became a black hole eating at (Y/N)’s mind at all hours of the day.

With time, Valeria only became more protective. It was sweet at first, being so loved, safe, and protected. But once the near 5-month long honeymoon phase of the relationship wore off, (Y/N) quickly found herself annoyed.

It seemed now that she never had alone time. Every waking moment was spent with Valeria, who she loved but could only spend so much time with before she went stir crazy. Don’t get (Y/N) wrong, she was literally obsessed with her girlfriend and she loved her very much, but Valeria wouldn’t even let her go to the store by herself, and god, she felt like a kid again, needing to hold mommy’s hand to cross the street.

It was only when Valeria suggested getting (Y/N) a full time bodyguard that everything boiled over and she snapped.

“Fucking Christ, Valeria, I’m a grown adult, I don’t need someone following me around every hour of every day!”

Valeria straightened her posture, eyes darkening as she tried to keep her cool.

“All I want is for you to be safe, (Y/N).”

(Y/N)’s eyebrow twitched, a clear sign of her blatant annoyance, “It’s always that excuse with you, isn’t it? You ‘just wanted me to be safe’ when you scared off the first friend I’ve tried to make since we got together, you were ‘defending’ me when you got us kicked out of that bar because you didn’t like the way some guy was looking at me, and now, as if your presence isn’t suffocating enough, you want me followed by someone who will report back to you with everything I’ve done all day? You are so beyond paranoid, it’s actually fucking insane.”

Valeria tried to understand her, she really did, “Where is all of this coming from?”

But unlike usual, (Y/N) was not willing to step down, “You! Valeria, it’s coming from you! It’s like ever since we got together you won’t leave me alone and I’m sick of it! I need some privacy once in a while, you’re acting fucking crazy!”

“I have done nothing but protect you since we have met and you want to call me crazy? Without me, your weak ass would have gotten yourself killed. Call me suffocating and insane all you want, (Y/N), you need me.”

(Y/N) stood there with a deep glare etched into her eyes as Valeria seethed. Suddenly she felt as though she were trapped. She didn’t want to be here anymore, she could feel tears beginning to gather in her waterline but she would be damned before she let Valeria see her crying after all of that. She turned on her heel, grabbing her things and beelining it towards the front door.

“Yeah, run away,” Valeria spat, “run away like you always do the second shit gets a little bit tough.”

And (Y/N) did, not sparing so much as a glance back to Valeria’s house after slamming the door and making her way to her car. She wasted no time in starting it up and speeding away as fast as she could.

She didn’t know where to go, but what she did know was that she didn’t want to go home and she absolutely could not return to Valeria’s.

She ended up pulling into a random parking lot 20 minutes away from both her own and Valeria’s houses, finally allowing herself to break down.

Tears flowed freely down her face as sobs echoed throughout her empty car. Her thoughts ran a mile a minute, arguing with herself about everything she had said.

Was she too mean? God what was she thinking, of course she was too mean, she probably just lost the best thing in her life. She should have just let Valeria win, why did she say all of that? She didn’t really think Valeria was crazy, a little suffocating, sure, but crazy was pushing it. How could she say that to her? She loved Valeria, and she just threw it all away like that. Valeria probably didn’t even want her anymore.

She sobbed harder at the thought.

“Please, please, please don’t leave me,” she cried to herself.

She’ll have to put together one hell of an apology. Even then, there’s no telling how Valeria would react. She was right, (Y/N) did need her. This was the first time she was truly alone in months and yet she felt so, so awful. She thought she wanted this, but now with the threat of losing her girlfriend over her head she was so incredibly lonely.

She was broken out of her pity party by the buzzing of her phone. One look at the screen and she could see Valeria’s beautiful face and caller ID.

She couldn’t talk to her, not yet. What if she said another stupid thing and dug herself a deeper hole? What if Valeria broke up with her over the phone? She couldn’t bare the thought.

Instead of answering, she took her phone and turned it completely off, stuffing it into the depths of her purse. She started her car back up and drove home in complete silence, tears still running down her face.

Once home, (Y/N) sat in bed wallowing in her own thoughts and self hatred. She only got up once, to use the bathroom which in a shocking turn of events proved to make her more upset.

As she tugged off her pants, she was met with a dark red stain in the seat of her underwear. She was on her period. To her, this discredited everything she had said.

Maybe she was the crazy one. She just let all of her hormones get to her and make her yell awful things at her loving girlfriend. Valeria was right, she was weak. Just an idiot who couldn’t help but ruin everything good she had in her life. What an emotional wreck.

After putting on a pad, she changed clothes and sat under the covers, sobbing into her pillow.

Before she knew it, night fell and she realized she’d been moping around all day, only worsening her mood. A loud knock at the door made her flinch, snapping her attention in that direction.

As she made her way to the door, a small part of her hoped it was just a door to door salesman there to sell her on the “world’s best vacuum technology,” or even maybe just Mormons. But the majority of her yearned for it to be Valeria.

She had no clue what to do and no words prepared for when she opened the door and it revealed Valeria, standing on the porch sporting a down trodden look whilst holding a bouquet of flowers.

Valeria’s head shot up, half shocked that (Y/N) had actually opened the door. It was clear that (Y/N) had been crying for a while with her puffy red eyes and her sniffle, and Valeria felt so incredibly guilty. For what felt like the first time in her life, Valeria was at a loss for words.

“What are you doing here?” (Y/N) asked awkwardly.

Valeria cleared her throat, attempting to push aside all self-degrading thoughts and put together an explanation, “Well you weren’t answering your phone and I, uhm, I really wanted to say that I’m sorry for earlier. I said some awful things to you that I didn’t mean and it was wrong of me.”

(Y/N) quickly shook her head, fully believing that she and she alone was to blame for the argument.

“No, I shouldn’t have blown up on you like that.”

Valeria’s eyes saddened, “don’t do that, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) stared, confused, “do what?”

“Don’t back down. You never let yourself believe that you are right, even when you are.”

“But I wasn’t, Valeria, I’m on my period and I’m being a bitch.”

Valeria frowned as the words left (Y/N)’s mouth, “Don’t call yourself that. Sweetheart, just because you’re a little hormonal right now doesn’t mean your feelings were any less valid. I was being overbearing.”

“You just wanted to keep me safe,” (Y/N) whispered.

Valeria shook her head, “And I will get you enrolled in some self defense classes as soon as possible, but smothering you wasn’t the right way to make sure you were safe. I’m so sorry.”

(Y/N) pulled the door open wider, a silent invitation inside. One which Valeria gratefully accepted.

(Y/N) nodded, looking up at Valeria with sad, yearning eyes, “Can we uh, talk about this more tomorrow maybe? I’m starting to cramp, and I’m tired, and I really just want to snuggle with you right now.”

Valeria smiled warmly, so very happy that things weren’t over, “Of course, my love. I’d be happy to.”

(Y/N)’s heart warmed. She took the bouquet from Valeria’s hand and nodded towards the bedroom, “I’m going to go find a vase for these, I still have your clothes in my closet so you can go ahead and change into something more comfy while I do that.”

Valeria nodded and went off to change while (Y/N) filled a pretty glass vase with water and placed the flowers as a centerpiece on her table. She smelled one, admiring Valeria’s choice in flowers.

“Are you ready to come cuddle?” Valeria asked from behind (Y/N), causing her to jump. She quickly nodded and followed Valeria to bed.

Once settled, Valeria wrapped her arms around her girlfriend, rubbing patterns into her skin.

“Where are you hurting?” Valeria questioned.

“Huh?”

Valeria rubbing lightly at the skin on (Y/N)’s hip, “You said you were starting to cramp, is it your back? Breasts, tummy, hips?”

“Oh,” (Y/N) muttered, “tummy.”

Valeria’s fingertips drifted to (Y/N)’s stomach, slowly rubbing and kneading at the skin. (Y/N) sighed in relief.

Valeria desperately wanted to apologize again but she knew not to bring it up. Not when (Y/N) asked her to wait, and certainly not when (Y/N) was finally relaxing into her touch. Instead, she made certain that (Y/N) knew how much she cared by whispering sweet nothings into her ear and rubbing her stomach all throughout the night until the both of them inevitably fell asleep.

They would have plenty to discuss in the morning but for now, they could enjoy being with each other and knowing that neither of them wanted to break up.

#valeria garza x reader #valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria x reader #valeria x fem!reader #call of duty fanfic #valeria garza #valeria cod #valeria garza cod #call of duty valeria #call of duty x reader

666 notes · View notes

callsign-novara · 3 months

Note

Hi!!

I love the stalker Valeria story so far and would def like to see a part 2!!!!

STALKER!VALERIA x READER PT.2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Content warnings: violence, Swearing, paranoia, stalking, dark romance, wlw, obsessive behavior, stalker territory, breif mention on Offing one self, terror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cigarette smoke wafts through the air, the smoke dancing away in the wind. Alcohol on the tounge of the hundreds around, music blaring in the back. Bodies move on the roof of the building, celebrating yet another victory, But she isn't happy, no.

Instead, her mind is filled with frustration, anger, and desperation. Her men are smiling, having fun, celebrating their rightful victory but still..her hearts heavy with hatred. She stands, brushing off her black shirt with her hands, she turns to a gaurd and tells him that she'll be back. She walks through the halls of the well kept building until she's outside roaming the streets of Las Almas, the closer she gets the less anger fuels the flame within her.

Dogs scurry past the woman, tails tremble between their legs. Her steps are confident, eyes calculating. She looks like sweet sweet death, a gorgeous thing but deadly and violent.

