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bigguyenthusiast · 2 months

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141 and their captain’s assistant

- it all started with a comment made by Laswell, she mentioned to John how tired he seems, how his eye bags are growing heavier each day passing

- she recommended him to get an assistant, John declined the offer and tried to get back to work, but laswell already made the call, she knew how annoying John can be when it comes to getting help

- then enters a pretty little thing, your hair in a messy bun, glasses neatly resting on your pretty face, short pencil skirt hugging your curves perfectly

- John couldn’t help himself from staring, gawking at you like some horny teenager

- the boys began seeing you scurrying around the base more often, the first to approach you was Johnny of course

- his deep voice partnered with his thick Scottish accent made you subconsciously bite your lip, staring up at him with your big doe eyes, you don’t even mean to, it’s just that more than half of the people in here were 6feet+

- Johnny’s flirtatious nature made you giggle, lightened up your day, but not your boss’

- every time the Scott decided to drop by your desk to accompany you, he’d get scolded by his captain

- “don’t need you distracting her from her job”

- “it’s her break, cap, plus, she’ a good lass, I’m sure she’s on top of…all her work” the scott would throw you a wink before his captain orders him to run laps around the base

- next came gaz, since he’s always visiting his captain’s office for reports, he saw you at the new desk in the captain’s office, the aura around you not matching anything in the dim, old and boring office, you gave him a slight smile before returning to your paperwork

- but gaz wasn’t going to let that be the end of your interactions no no

- he’d walk up to you in the mess hall, as you’re loading your plate up, striking a conversation with you, making last long enough for him to lead you to a table with his other teammates

- you shyly but politely sit down and introduce yourself to the masked man who sat opposite of you, his brown eyes staring into yours as his arms stayed locked, he just nodded and replied “ghost”

- you figured he’s not a social one, the Scot and the Brit both kept asking you questions, some may have been a bit intrusive but maybe they’re just being friendly !

- “so why ar’ ye here?”

“Kate laswell requested that I work for John price for a few months to ease the paperwork load on him”

- “I’m sure there’s a different kind of load he’s trying to get you to ease off of him”

- the three of your heads snap to the silent man, his brown eyes seemed to be crinkled, suggesting he was grinning or smirking underneath that mask

- “OI! LT’s got jokes, but he doesn’t mean anything by it” Johnny tried to reassure you, glaring at Simon as you looked down at your food

- you excused yourself as you made your way back to price’s office, you saw him still there, no signs of him moving at all “captain ? Did you eat today?” You asked sweetly

- oh what this man wouldn’t give to have the honours of eating you for every meal of the day, to have you sprawled on his desk, papers sticking to your sweaty skin, your chest rising and falling as you try to quiet yourself so nobody hears what your captain is doing to you

- “captain” fuck he’d love to hear you moan his rank, begging him to be gentle, but he knows deep down you’re a dirty girl and you want your “captain ?!”

- John snapped out of his daydream, he looked up at you, you were leaning to the side trying to check on him “have you eaten today?” You asked again, a worried look in your eyes

- John nods, not looking you in the eyes “yeah yeah” he cleared his throat as he tried to get back to work, but your soft, smaller hand stopped him from grabbing his pen, his brown eyes looked up, ab eyebrow raised as if to ask ‘what are you doing?’

- “I’m sorry, captain but I can’t allow you to get back to work if you haven’t had food” you stated, your body trembling as you stood your ground

- truthfully, price can easily launch you across the room with one arm, he knows his limits, and you’re nowhere near it, but you were right, he does need to eat, and although he wishes he could order you to spread your pretty thighs for him and let him have his fun, he doesn’t want to lose such a pretty sight so fast

- he let go of the pen, leaning back on his office chair “I haven’t brought any food”

“The mess hall still have some food there”

- “I don’t eat that rubbish”

“Well too bad, you need to eat”

- ooh… I guess his little kitty got claws now

#call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #ghost x reader #captain price #ghost #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kate laswell #john soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz x reader

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otto-s-alskling · 2 months

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TF141 X Hardworker!Reader

"Their Sleepyhead"

You're a hard worker, everyone knows that. God, even Price had to carry you a few times to bring you to bed (and not in *that* way, get your mind out the gutter!) But your insistent attitude of working till you collapse is a trait that the 141 is aware that will never go away, not when they've seen you do it for over three years.