Her breaths become heavier when her eyes lock onto her target walking through the slight rain. Her hands are sweaty with excitement as her Prey was about to walk into see the little surprise she left. She's watched you for a long time. Months on end watching your every move, she knows when you leave for work, when you have classes, what classes, when you fall asleep, shower..she knows everything.

She loves how you've become frightened of the night, scared to turn corners waiting for her to pop out of the shadows. But she won't do that, no, she's not stupid. She'll carefully wait, leaving you small little gifts here and there letting you know she's always watching.

She'll make you fear going to sleep without checking your locks a thousand times a night, She'll make you have to check over your shoulder every minute, she'll have you go crazy and then she'll pounce.

She watches from a dark alley way as you make your way up to you apartment. A cozy little place, but it's small.

She could give you so much more. So much better.

She watches you with a wide grin, watching as you freeze when you see her little gift left on you pillow case. She watches the panic, the horror and terror rush through you and she ears it up like candy.

She watches as you check your locks, and close your blinds. She can still see you the gaps of the blinds prominent despite you closing them. The glint of a knife catches her gaze. Pretty and smart, huh? Clever little mouse.

She waits, lurks in the shows outside your apartment for hours on end, just waiting. Soon, she makes her move,stalking up the stairs of the apartment building until she gets yo your door. A couple Bobby pins and a little jiggle and she's in.

Not very safe, no. But nothing can keep her away from you. She glides through the shadows until she's in your room, her footsteps are silent, she's careful not to wake you.

She watches.

Counting the rise and fall of your breaths, you look like a sleeping goddess tangled up in the sheets, and the sight makes her hungry. Hungry for you. Hungry for more.

A smirk crosses her red stained lips, you're just a little mouse running through her maze of fear and Deception. She owns everything in Las Almas Anyway, why shouldn't she own you? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you all so so s much for the support on the first part of this, I wasn't expecting much but it seems alot of you like it. And thanks to the anon above, my first ask!! I appreciate it greatly and i hope this part lives up to your guy's standards, a little POV from Vals view.

This story is going to be dark, and I highly suggest you read all the cw before reading. This story will switch povs throughout it and it might get confusing, so I'll always put who's pov it is in the authors note!

Thank you so much again for the support, and the next part should be coming up soon. 💋

~Nova

#cod #cod x reader #lesbian #valeria garza x reader #call of duty x reader #sapphic #wlw #valeria cod #cod mw2 #valeria garza #dark romanticism #stalker #stalking fantasy #obsessive love #obsessive yandere #actually obsessive #obsession #obsessive thoughts

175 notes · View notes

lxvvie · 7 months

Note

Heyyyy, I'd just had this cool idea, where reader pranks the COD members by getting all glam and dressed up and ask them if they forgot date night and reader pretends to upset with them for forgetting.

*clears throat dramatically.*

Capt. John Price - Clears his throat and talks you down as only Price can and promises he'll make it up to you. Meanwhile, he's trying to figure out the last time y'all even made plans for a date night.

Gaz - Pretends not to know what you're talking about; may or may not be shitting bricks internally. Hits you with the "Er... sorry?"

Alex Keller - Is actually shitting bricks internally. Transforms into Smooth Operator Keller™ to mitigate the damage. "Lookin' good, boss."

Soap - Panics in Golden Retriever. Promises to make it up to you. Is also turned on because you look fuckin' amazing. Wanna have make-up sex or something?

Ghost - Calls your bluff; oh, the bastard would've remembered an upcoming date night. He thinks. You look amazing, though. Real amazing from the way he's eyeing you up and down. Yeah, like hell he's gonna let someone else lay eyes on you. You're all fuckin' his.

Alejandro - The one who reminds you that date night is actually tomorrow night.

Rudy - Jokes on you because tonight was actually supposed to be date night and it seems like you both forgot. Whoops.

König - König.exe short circuits and he. is. DEVASTATED. You're actually the one who has to reassure him that it was only a prank. Oh. Good. He actually does take you out afterward, though.

Horangi - An awkward silence persists before he tells you to sit on his face lmao.

Graves - Is nonplussed by your being upset but not by your obvious good looks. "Wanna go out then, darlin'? Show 'em what they're missing when they see you all dolled up for me?"

Valeria - Calls your bluff and then calls YOU out for missing date nights as well. Oh, shit—

Roach - Wait, what date night?

Keegan - Uh... makes up some bullshit excuse to make himself scarce until you calm down.

2K notes · View notes

shadowlali · 2 months

Text

gold chains in the dark

COD AU - Alejandro Vargas x burglar!fem!reader

[18+] wc: ~2.6k summary: Your heist is interrupted by a Vaquero. masterlist

warnings: NSFW, not canon, some proofreading, no use of Y/N nor details on reader’s appearance, violence/murder, reader getting aroused while stealing, reader and Alejandro know each other, thigh humping, fingering, somewhat public sex, unprotected sex, creampie

a/n: *Takes place during the 11th mission titled “El Sin Nombre” in COD MW II, where Alejandro is wearing a mask and poses as one of El Sin Nombre’s men throughout the mission. He enters Diego Salgado’s mansion, who is one of Valeria’s lugartenientes [lieutenants]. According to the COD fandom wiki page, there is a safe you can open while in Diego’s home.

For @glitterypirateduck writing challenge “Amor a Alejandro!” I used prompt 29. You should be more careful. Inspired by @ghostofthemost141 who gave me the idea to write a fic about Alejandro in a mask. Title is inspired by the song "Chulo pt.2" and also @warningofeve who a while back said this song is perfect for Alejandro🤍

“Invitation?”

You pretend to look through your small clutch, knowing you have nothing in there except lipgloss and gum. “It looks like I don’t have it,” you whine, lifting your voice an octave, “oh no! I’ve spent all this time getting ready and I forgot the invitation.”

You do a small twirl in front of the security guard, watching as his eyes move appreciatively down your body.

“Well,” he says, getting closer to place a hand on your waist, “maybe there’s something I could do–”

He doesn’t notice the small knife in your palm, doesn’t register the moment it slashes through the air and pierces his neck. He gurgles, reaching for the gun strapped to his chest, but by then it's too late. Life slowly drains from his eyes as you wipe your knife clean on his clothes and drag his body to hide right by the bushes. You scan the area, making sure the coast is clear before opening the gate and slipping inside.

Another security guard waits by the door, but motions you in after he pats you down for any hidden weapons. The knife, now inside your purse, hides behind a secret pouch. A waiter by the door hands you a simple black masquerade mask that matches the ones worn by other women at the party. The men, including the security guards, wear full balaclavas.

You walk around, noticing how nervous the men seem. Their hands twitch at their sides, reaching for a weapon that isn’t there. And it’s obvious why they’re nervous. Las Almas is currently at war, and El Sin Nombre wants to know who they’re fighting against. But, you’re not here for that.

One of El Sin Nombre’s lugartenientes has a fascination with expensive jewels. The moment you found out the meeting would be held at his mansion, you created a plan to come in and take them. You were able to find the architect who built this house and were able to steal the plans from his office.

After tailing one of his maids and making small talk with her at a grocery store, you innocently asked if she had any tips on how to clean jewelry. She was so nice, giving you tips on how she cleans her boss’ prized possessions. She talked and talked, even telling you where he stores them.

The ones he wears everyday are kept in his dresser while the ones he treasures the most are kept in a safe. The moment she gave you that information, she immediately regretted it, looking sheepish and walking away, realizing she had given unnecessary information to a stranger. There’s a few obvious places you need to check, like the bedroom and office, to see where his safe is.

You grab a flute of champagne and walk around the lower floor, taking in the guests and discreetly checking for ways to get to the top floors. Most of the stairs are blocked off by security guards. Even the outside courtyard is being monitored. You continue to walk around the courtyard and quickly down the rest of the champagne once you notice an opportunity.

By a miracle, two guards seem to be preoccupied with a guest. They begin pushing him around as he demands to speak to El Sin Nombre and you take the opportunity to slip past them and through the courtyard doors. It leads to a smaller courtyard, complete with a fountain and small garden. There’s a balcony that overlooks, and right underneath is a cement block that you use to hoist yourself up and inside.

You manage to enter through the open balcony doors into what looks like an upstairs bar. It’s dark, only the light from the hallway providing some illumination for the room. You slide against the walls and listen for any footsteps. The click of your heels are softened by the carpet of the room, but the rest of the house has tile.

A guard walks through the hallway, shining a flashlight into the open rooms. You press yourself to the wall, feeling your heart race. The thrill of the heists always exhilarates you. Heat shoots directly to your core as you quietly make your way through the second floor. Especially now, with how anxious everyone is and how much security they have, you welcome the challenge.

Diego can be seen through the window of a small room, praying at an ofrenda. A guard stands by the doors until the two of them leave to the elevator. Once the woosh of the elevator resonates through the quiet hallway, you make your way into the room.

How cliche, you think, moving a medium-sized picture frame to reveal the safe hidden behind it. You work quickly, turning the knob around and around, until at last, you hear a soft click. Rubies, emeralds, diamonds, gold chains–millions of dollars worth of jewels all in this little safe.

The smile on your face is wide as you quickly take out a folded-up, velvet pouch from your clutch to stuff as much as you can inside. If you exit the same way you came in, you should be able to escape before anyone catches you. With the jewelry secured, you exit the room and start walking back to the bar.

Your panties are wet and the tips of your breasts are hard as they rub against your dress. With how perfect this score is going, you’ll be able to keep some of the pieces and sell the others, making a small fortune for yourself. Thank God I remembered to charge my toy–

Just as you turn the corner into the bar, a hand shoots out and wraps around your mouth, silencing you. It happens way too fast that you’re not able to strike or even reach for the knife in your purse.

“Shhh, relájate.” [relax]

You know that voice, crave that voice. Of course Alejandro is here, you think. He slides his hand away from your mouth and pushes you until your back is pressed to the wall. His face is covered in a balaclava, but you immediately recognize his signature cologne. A jolt of excitement goes up your spine as he removes the mask from your face.

“Are you here to stop me?” you ask Alejandro, placing a hand on his chest.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop stealing, nena?”

You roll your eyes playfully, tugging on his tie. “Why would I listen to you? And why are you dressed like that?”

Alejandro looks down at his suit, which is the same as the security guards. “I’m supposed to be undercover. But imagine my surprise when I see you, slipping past the guards and climbing up a balcony. Tell me,” he says, grabbing the velvet bag from your hands, “is this necessary?”

“A girl’s gotta eat.”

He tsks, bringing his body closer to yours and pressing his erection against your lower belly. “How can I work, how can I stay focused when you’re running around in this little dress?”

You whimper, feeling his thigh push between your legs and press right on your dripping pussy. “You like my dress?”

The bags drop to the floor with a soft thud as Alejandro grips your waist, rocking you into his thigh. You bring your hands up and pull the mask just above the tip of his nose so you can mold your mouth to his. You moan into the kiss, tasting whiskey on his tongue.

His hand drags your dress up and over your hips, exposing the scrap of lace panties. You tug on his tie until it loosens and unbutton the first few buttons on his dress shirt. Even in the almost darkness, you can see the glitter of a familiar gold chain around his neck.

You touch it with light fingertips and rock faster on the hard muscle of his thigh. “You still wear the chain I gave you, Alejandro?”

He ignores your question and presses open mouthed kisses to your neck. “You should be more careful. I was able to catch you quickly.”

“Yeah, but–oh, oh–” you stammer, feeling Alejandro’s fingers slip through your panties, “you always catch me. Don’t you, baby?”

I always catch you, Alejandro murmurs, pressing his lips to yours again. He curves two thick fingers inside of you, gently thrusting them, opening you up. You stifle a moan and bring a hand up to cover your mouth. The last thing you want is for your fun to get rudely interrupted by one of El Sin Nombre’s men.

You bounce on his fingers as he slides deeper with the help of your dripping arousal. That’s it, mami, he whispers, plunging them faster, my pretty little thief. Maybe it’s because you’ve been slick with excitement since the moment you got here, or maybe it’s because Alejandro is so good with his fingers, that you cum right into the palm of his large hand. The orgasm hits you with such intensity that you shake in his hold, a few whimpers escaping your mouth.

“Shh, hermosa,” he coos, “you don’t want them to find us right?”

You let out another whimper and clench around his fingers in the last moments of your orgasm. You’re not quite sure what drew you to this life. The money? The jewels? Every single aspect of it excites you, especially the danger that comes with this line of work. Alejandro removes his fingers slowly and with a snap, he rips off your panties.

“Hey–”

“You can afford to buy new ones,” he interrupts. He takes a step back to wipe his fingers on your now ripped panties then stuffs them in his pocket. “I’m going to help you escape but you need to promise me–”

“Wait, wait,” you whisper, reaching for him, “what about you? Come on, Alejandro. Live a little.”

He lets you bring him in closer, shaking his head but not stopping you from undoing his belt buckle. You grab his cock and give it a few pumps, swiping your thumb over the precum that drips from his tip. Alejandro wraps your leg around his waist and moves your hand to position himself at your slick entrance.

“Quédate callada,” he orders. [Keep quiet]

You nod quickly, wanting him inside of you. Just as he thrusts in, you hear the ding of the elevator. Someone is on the second floor. You deflate, knowing that Alejandro will stop and lead you out through the balcony doors, since now the two of you are about to be interrupted. He’s not the type to take these kinds of risks–but, he surprises you. Alejandro keeps going, rocking a little faster into you.

Voices approach slowly from the hallway. You pray they don’t enter the bar, not when Alejandro keeps bumping into that perfect spongy spot inside of you. His fingers make delicious indents on your thigh from how hard he grabs you. You don’t trust yourself to not make noise so you press your mouth to his, allowing him to swallow your moans.

“Looks like the door to the ofrenda is open,” one of the guards says, “let's check it out.”

“Naughty girl,” Alejandro whispers, “did you not clean up your mess?”

You want to answer, want to tell Alejandro that of course you didn’t leave any prints behind and of course you put everything back where it was found. You just forgot to close the door in your excitement. But you don’t say anything, more focused on how deep Alejandro gets with each stroke.

“Everything looks good, let's keep going,” the other guard says.

Alejandro fucks you a little harder into the wall, moving a hand to swipe at your clit. You hear the footsteps approaching and wonder, even in your aroused hazed, what changed in Alejandro. In the few times he’s caught you, he’ll bring you to his Jeep or back to his home if you let him. But never has he been so animalistic in his need to fuck you in one of the places you’re stealing from.

“You like this–don’t you?” Alejandro whispers, “You like h–how crazy I get for you?”

Your nails dig into his large biceps for support and you squeeze your pussy tighter around him. He snakes his hand under your knee, pushing up to spread you further. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the flashlights approaching.

You feel the familiar licks of heat at the base of your spine. You’re so, so, so close to cumming again. Each slide of his thick cock stretches you to your limit, causing your pussy to flutter and gush around him. You press your nose to his neck and inhale. He smells yummy like Baccarat Rouge 540 and salty sweat. The guards pause at the entryway of the bar, shining their flashlights.

“Did you hear that?” one of them asks.

Alejandro slows his thrusts, gathering more of your slick on his thumb to rub over your swollen bud. He can’t be fucking serious, you think to yourself, sinking your teeth hard in his bottom lip.

“The balcony is open, must be noise from outside.”

You rock back and forth on his cock, uncaring that the guard takes a step inside. His eyes pass over the room, barely missing the two of you.

“Sí, tienes razón. Let’s go to the third floor.” [you’re right]

The moment Alejandro hears them ascend the stairs, he slides out and plunges back in. He sets a jackhammer pace, reminding you to keep quiet, nena, even though it feels like he’s splitting you in two. One more swipe of his thumb and you’re twitching in his arms, falling into the abyss as an orgasm washes over you.

It’s warm and mind-numbing, thrilling, and so incredibly risky. Alejandro is barely able to stifle his groan as his thrusts become clumsy and he spills inside of you. You constrict and squeeze tightly around his length, milking every last drop from his cock.

He’s so strong, holding the both of you up while you catch your breath. Alejandro slowly pulls out, whimpering slightly from the sensitivity. He has you stay pressed on the wall while he grabs napkins to clean you up. Once he makes sure you’re okay, he fixes his clothes and grabs your purse and the velvet bag from the floor.

“¿Estás bien?” he asks, wiping the sweat away from your collarbones. “Think you can jump down from the balcony? Or do you want to try the elevator?” [Are you okay?]

“N–no, I can do it.”

You stumble slightly but right yourself, gripping your possessions tightly. You climb down from the balcony on unsteady feet, feeling the breeze on your now exposed bottom. The small courtyard is still empty, luckily, and you see a side door that leads to the exit from the house.

Alejandro drops down beside you, looking normal and as if he didn’t just rearrange your insides not even five minutes ago. “Be careful, okay? Text me when you get home. No puedo irme–” [I can’t leave–]

You reach up a hand to caress his covered face. “I know, you have work to do. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

After one more kiss on his cheek, you turn and jog towards the side door and open it. You take a look around and find no one at the front of the house. You look back, lifting your hand to wave at Alejandro, and leave. It takes a little longer to find your car, as your thighs feel sore and the bag you’re carrying is heavy.

You knew your score would go well, you just didn’t think it would go this well. You keep your promise to Alejandro. The moment you get safely home you strip out of your dress and put on one of the ruby necklaces. You snap a photo of yourself, the necklace and your peaked nipples perfectly in frame. It only takes thirty seconds for Alejandro to respond.

You: [Image sent]

home :)

11:56 P.M.

Alejandro: Hermosa. My pretty little thief. Stay out of trouble, okay?

11:56 P.M.

Absolutely no promises.

Title inspired by the song "Chulo pt.2" by Bad Gyal, Tokischa, and Young Miko.

#Amor a Alejandro #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x female reader #alejandro vargas smut #cod x reader #cod mw2 x female reader #alejandro vargas #cod mw2 smut #shadowlali

156 notes · View notes

miniwheat77 · 1 year

Text

Sweet. (Captain Price x Reader)

!NSFW, Smut, Fingering, Roofies, Oral Sex (fem recieving), !MINORS DNI! Edited!

Summary: Price is a little harsh on Y/N until a mission goes a little sideways and he realizes just how he feels about her.

When you were recommended for 141, nobody really seen why.

Captain Price didn't think you were all that special, none of the others did either. But nonetheless, he decided to give you a chance. He was a little hard on you for awhile, pushing you during training, being a little rough when it came to talking to you, and his punishments were even worse. He was very difficult and you didn’t understand why he seemed so passive to everyone except for you.

You hated being apart of 141, it was the worst thing Laswell had ever recommended. You thought maybe Captain Price hated you because you were young. He seemed to have the mentality that the military wasn't meant for young adults. Which, truth be told. It probably wasn't. But it was the only means of escape you had from your family.

"This mission is different." Captain Price makes his way inside the conference room. Stacks of papers in his hands. "And I think this is the perfect time, we see what Y/N's got." he smirks. This clearly wasn't an important mission. Otherwise he wouldn't have you on it. Because for some reason, he hated you. "This is capture or kill, preferably capture. Y/N will lead the way." He smiles.