Price

You have your office close to his, connected with an adjoining door which was lucky because you bought your own coffee machine. Majority of the time, you're brewing him a fresh cup of coffee, black with a hint of sugar to cut the full bitterness.

He loves listening to you shuffling and singing next door, sometimes singing back to your songs when duets are playing from your phone but he'd be damn and hide in a hole before he'd let you know that he sings along to you and your velvety voice with his gruff one.

But this also includes him actually hearing you when your head finally thuds down on the desk when you refused to stop working from 5AM till wee hours of the night. He'd peek through the adjoining door first before sighing and picking you up, cradling you close before carrying you out the offices, ignoring looks from the other soldiers still awake late at night. Gaz would immediately walk up to help, opening the doors for Price so he can tuck you into bed, removing your boots before turning off the lamp light. He'd sneak a forehead kiss before closing the door and walking back to the offices, ignoring his racing heartbeat.

Soap

Our Scot is a freaking sweetheart (this is the hill I'll die on.) If he knows Cap isn't in office or in a mission or conference somewhere, you bet your ass he'd delegate himself into keeping company, literally. He'd play on his phone in your office couch, nothing too loud but just enough to be there.

Talks will be nonstop and he'd teach you some Scottish slangs too, much to a certain Skull masked teammate. He'd even teach you traditions and if he had the time and the energy, he'd do your hair into some Scottish Braids. (Look em up, they're GORGEOUS.)

He'd pause from time to time, get a snack or something and he'd come back with something for you too! And if you fell asleep, you bet he'd transfer you over to the couch and find your emergency blanket and tuck you in.

He'd brush your hair out of your face and plant a kiss on your cheek before sitting on the floor next to the couch, just playing on his phone till he fall asleep himself or if he gets hungry and get another snack. He'd wait till you wake up, and not even Ghost can drag him out the room. Someone had to guard the team's Bonnie after all.

Gaz

If you think he wouldn't help out with the paperwork, you'd be fucking wrong. Being the youngest meant you two are the closest, age wise anyways. Would pause halfway on working to show you something in TikTok or play some random playlist on YouTube or Spotify just to break the silence in the room.

He'd being his own snacks, which also includes a big bar of Cadbury. Sometimes Lindt if he got to visit in the nearby city. Work goes faster so he always try to help out on hell week so you wouldn't handle the full brunt of the workload.

If you fall asleep, he'd switch the music to a lullaby or a soft classical music, keeping you asleep as long as he can anyways. Like Soap, he'd transfer you to the couch but he'd push an armchair flush against the couch to block you in from falling like a pseudo bed (or fort or crib. Do people still do this?)

Tucks you in gently and continues his half of the paperwork before joining you on the couch and cuddling you to sleep. He's not one to pass up in getting to sleep in your arms after all.

Ghost

This man trusts with his life. (He'd never say it out loud.) He wasn't really warm with the idea of having a support member in the team, especially one who's specialty ranges from medic to sniper to assistant. Like how is that even possible? So when he realized that you're one of the most hardworking person he'd ever met, respect was earned... And affection.

It was around halfway the second year when he showed his face to you, the heat surge in the office making it annoying to have the mask. He didn't make a fuss so you didn't as well, just working along with him and Price in the Captain's office and hope to survive the heatwave enough. Door was locked so he was confident enough to do it even if Price did raise an eyebrow for a moment before shrugging it off.

By the third year, he already made it a habit to remove his mask once he got you to your room, finally dragging you to bed even before you fall asleep on the desk. You'd grumble and complain but when he glares you down, you relent anyways, not like you can fight him back easily when he's the largest amongst your teammates. So against your unnecessary complaints, he'd spoon you till you fall asleep, much thanks for your exhausted body and mind. Once asleep, he'd sneak a nap for an hour or two himself before letting you be, heading back to his own room, but not after sneaking a kiss to the hair and hand. For him, you're his hardworking lovie, not that he'd let it slip out to everyone else.

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charliemwrites · 4 months

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Part 4 of Mafia!Price

No Content Warnings

There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.

He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.

You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.

Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.

“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”

You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.

“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”

He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.

Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.

Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.

“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”

Will need to call later today — as if!

“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.

He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.

“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.

You blink. Are you what?

“Tomorrow, sir?”