You nod your head looking over the papers. All of the information you needed was on these papers right in front of you. You thought for a brief second. "Whenever you're ready, go ahead and draw out a plan on the board." He smirks. "Alright. Give me a minute." you stand up, picking up the dry erase marker, walking toward the white board. He watches you draw out a plan. In about 10 minutes, the board was completely covered. "Alright." you cap your marker, spinning around. "Most likely our target will be in the basement of this building. It's dead center and has guards around the perimeter, which tells me all I need to know. I can tell by looking at it there's most likely some sort of tunnel system to keep him safe. The diagram of buildings is just suspicious for me. I'm gonna guess there's probably exits at each of the outer buildings." you point to them. There were 3. "If Ghost, Soap, and Gaz get inside of these 3 buildings, they can guard the tunnel exits and close in on him, Captain and I will hit this building from above." you cross your arms. "Back up plan?" He asks. you throw the marker on the table. "Hopefully you have good aim. It won't fail." you say, walking away.

The following day when the plan went into effect, you and Captain Price were up in the helicopter. Price wouldn't let anything happen to you, but something inside of him wanted this plan to fail so he could hold it over your head. The other 3 were making their way into the buildings, silently killing each of the guards.

"I'll be damned." They hear Soap call over the radio. "She was right. There's a fucking tunnel entrance." Ghost calls back. "Here too, headed toward the center." They each meet in the middle, right beneath the main building. Gaz agreeing and making his way underground as well.

You and Captain Price drop from the helicopter, busting through windows to elimate anyone you seen. "Eyes! He's got on a black suit." You call over the radio.

You see him disappear into a back room, chasing after him. He jumps down into the tunnel, and when he thinks he's free, he's got 3 fully automatic weapons pointed at him. "Going somewhere, sweetheart?" Soap smirks. Each of them blocking the way. Gunfire around you comes to an end, Captain Price walking into the room behind you. "He's got ties to the Cartel, someone has already taken over for Valeria." You jump down, pulling his hand behind his back and zip tying them together. "I'll get in contact with Alejandro and Rudolfo." Soap walks away. "How do you know Y/N?" Gaz asks. "There's Cartel and memorabilia all over this place. It screams cartel."

—

A sigh falls from your lips. "You know. I'm a little annoyed that I got roped into this. I had intentions of someone else doing it." Captain Price chuckles. Sitting next to you in the limousine. "Well, sweetheart. You happen to be the only female around. Besides, you never said how you'll get him to tell you anything or how you'll capture him." He smirks. "I have a plan. Just trust me." He nods his head. He's wearing a suit and you have on the tightest black dress known to man. Tall black heels and your hair and makeup is done to the best of your ability. Something Captain Price hadn't ever seen before. "Follow my lead." You mutter. He follows you up through the front doors of the penthouse, very similar to the one you'd captured Valeria in. It's full of people dressed to perfection. There's a huge dance floor surrounded by tables. The both of you make your way inside, sitting at a table.

For the next hour, it's the both of you trying to blend into this party, even going as far to dance with one another on the dance floor. "I have eyes." You whisper to John on the dance floor. He spins you around, your back pressed up against him, his mouth right next to your ear. "I see him too, you ready for this ah?" he smirks. "Oh yeah." His hips brush up against yours and he closes his eyes for a second.

It doesn't take much for you to get your targets attention. Sitting a few stools down from him at the bar. "Whatever you do, do not let me be in a room alone with him for too long. No more than 5 minutes if you have no eyes." you mumble into the radio. "Copy." John says, he's a little confused by how crucial you've made it sound. The man sits down in the stool next to you and begins talking to you. It doesn't take long until he's wanting to get into a room upstairs with you. You sweet talk him the entire time. You get into the elevator with him, nervous the entire time. "Eyes." Ghost says into the radio, a sense of relief going over John. He had seen you enter the elevator.

Once he has you alone upstairs. He puts a hand on your side. "I know who you are. American Military ah?" He whispers, and the hair on your body stands up. "Yes." He wraps a hand around your throat and Ghost lines up a shot. "I came here to warn you. They planned to attack tonight. I'm on your side, I want you join you." You plead with him. John narrows his eyes, he's still sitting at a bar on the first floor. The radio is oddly silent. "Look now!" you plead, just as soon as Soap makes his way up the stairs, the man draws his weapon. Soap lets out a yell as the man shoots at him. "Falling back Captain!" Your radio goes off. The man narrows his eyes at you. "Why should I trust you?" he asks. "She knew he was going to shoot and didn't tell me. We need to leave, regroup, and find a new plan." Soap says into the radio. "The hell?" John shakes his head. "I'll tell you anything you wanna hear." you breathe out. He nods his head. He grasps your wrist, dragging you along. "Is she working for him?" Soap asks. "Don't know. Whatever you do Ghost, do not lose sight of her." John says into the radio, attempting to make his way up the elevator but it was taking forever. "Yes sir."

"That cheeky little minx!" Ghost exclaims into the radio. "What? What's going on?"

"She's just roofied him!" He laughs. "What? How?" Soap asks. "She must've convinced him it was acid. Put it on her tongue and than swapped it to him." He laughs. "Gross, like... she kissed him?" Ghost rolls his eyes as soap says it. "Shit, he's pulling her into a room. Get to her now, I have no eyes." Ghost says frantically.

Price hears it and gives up on the elevator, trying to make his way up the stairs.

He pushes passed everyone, reaching the second floor where you were. He opens the front door, quickly kicking the second open. The man is on top of you, and he's delirious but he's pulling your dress up. You're trying to fight him off, but he's got your hands pinned with his knees. John pulls him off of you, and he passes out as soon as he hits the floor.

"Y/N?" He asks. "Captain." You hug him quickly. "What happened darling? Are you hurt?" He pulls away, looking you up and down. "He.. He tried to.." John shakes his head. "Did he?" he asks. You shake your head. "It's alright. You did amazing Y/N." He breathes. Pulling you into his side. Soap pushes into the door, seeing the room is a little messy and the man is on the floor. "Why were you so adamant on 5 minutes?" Soap asks.

"She's a virgin." Ghost says, he's on the windowsill. He'd used a tool to get across to the building. "What?" He laughs. "You wouldn't notice at first glance. But around him she was a little awkward. Maybe a bad idea to throw her out there as bait." Ghost starts to tie up the man. "I had no idea." John says. You look at the ground, cheeks lighting up. "I... Yeah." John nods his head. "Come on, lets get him back to HQ."

—

"Hey." John says, tapping on your door that was already open just a crack. "Hey." You say back, turning toward the mirror. You were pulling all of the bobby pins from your hair. He closes your door behind himself. He pulls his hat off, sitting down next to you on the edge of your cot. "I owe you an apology." He says, grasping your hand in his to get your attention. You turn to look at him, your eyes were stunning to him, complimented perfectly by the eyeshadow you had put on. "I should not have sent you in there like that. I know how bad people like him could be to women and I didn't think about your well being. For that, I'm very sorry." You smile, looking down. "I should have been up front. I should have told you I was uncomfortable. I let him intimidate me in there. I didn't like it at all." You look down at your free hand, the other pulling out the final bobby pin. You almost take Johns breath away when your hair falls out around your face, something he hadn't ever seen before. "I just.. you're kinda hard on me. I wanted to prove to you that I could handle it, but having him stare me down like he did. Touch me like that. Just made my skin crawl."

He places his hand on your bare thigh. "I know love. I am a little rough on you, but I have to be. I want you to understand that if you let your guard down even just a little, you'll die. I care about you and I don't wanna see you hurt. Ever. If something happened to you, I'd never forgive myself." you nod your head. "You really proved yourself today, you did great. And by the way, you're a great dancer." He smiles. "You had me fooled, ya did. I would've never guessed you were a virgin." Your cheeks heat up.

"How the hell did you convince him to take the roofie ah?" you smile, looking down. "I'm very sneaky and manipulative, Captain. It was easy." he laughs. "Try it on me." he turns. "Okay." You look forward, taking a deep breath. "You know, this dress is a little tight." You spin around, pretending to be uncomfortable, moving closer to him. Staring into his eyes, you lean into him, pressing your lips to his.

He's got a tight grip on the blanket, and you keep his interest for quite some time. When you finally pull away, his eyes are closed and when he opens them again, you look at him, a smile on your face. "Okay. I don't see how that's manipulative in any way." You tilt your head, "Maybe not manipulative but sneaky.” You smirk. "Check your pockets."

He narrows his eyes, feeling around his pockets, but they're all empty. You bring your hand from behind your back, holding a cigar and a dog tag in your hand. His eyes widen, a grin covering his lips. "You are a cheeky little thing aren't you?" He laughs. "That kiss even felt real." He laughs. Your smile falters a little bit. His eyes widening. "Oh, because it was, wasn't it?" He laughs. You blush and turn away from him. He smiles, grasping your chin and pulling your face to look at him. "Look at me, lass."

He presses his lips to yours again and you smile into his lips when you feel him reaching for his cigar. You push his hand away, sliding it into his pocket, not taking your lips away from his for even a second. He starts to lean back and he pulls you with him, lifting your hips up so you could straddle him as he lays back on your bed. Your lips stay on his and he needs to stop you, but he can't. "Y/N, you gotta stop me sweetheart. I can't stop myself." He pants. "I.. I don't want to stop you." He pushes you back slightly, flipping you over and he stares into your eyes. They glimmer in the light from your small lamp and he needs to stop. Before he goes too far and gets you both into trouble. In a way, he feels like he's taking advantage of you. But he can't stop himself. "Lay on your back." He mumbles. Once you do, he pushes himself between your legs. He leans down, kissing you again. This time with a little more desperation than the last. He pulls away, planting a kiss right onto your chin, than again on your neck. He trails them down, sucking love bites into your chest where your breasts were exposed to him. "Do you want me to stop?" He pulls away for a second, hands gripping the top of your dress. You shake your head.

He pulls the top down, revealing your breasts to him. You suck in a sharp breath. How someone could go from hating you to touching you like this so quickly was beyond you.

He plants a kiss to your nipple, maintaining eye contact as he does so, parting his lips just slightly to run his tongue along it. Sucking gently. A whimper falls from your lips, and you start to squirm underneath him. His facial hair scratches your skin perfectly, creating a burn that feels so good, you couldn't quite describe it.

He moves to the other side, doing it once again to your other nipple until you're starting to whimper a little too loud. You were waiting in anticipation, wanting nothing more than to feel that burn between your legs from his facial hair. The thought alone making arousal pool between your legs. He kisses down your stomach, tongue running along your skin as he moves, lower and lower. He pushes your dress up and over your hips, fingers wrapping around your panties and pulling them off. Revealing you to him completely. He looks up at you again, eyes meeting yours. As he lowers himself into you, he keeps eye contact. Licking the first stripe up your slit, swirling his tongue around your clit, having to hold back a grin when your eyes screw shut. Watching you fall apart beneath him. He's gentle, flicking his tongue against you, gripping your hands tight in his. He draws one of them back, gathering up the wetness from you and his saliva, pulling away for just a second to rub his finger up against your opening, gathering the wetness on his finger.

He lines it up with your entrance, and you take a deep breath as he slides it in. You feel full immediately. He flicks his tongue slow and steady over your clit, pumping his finger until he could get you wet enough for 2. Once he slides the second finger in, you practically melt beneath him. You cover your mouth with both of your hands, trying so hard to stay quiet. He wants nothing more than to hear you call out for him. Moan his name. He’d put money on it that ‘John’ would roll perfectly off that sweet tongue of yours. He starts to flick his tongue a little faster, sucking lightly on your clit when his tongue would get tired and you couldn’t help but buck your hips into him. He tries to hold you steady with his one hand, but you’re struggling. Moaning and whimpering but it’s muffled by your hand. Squirming and bucking your hips into him. At this point, he wonders if you’ve ever even been touched at all.

“John… I- I’m gonna cum.” You whimper. It’s so low it’s almost inaudible. He almost misses it. But he doesn’t, he pumps his fingers into you, scissoring them and curling them up into you, watching the way your body reacts so perfect to him, flicking his tongue against your clit. It’s so much for you, and finally. Your hips buck into him, a whimper escapes you as you reach your climax, John still flicking his tongue and pumping his fingers to ride out your high until you close your thighs around his hand, whimpering as you grasp his hand to keep him still. He smiles up at you, lips and beard glossy with your juices. Your face is flushed, you’ve got love bites all over you Mr skin, artwork. Your hair is a little messy now. He takes a deep breath, sitting up as he palms himself through his jeans.

“You taste fuckin sweet darling.”

Your cheeks burn.

It was intense, but you can’t help but want more.

“We’ll get you used to me. We’ll move slow, yeah?” He nibbles at his lips. You nod your head at him.

“Good girl.”

#modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #call of duty mw2 #price mw2 #ghost mw2 #alejandro mw2 #mw2 fanfic #captain price #captain john price #soap cod #johnny soap mactavish #soap #soap mactavish #soap mw2

965 notes · View notes

sweetiecutie · 9 months

Note

Am I going to copy the other anon that asked for Ghost smut? Yes I am. Can we have some Valeria smut, pretty please. For the event! Maybe AU where Valeria is a MMA fighter, a champion. What do you think?

Pairing: Valeria Garza x fem! Reader

Warnings: mdni, smut, cheating but it’s okay ig, oral and fingering, mention of fighting and violence

A/n: for those like me who don’t know what MMA is: MMA (mixed martial arts) - an extreme sport in which two people fight each other using the techniques of boxing, wrestling and martial arts

Valeria Garza who is a MMA champion. Started out at the age of 17, purely to blow off some steam and beat the shit out of someone. Easy money, right?

Valeria Garza who is so good at fighting, she quickly made it in a top league, not letting down her position.

Valeria Garza who happened to be acquainted with one of your brother’s friends, visiting that guy’s party. And by lucky coincident you were there as well.

Valeria who saw you - a pretty little thing, sitting all alone in the living room which was turned into a makeshift dance floor. It was a pity picture, to be frank - a gorgeous girl like yourself, all dolled up for the party, looking with sad puppy eyes at her supposedly boyfriend who was talking away with another one of “fraternity dudes”, you being all forgotten by her date.

Valeria Garza who slid next to you with a drink in her hand, a tight black tank top revealed her muscular arms and shoulders, her tits visible from the low cut. She started out safe, asking “Why such a pretty thing is all alone and not out dancing?” surely making you blush and smile softly.

Valeria who spent the rest of the evening chatting and flirting with you, making you forget about your shitbag of a boyfriend. She disliked him already just for leaving you alone at the party, but your tipsy state and attentive company of Valeria made you reveal some details of your relationships to her, complaining about your boyfriend taking you for granted and often neglecting his duties as your partner. Now, she hated the dude.

Valeria who took you over to her place, giving you the bestest head of your life on old couch in her living room. She made you cum six times with her tongue and fingers, turning you into a brainless little puddle, so pliant in her hands. “That’s how you treat a girl, isn’t that right, princess?” She prodded, lapping at your pussy with greatest pleasure.

Valeria who after these events decided to keep you as her little trophy girl. She insisted on you breaking up with that douchebag of a boyfriend and give a chance to relationships with her instead. She surely can treat you better.

Valeria Garza who has you coming to every single one of her fights, demanding a kiss on a lips before the round starts, claiming that you’re her luckiest charm. And it seems to be true, seeming how effortlessly she manages to get every singe win.

Valeria who never ever allows you to try out any sort of martial arts, even under her supervision. Fighting is her job, yours is to be happy and satisfied, because happy you means happy Valeria<3

808 notes · View notes

luci4theminorannoyance · 4 months

Note

Hello!!!

Because tomorrow is christmas could u write about valeria x fem!reader?

So basically reader is also working for the military and she has been gone for a year long mission but she came back for christmas to suprise valeria because valeria dosent know reader is coming for few weeks💗(u dont have to do this if u dont want to btw)

And merry christmas!❄️

a/n: merry Christmas and happy holidays! :D, I’d love to write this- I planned to write it all today earlier but I ended up blacking out from a really bad cold

Valeria:

-her cartel job was scary work, and work she never wanted you even to be mentioned in. So she kept you far away from it all in a little town in a house both you and her called home

-she usually visited more frequently, but over this past year she was so busy and always so close to trouble that she only called and wrote, making sure you knew how loved you were as her girlfriend even when apart for so long

-knew that you were sad not seeing her for so long so she secretly planned it so she would come home for Christmas Day! She knew you adored it and would adore to find her waiting for her to wake up

-snuck into the house in the very very late night, making sure you were sound asleep and then taking a shower and washing off all the grime and guilt of her work. Setting up her gifts for you under the tree, and waiting for you to wake up

-loves the sight of your face as you see her in front of you, her eyes lighting up and her strong arms picking you up and holding you tight in her arms

-utterly lavishes you in kisses, attention, and of course- gifts! Anything you could want. Perfume or makeup? Bought with gold in it. Art supplies or gear for your hobbies or work? Wrapped under the tree perfect. New clothes or new equipment for things you enjoy? Of course she got you the best

-she adores spoiling and surprising her girlfriend for Christmas Day <3

124 notes · View notes

halfmoth-halfman · 1 year

Text

v. she works hard for the money (so you better treat her right)

Pairing: Mob Boss!Price x F!Reader Word Count: 6.2k Warnings: alcohol, sexual harassment, groping, blood, violence Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. prev | next

You don’t know what to expect from shopping with Valeria.

In truth, the woman makes you nervous, but Kyle doesn’t seem to notice your hesitance. He leads you out to his shiny black car, one that reminds you of the vintage cars your father used to work on, holding the door open for you to slide in.

Kyle keeps your hungover state in mind, giving you control of the radio as he drives to your mystery destination. You find something upbeat, singing along softly as you watch the city pass by through the shade of your sunglasses.

It dawns on you how much of the city you haven’t seen. Most, if not all, of your time has been spent in two places: your motel room and the club. You didn’t mind when you had first arrived in the city; you had no intentions of staying as long as you have, so you had no desire to go sightseeing.

Now, though…

You never meant to stay this long, but the more time you spend at the club, you find yourself wanting to leave less and less. There was never a plan for where you would end up, only to get as far away as possible.

You may not be as far as you had initially planned, but you have to admit you feel safer than you have in years.

“You alright over there?” Kyle breaks you from your thoughts with a gentle nudge to your arm.

“Yeah?”

“You just got kind of quiet, is all.” You see the smirk grow on his face as he gives you a quick glance. “If you’re gonna be sick, I can pull over.”

“Don’t worry. Your upholstery is safe.” You roll your eyes while Kyle snickers as he parks in front of a clothing store reminiscent of the high-end boutiques you used to spend so much time in.

Kyle gets out of the car first, and you finish your coffee in the few seconds it takes for him to walk to your side of the car. He opens the car door for you and walks ahead to get the storefront door for you too. Kyle follows you in as you push your sunglasses up onto your head.

“We’re not open!” someone calls out from the back of the store as you walk in.

“It’s just us, Val!” Kyle yells back. The click of heels echoes through the store before Valeria appears, a broad smile on her face.

“This is a surprise,” Valeria smiles, arms crossed over her chest. She’s dressed impeccably, not a single hair out of place. She’d been far drunker than you, yet here she stands, looking as flawless as ever. You swallow down the small knot of jealousy, giving her a smile while Kyle wanders to a case of watches.

“Got time for a fitting?” he asks over his shoulder.

“I already have your measurements,” Valeria says, brows knitting together in confusion, “why do you need—”

“It’s not for me,” Kyle laughs, nodding toward you. Valeria turns to you in surprise, eyes roving over your figure as her smile grows into an excited grin.

Like the cat that ate the canary.

She circles you slowly, talking to herself in quiet Spanish, before she slides her perfectly manicured hands around your arm to pull you toward the back of the store.

“Have fun!” Kyle laughs behind you. You turn around to see him heading back out of the store.

“What? Where are you going?”

He spins on his heel, leaning back against the door to open it with a wide smile. With a wink, he waves his phone at you, leaving the store as Valeria leads you to a large dressing room immaculately decorated in black and gold.

“Stand here.” She pulls you up onto the round fitting-pedestal, leaving you in front of the wall of mirrors. She disappears from the room, but you can hear her heels as she walks around the store. You focus on your reflection while she’s gone, fixing your hair and adjusting your jacket sleeves to be a little more presentable. You doubt Valeria cares about your slight dishevelment; you’re sure she understands more than anything.

“Take off your jacket,” Valeria says as she returns, tailor’s tape in hand. You do as she says, folding your jacket before she takes it from you and sets it aside. She takes her measurements, working quickly and quietly. When she does talk, it’s soft and to herself.

You find yourself in an odd sort of peace, following Valeria’s instructions and letting her work without having to worry about small talk.

You reflect on the many other dressing rooms you’ve spent time in. You always found a sense of excitement in getting dressed up, in getting to choose your favorite colors and fabrics and turning them into something that would make you feel like a million bucks. It had been fun, filled with talking and laughter, but now that you think back on it, how many times have you actually enjoyed yourself? Was it really fun, or was it smiles and giggles to save face—a quick response to preserve your safety?

A dull thrum of pain dances across your left shoulder as Valeria slides her tape across the top of your back, the tips of her fingers skimming over the raised skin beneath your shirt. If she notices, she doesn’t comment.

“If you can, I’d prefer something with sleeves,” you say softly. She gives you a quick glance in the mirror, her sharp gaze sending a shock of anxiety through you. “They don’t have to be long or anything. I just…I would prefer—”

She finishes her measurements of your back, fingers purposely lingering over your left shoulder an extra second longer. You’re sure she feels how your body suddenly tenses, but she meets your eyes in your reflection and smiles—a gentler expression than you thought her capable of.

“Sleeves are no problem,” Valeria smiles, winding the measuring around her hand as she steps down from the platform. “Do you have a fabric preference?” You turn to her this time, allowing yourself to relax and feel a little thrill of excitement.

“What kind do you have?”

Kyle returns to the store three hours later with a sleek black box in hand. He expects to find you and Valeria in the back, possibly in one of the fitting rooms or going over fabrics. He expects to have to search for you.

He doesn’t expect to walk into music blaring over the shop speakers as you and Valeria sit on one of the plush sofas. The two of you laugh, surrounded by bags and boxes, as you sip from a tall glass of something pale green and bubbly. Valeria notices him first, smiling at him over her drink.

“Glad to see you two are getting on,” Kyle laughs, holding the box out to you.

“I get along with everyone,” Valeria smirks up at him while you giggle into your glass.

“Of course,” Kyle scoffs. You take the box from him, and he takes a seat on the sofa across from you and Valeria. You don’t waste time opening it, staring wide-eyed at the sleek, black phone inside.

“It already has everyone’s numbers, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You nod, unable to tear your eyes away from what will be the first cell phone you’ve owned in years.

“You seem surprised,” Kyle chuckles.

“I…Honestly, I was expecting a flip phone or something.”

Kyle laughs loudly as Valeria sets a hand to her chest, scoffing in disgust.

“My father would’ve killed me,” Kyle laughs.

You roll your eyes, setting the box aside and searching through your jacket for your wallet, “Just tell me how much I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Kyle says in slight surprise, “It’s a gift.”

“She won’t let me pay for the clothes—” You scoff, nodding to a very smug Valeria, “—the least you can do is let me pay for the phone.”

“Aw, my sweet avecita,” Valeria coos, giving you a teasing pout as she leans in closer, “Our little family doesn’t pay for things. Everything’s on the house, or the house burns down.” She leans back, lounging against the sofa with a smirk and a glint in her eyes that tells you she is dead serious. You glance at Kyle, expecting him to laugh it off, but he shrugs and nods at you.

You set your wallet down, tucking it back into your jacket pocket. “Nevermind, then.”

“Just say thank you,” Valeria says, setting her glass on the small side table beside the sofa.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Valeria winks.

“We’ll be taking our leave, then. Gotta get this one set up with Roach and Farah,” Kyle says, pushing himself to his feet and beginning to collect your bags. You finish your drink, gathering the remaining bags before Kyle can get to them. Valeria walks the two of you to the door, holding it open for you.

“I’ll have the rest of the pieces sent to your father,” she tells Kyle, who nods as he loads the backseat with bags.

“And I’ll see you later,” she says, turning to you with a wide smile. “You still owe me a game of pool.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you laugh, giving her a mock salute. She rolls her eyes, batting you on the arm. Kyle takes the rest of your bags, safely tucking them away in the car before opening the passenger door for you.

“Thanks for the help, Val,” Kyle says as you get into the car. Valeria leans against the door, watching Kyle slide into the driver’s seat and start the car. She gives a small wave of her fingers, disappearing back into her store as the car pulls onto the street.

“Alright,” Kyle speaks, looking at you with a small half-smile. “Ready to get to work?”

It takes some shifting, but you adjust your schedule enough to be able to rehearse with Farah and Roach and still keep up with your cleaning job. It helps that the others put in a little more effort to keep things cleaner for you, and you do your best to thank them whenever you get the chance.

Your next two months are spent cleaning in the mornings, rehearsing in the afternoons, and shadowing Farah at night. You’re given your own space backstage for your clothes and a place to do your makeup when the time comes.

Outside of work, you find yourself on your phone trying to catch up on the various group chats Soap and Kyle have added you to. It’s a lot for you, but you relish in the busy schedule; the exhaustion lets you sleep easier on your dingy motel mattress, and the sense of freedom, of having your own life, trumps any kind of stress your new working hours may cause.

Rehearsals are a blast. Roach and Farah make it fun for you, Roach teaching you sign language during your breaks, and Farah teaching you a few songs in Arabic.

Your audience consists of Alex, whose attention is almost always on Farah, and Soap and Kyle, the latter being more than happy to cheer you on while the former goes through your phone to change everyone’s contact names and ringtones.

Occasionally Ghost will shadow Price as he joins the others at the bar, watching with amused interest. Price doesn’t say much; he simply watches, offering polite applause when appropriate and leaving before rehearsals end.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you nervous, but it’s a fight figuring out where your nerves stem from.

You want to do good, want to impress the club, but something stirs in the pit of your stomach when you catch those steely blue eyes focusing on you. Yes, you want to impress them, to make them proud, but there’s a baser, far more selfish desire to show Price specifically just how good you are. You want him to notice you.

Don’t get involved with your boss, you remind yourself.

You push the feeling down, trying to keep your composure as Price stays for more and more rehearsals. You put in a little extra effort, pretending not to notice him noticing you and allowing yourself the confidence boost whenever he flashes you a smile.

It isn’t until the fourth week that he stays through the entire rehearsal, walking up next to you with a gentle hand splayed across your back.

“You’re doing a great job,” he murmurs in your ear as he reaches past you to grab a drink from Alex. He lets his hand linger before pulling away with a look that nearly sends you to your knees. You feel the blush that immediately floods your face and catch the smirk on his as he turns away to talk to Farah.

That bastard.

As embarrassed—and slightly turned on—as you are, you take the compliment and ride the high his praise gives you for the rest of the week.

After two and a half months of rehearsing, you lie back on the bed in your motel room, listening to one of the many playlists you and Farah created together as you try to get a quick nap before you have to return to the club. Your phone chimes from where it sits, charging on your tilted nightstand. As you pick it up, it chimes again, the name GAZ popping up on your screen.

You sit up, swiping open the message. It’s two quick, simple messages: Can you come in early tonight? Farah needs your help with something. You don’t see the harm in it; you’ve helped out her and Roach during shows a few times. You reply with a thumbs up that Kyle responds to with a ‘thank you’ and a smiley face.

You freshen up, hurrying out to your car. You listen to your playlist on the way, humming along and tapping to the beat on your steering wheel. When you pull into the back and lock your car, you do your usual double and triple-check before making your way inside.

“Hey!” Alex calls out when you come into view of the bar. He sets a mug on the bar for you, and when you pick it up, the pleasurable scent of lemon and ginger fills your nose. “Farah’s waiting backstage for you,” he smiles.

“Thanks, Alex,” you hum, wrapping your hands around the warm mug and heading toward the stage. You sip from the mug, humming at the delicious taste. “Tea’s great, by the way!” you call over your shoulder, hearing Alex’s laugh as you walk backstage.

You see Farah first, sitting at her vanity as she talks with Kyle and Roach. You pause, not expecting to see anyone beside Farah, and are even more surprised when Valeria walks up, Soap trailing behind her with arms full of your dresses.

“Looks like a party back here,” you laugh.

“There she is!” Soap cheers, setting the clothes down carefully over one of the chairs before pulling you in for a hug. “’Bout time you got here.”

“I’m not even late,” you scoff, playfully pushing him away.

“You're here just in time,” Farah says, smiling widely. You want to smile back, but notice how everyone else matches her grin as they stare at you, Valeria and Kyle appearing extra smug.

“You’re not about to ask me to do something illegal, are you?” you ask, looking between the small crowd of your co-workers and friends.

“Of course not,” Kyle frowns in mock offense.

“Not yet, anyway,” Valeria adds quietly.

“Wha—”

“I’m not performing tonight,” Farah steps in. Your concern for Valeria’s words melts into concern for Farah as your eyes glance over her, looking for any injuries or reason for worry.

“You’re not? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Canary,” Farah laughs lightly.

“Then why aren’t you…”

“Because you’re performing instead.”

If you didn’t have your hand woven through the handle of your mug, you’re sure it would’ve slipped from your grasp.

“I’m…what?”

“You’re taking my place tonight!” Farah smiles, standing from her chair to start sorting through your dresses.

“And if you do well enough, we’ll put you on stage a few nights a week until Farah leaves,” Kyle explains.

“And…Price is okay with this?” You immediately take a sip of your tea after asking, hoping to excuse the warmth in your cheeks with the heat from the drink.

“It was his idea,” Roach signs, shoulders shaking in soft laughter. “And it won’t be for the whole night, just a small set.”

“Think the old man’s got a soft spot for ya,” Soap chuckles.

Ignore him.

Don’t think about your boss.

Your very handsome, tall, strong—

Stop it.

“Well,” you sigh, “guess tonight’s as good a night as any.” You’re met with a chorus of cheers as Valeria ushers the guys out of the room while Farah begins holding up dresses, trying to find the best one for you.

“Put her in something blue,” Valeria says, not even looking at the two of you.

You can’t help but ask, “Why blue?”

“Hasn’t even finished her first performance, and she’s already questioning my fashion choices,” Valeria tisks.

“Means she’s learning,” Farah laughs, sending you a wink as she holds up a dress that’s all baby blue and silk. “Try this on.”

You set your mug down, take the dress from Farah, and move behind one of the screens to change.

You have to admit, Valeria knows what she’s talking about. The dress is exquisite, soft on your skin, and backless with long sleeves, a plunging neckline, and a high slit. Your shoulder is covered perfectly, the fabric gentle against the raised skin.

You step out from behind the screen, Valeria letting out a low whistle of appreciation.

“Told you,” Valeria smirks over to Farah.

Farah leads you to your vanity, sitting you down away from the mirror. You peer over your shoulder, seeing your makeup laid on the vanity. Farah sorts through different eyeshadow palettes, trying to find something to match the color of your dress.

Something gently grazes your right ear, and you jump, flinching slightly away from Valeria’s hand.

“Easy,” Valeria laughs, but her eyes narrow in brief curiosity. It’s a quick flash, easily covered by a polite, professional smile. “I was going to do your hair.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Right of passage,” Farah laughs from your other side. “It’s your first night, so we get to dress you up.”

“Don’t worry, avecita.” Valeria purrs, taking a piece of your hair between her fingers. “It’ll be fun.”

She's right, of course.

Farah does your makeup while Valeria does your hair, the two passing jokes and comments back and forth as they do.

You’re reminded of the few sleepovers you were allowed as a child with the daughters of your father’s acquaintances. You’d always loved those sleepovers, even if you hadn’t been close with the other girls there. You enjoyed the brief sense of normalcy and the fun of going through your mother’s closet to dress up in her finest clothes, those few memories you’ve held close to your heart in the years since.

It’s far more enjoyable with Farah and Valeria. It’s no sleepover, but you feel far closer to them than any of the girls from previous times. They make their makeover enjoyable—like two sisters helping you get ready for a party.

“Alright,” Valeria says as she and Farah take a step back. “All done.”

Farah gives you a once-over, nudging Valeria’s arm and muttering, “Shoes.” Valeria glances down at your boot-clad feet and nods.

“Can you walk in heels?” Valeria asks.

I’ve spent most of my life in stilettos.

“Yeah, no problem,” you smile. Valeria gives a soft hum of approval, walking away and returning seconds later with a pair of strappy, jewel-toned heels. They give you a minute to change your shoes, stepping back as you stand up.

You turn to the mirror, taking in your appearance. If there was a word you would use to describe yourself, it would be stunning. You can’t help the smile as you take the chance to twirl in the dress, admiring the way it sits on your figure.

You haven’t felt this beautiful since—

You try not to tense, smile dropping slightly as you swallow the sudden anxiety and calm your heart.

Taking a deep breath, you catch the eyes of Valeria and Farah in the mirror, the two of them proudly examining their work. You broaden your smile, shaking any memories from your mind as you turn to face them.

“Perfect,” you grin.

“We can practice back here until the show starts,” Farah says, tapping something on her phone before taking a seat at her own vanity. Valeria adjusts your hair one last time, tucking a stray piece behind your ear before she takes her leave, wishing you luck in a voice far more teasing than encouraging.

Roach appears backstage, jaw dropping as he takes in your appearance. “You look great.”

You blush at the compliment before Roach returns to business mode, and he and Farah take the next half hour walking through the setlist with you. It’s all songs you’ve practiced with her and nothing you haven’t done before, at the club or the one before.

As the first noises of the crowd begin to echo through the club, Roach leaves you and Farah. Farah stands, helping you up with a soft smile.

She gets you set up at the microphone, just behind the thick velvet curtains sitting closed on the stage.

“You’re going to do great,” she says gently, squeezing your hands before taking her leave.

Finally alone, you take a deep breath, shut your eyes tight, and roll your shoulders back.

You hear the voice in the back of your mind, murmuring quietly into your ears as the feel of calloused hands ghost over your back.

My sweet little songbird.

Try not to disappoint, darlin'.

You shiver, hands tightening into fists. Focusing on the noise around you, you take another deep breath, absorbing yourself in your surroundings.

He’s not here.

You’re safe here.

You’ve got this.

It has to be enough for you as the music starts, blaring throughout the club. You count yourself in, belting out the first note as the curtains slide open, and you're met with curious faces and excited cheers.

It feels good to sing again.

It feels good to perform.

You let loose, allow this time to be enjoyed and give it your absolute all.

You focus mainly on the bar where Alex, Farah, and, surprisingly, Nikolai cheer you on, applauding after every song.

Sometimes you spot Soap as he serves the patrons, and he makes a point to whistle and wink whenever you lock eyes.

Kyle spends most of his time bouncing back and forth between the bar and the dancefloor, where he twirls around a familiar woman in a beautiful teal dress.

Halfway through your set, you spot Price talking with Nikolai and Ghost hovering nearby. Nikolai claps him on the back, and the two turn to watch you.

Fuck it.

You up your performance—a slight shimmy here, a little shake of your hips there—doing your best to entertain the crowd and tease the hell out of your boss. It works, the dancers whistling and shouting while Price leans back against the bar, legs spread wide as he reclines and drums his finger along his thigh.

Your ego boosted, you continue the show with that same passion until you reach the final two songs. As you reach your last song, you begin to wind down, a little less oomph in your performance.

As you finish, the crowd goes wild. Roach transitions into one of his playlists. The moment the curtains pull shut, you take several hurried steps away from the mic, taking long, deep breaths. You let the adrenaline slow, a wide grin plastered on your face.

You hear the footsteps first before arms wind around your waist and lift you to spin you in a circle.

Roach sets you down, beaming down at you in excitement. “You were amazing.”

“Thank you,” you sign back. Roach’s smile grows wider as he pulls you into another hug before he lets you go and returns to his post.

You pass through backstage, not bothering to change out of your dress. You make your way toward the bar, occasionally being stopped by a patron who offers compliments to your songs or your dress. It takes a few extra minutes, but you make it to the bar, waving off compliments with a bashful smile and polite goodbyes.

“Nightingale!” Soap yells the moment you reach the bar. He lifts you into a bear hug, setting his hands on your shoulders when he sets you down. His eyes rake over your form appreciatively, smirking at you when he reaches your eyes again. “Parents shoulda’ named you Great Tit.”

“You’re showing more chest than I am!” you laugh, playfully slapping him on the chest where he has far too many buttons undone to be appropriate in a normal setting.

“Wasn’t complainin’, Dove,” Soap winks as Alex fills his tray. Soap lifts it, bumping your hip with his as he heads back into the crowd.

“You’re a natural,” Alex laughs, setting two glasses before you. One’s a tall flute of what you assume is champagne, the other a short glass of whiskey.

“What’s this?”

“The tall one’s for you. A celebratory glass for getting through your first show.”

You pluck the glass from the bar top, taking an appreciative sip.

“Who’s the other for?” you ask, leaning forward onto the bar top. A warm palm sets itself on the bare skin of your back, sliding slowly down until it settles on your lower back.

“That one’s for me,” the deep, accented baritone of Price’s voice murmurs into your ear. He leans forward to grab his drink, purposely pressing his body against yours. He settles against the bar next to you, leaning against the bar top with his hip while his hand stays pressed against your back.

“Quite the performance,” he smirks, thumb lightly running back and forth across your skin.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” you smirk back, sipping from your champagne, tongue darting out to swipe the remainder from your lips. He leans forward ever-so-slightly, eyes dipping down to follow your tongue.

“Well, I must say—”

“You were fantastic!” Price pulls away from you as Kyle comes up behind him, beelining straight for you. Kyle pulls you into a small hug, kissing your cheeks lightly. “I knew we made a good decision hiring you.” Kyle sends a pointed look to Price, who raises a hand in mock surrender.

“You were right,” Price chuckles, smoldering gaze boring into you. “She’s perfect.”

Kyle pauses, looking between you and Price before turning fully toward you with a devious grin.

“Fancy a dance?” Kyle asks, nodding back to the dancefloor.

You give Price one last look, setting your glass down and reaching over to grab his, fingers purposely grazing his. You down what’s left of his drink, ignoring the burn as you set the glass down and turn to Kyle with a toothy grin.

“I’d love to dance.” Kyle takes your hand with a laugh, pulling you to the dancefloor.

You get a few dances in with Kyle before Purple Dress, now Teal Dress, reclaims his attention. You don’t mind, as another man is eagerly ready to take his place, twirling you in a circle before pulling you in close.

The next few songs pass in a blur, spinning and dancing with this mystery man. You don’t get his name, but he’s easy on the eyes and dressed from head to toe in designer.

Five songs later, you feel your feet begin to hurt, politely excusing yourself from your dance partner. You don’t head to the bar, instead moving off to the side to lean against the wall near the doors to Price’s office.

Bending slightly, you lift one of your feet, balancing against the wall with one hand and using the other to loosen the straps of your heel.

“Need help with that?”

A body presses up against your back, hands settling on hips, fingertips dipping slightly beneath the open back of your dress. You stand up straight, trying to step away so you can turn to whoever’s behind you, but the stranger’s hands tighten, pulling you back harshly against them.

“I can handle myself,” you speak firmly, setting your hand over theirs and digging your nails into their skin. They hiss, letting go, and you immediately take three steps back.

You whip around, facing the man you’d been dancing with as he massages his hands with a scoff.

“Thought we had something going,” he says, stepping forward.

“We danced,” you say, keeping your voice flat. “It was fun for a while, but we’re done now.”

“Come on, sweetheart.” His arm shoots out, hand wrapping tightly around your upper arm. You pull back on instinct, but the hand tightens to a painful vice.

“Let go of me,” you hiss, trying to pull away. The man rolls his eyes, yanking you forward to wrap his other arm around your waist.

“Think you’ve had a little too much to drink, sweetheart,” he mutters, the hand around your waist moving dangerously low. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, hands vibrating with anxiety. Panic courses through your veins, and you follow the first instinct that comes to you.

You push against his chest, giving you enough distance to reach up and slap him, digging in your nails to claw at the stubbled skin of his cheek. He releases you with a shout, pressing a hand against the bloodied scratches on his face. His eyes land on you, angered glare filled with malicious intent.

“You stuck-up bit—”

A massive body blocks your view as the man cries out in pain.

“You okay?” You turn to the right, where Ghost stands, holding a cautious hand toward you.

“Ye—um, yeah. I’m fine,” you stammer. Ghost seems unconvinced but nods as someone groans in pain. You both turn as König picks up the man who had grabbed you by his collar, the man’s nose pouring blood.

“Please do not touch the staff,” König says, his usually soft-spoken tone suddenly far more threatening than friendly.

“Fuck, I think you broke my nose,” the man groans.

“Consider yourself lucky that’s all we broke,” Ghost spits before turning to König. “Get him outta here.”

König nods, roughly pulling the man to his feet and dragging him toward the front doors of the club.

“You sure you’re okay?” Ghost asks once König and the man are out of sight.

“A little shaken up, but I’ll be alright. Thanks.” He sets a cautious hand on your shoulder, and you send him a small smile.

“We’ll be closing soon, you oughta get changed.”

You nod once, then again more confidently, as you feel his hand lightly tap your shoulder. He walks beside you to the backstage door, only departing once he’s sure you’re inside.

You move on autopilot, grabbing your clothes and stripping out of your dress. You change back into your jeans and shirt, sighing in relief as you slip off your heels and put your boots back on. You don’t bother with your hair or makeup, deciding to deal with that when you return to your motel.

You step back out, heading straight for the bar keeping your eyes forward.

The club is winding down, the bulk of patrons gone now with the few remainders getting in their last drinks.

“Hey!” Kyle cheers as you approach the bar. He slings an arm around your shoulders, leading you to the small group formed at the end of the bar: Alex, Farah, Valeria, and Teal Dress.

The group cheers as you approach, raising glasses in your direction.

“I told you you’d do great.” Farah hands you a glass with a proud smile. You don’t drink from it, setting it down on the bar with a shy smile.

“I think a couple of us are going out for a few more celebratory drinks before heading home,” Kyle says, sidling up to Teal Dress and setting a hand around her waist. “If you’d like to join us.”

“No, thanks. I think I’m gonna head home.”

“You sure?” Alex asks, wiggling his eyebrows in a way that gets a small giggle out of you.

“I’m sure,” you nod. “If someone could walk me out to my car, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Easily done,” Valeria says with a casual wave. She turns around, glancing around the club until she spots Alejandro holding the front door open for the last few patrons. She lets out a shrill whistle, Alejandro’s head snapping toward the group.

After the last patron leaves, he closes the door, locking it behind them before going over to you. Valeria meets him halfway, whispering to him. You see him glance at you before he says something back to her. She blinks in mild surprise before her jaw sets, and she huffs.

She turns away from him, heading back to the bar with a clearly forced smile directed at you.

“Alejandro will walk you out.”

You want to ask, but the aura of anger oozes off her in violent waves, and you decide against it.

“Okay,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself and running your hands up and down your arms. You startle when you touch bare skin, realizing you’ve left your jacket backstage.

“I’ve gotta grab something real quick. I’ll meet you out front?”

Alejandro nods, and you hurry backstage. You grab your jacket, pull it on, and fold the sleeves up to your elbow. You take another minute to check your reflection, shaking out the nerves skating beneath your skin.

“You’re okay,” you tell your reflection. You give yourself a sharp nod, turning away and heading back into the club. The group is gone, presumably having left for their celebratory drinks, the house lights dimmed significantly down.

You check your pockets, making sure you have your phone, wallet, and keys as you slowly head toward the door.

“Please!”

You stop, hearing the pitched whine behind you. You turn around, eyes searching the almost darkness for the source of the noise.

You wait a few seconds, ears straining to hear something else.

It takes almost ten solid seconds before you hear it again. A harsh grunt, this time followed by the low murmur of several voices.

The source isn’t a mystery, coming from behind the slightly cracked door of Price’s office. You glance back at the front door, turning back to the office.

Alejandro’s waited this long. He can wait a little longer.

You creep toward the office, the grunting and pleading growing louder the closer you get. You press against the closed door, peering in through the crack. Pushing the door slightly more open gives you a better view of the office.

The lights are low in the office, the only reliable source coming from the lit fireplace. Valeria lounges on one of the sofas, sitting across from Nikolai, while Ghost lurks in the back near the bookcase. All three are focused intently on the center of the room, where a man sits tied to a chair with his face beaten to a bloody pulp.

Head lolled to the side, the man groans, blood dripping from his mouth as he tries to speak.

Standing before him, knuckles bruised, blood splattered from his hands, up his arms where his sleeves have been rolled up, onto his chest where the top buttons have been undone, and across his cheeks is Price. Tiny beads of sweat drip down his face into those cold and uncaring blue eyes.

“Let’s go over the rules of my club one last time, shall we?”

Price sets a hand on the back of the chair, tilting it onto its back legs so the man is forced to look up at him.

“One—” Price holds up a finger, “—No guns, no knives, no weapons.”

The man tries his best to hold Price’s gaze, but his head lolls back, falling over the back of the chair. He’s not as easy on the eyes anymore, but you clearly recognize the man who had grabbed you as he blinks hazily, trying to process the things around him.

You can’t help the gasp that escapes your lips. Covering your mouth to dampen the sound, you freeze in the doorway. No one in the office moves, so you keep your place, doing your best to stay quiet as you watch the scene before you.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that.” Price slaps the man’s cheek before gripping his jaw and pulling the man's face down to look him in the eye. The man groans, tapering off into a pained whine. “You hear me, yeah? You’re still running your mouth, so I know you’re not unconscious yet.”

The man groans again, and Price huffs, dropping the chair and stepping back.

“Don’t think we’re getting anywhere with this one,” Price tells his small audience.

“Well,” Price sighs, “S’pose we’ll just skip to the most important rule since that’s the one you seem to be having trouble with.” Price rolls back his shoulders, flexing his hand before delivering a final, solid punch to the man’s face. Something cracks as the man breaks down into muffled sobs.

Price rolls his eyes, gripping the man's short hair and pulling his face up. Price stares down at him for a quiet moment before he tilts his head and lifts his gaze to stare directly into your eyes as he speaks to the man.

“You don’t touch what’s mine.”

taglist: @sleepyendymion, @blazedprince, @blueoorchid, @ohgodthebogisback, @melancholyy-hill, @wasteland-babe, @meepetteoneonly, @anitaebee, @honeyr4ven, @curasimp, @jxvipike, @frazie99, @reiya-djarin, @urfavsunkissedleo, @hauntingtherosebush,@aerangi, @ofmenanduhhhwellmen, @warners-wife, @xx4rcticxx, @mundane-frogola, @marytvirgin, @nyooom, @gogh-with-the-flow, @arctic-writes, @thriving-n-jiving, @deadpoetsandhoney, @itsberrydreemurstuff, @blurpleuni-squid

#captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #captain price #john price #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #mw fics #moth writes

649 notes · View notes