He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”

When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.

“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”

You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.

“I do now.”

Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.

“Of course you’re coming along.”

“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”

“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”

“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”

“‘S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”

You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.

“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”

“‘Fancy man party’?”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”

You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.

“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”

You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.

“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”

You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.

“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”

“Sounds great, luv.”

You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”

He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”

—

Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.

“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”

He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.

He snorts. “My job happened.”

You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”

You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.

He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.

“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”

He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.

The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.

“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”

You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”

But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.

It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.

You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.

“Sir?” you call.

“In here, luv.”

You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.

“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.

You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.

It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.

“E-evening, sir.”

He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”

You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.

“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”

You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.

“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.

“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”

They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.

“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”

They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.

“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.

Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.

“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.

“The silver and diamond.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”

A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”

You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.

“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”

You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”

“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.

You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.

“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.

You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.

“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”

You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.

“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.

Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”

He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.

“That bad, eh?”

“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.

“Gift from an ex,” he explains.

You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.

“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.

He snorts. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.

“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.

“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.

You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.

You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.

Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.

“Pass inspection?” He asks.

“Barely,” you tease.

His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.

“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”

“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.

You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.

“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.

“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”

You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”

Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.

Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.

“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”

You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #mafia!au #mafia boss price #assistant reader

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obsessivelullabies · 4 months

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— being mafia!tf141's assistant.

warnings : possessive, yandere behavior. fem reader.

a/n : i've never written mafia before? i hope this makes sense?? i plan to write four different parts for each of them individually!

— in all honesty, your relations with the mafia were completely accidental. you were a naive young woman in search of work. being some rich guy's assistant sounded easy enough. you did find it a little funny how there was no traditional interview process, just a bunch of slightly sketchy paperwork sent your way. luckily for you, you got the job!

— you were told an address, so you showed up. it turned out to be a massive house, which was even more shady. as you stood outside the door, a little too frightened to knock, you realized how sketchy it all was.

as you were lost in thought, the door swung open, revealing a muscular, shirtless man. he was only adorned in a pair of black boxers, he looked slightly peeved.

"who the fuck are you?" he acknowledged you after eyeing you up and down.

your eyes gazed on his firm chest due to how he nearly towered over you with his height. "i'm the new assistant.." you practically squeaked back at him.

the man grinned suddenly, his demeanor changing. "come in," he stepped aside, allowing you inside their home.

— the place was slightly cluttered as he showed you around, he introduced himself as soap. you assumed, or rather, hoped, it was a nickname. soap was immediately very touchy feely with you, slinging his arm around your waist or shoulder, running his large hand down the small of your back, stopping at your hips.

— soap showed you what your jobs were, things such as cleaning, cooking and basically whatever one of the men needed at the moment. he told you about the three other men, gaz, ghost and price. from what you gathered; they ran some kind of business. every mention of it was vague, yet you picked up that price was the 'boss' of sorts.

— after a lot of chatter, soap left your side and allowed you to work. the next man you met was just coming home, he was dressed fancily, seeming to be in a rush. he was quiet and polite, taking the time to introduce himself. gaz. soap hadn't said much about him.

— gaz was a sweetheart to you, asking you questions about yourself, apologizing for the slight mess in their home. you were excited to work for the two; both seemed pleasant to be around.

— the first two weeks of your job went by smoothly, soap and gaz would often lounge in whatever room you were in, chatting mindlessly to you. you would even say you bonded with the two.

— soap adored how good of an assistant you were. he loved eating your cooking, how you always made sure he liked your efforts. you were so obedient. so perfect for him.

— gaz had grown attached to your pretty little voice. you were so polite. he found it so cute how naive you were, how you never questioned what he did for work. he had a petname for you, ‘gorgeous’. with how much he called you it, you wondered if he even knew your real name.

— when price and ghost returned from their ‘business’, they were both relived to finally have some help. they showed it in different ways.

— at the start, ghost basically ignored you. his skull mask frightened you anyway. he only spoke to you to give you commands, yet over time, your charm grew on him. still, he wasn’t very talkative. he’d request your silent company. something to make him feel less alone.

— price, the boss, was very dominating. he appreciated your hard work, which soap and gaz had told him about. price thought you were adorable as a small animal. something to be protected and pet. every morning when you first got to work, you would make his tea for him. these slowly became his favorite moments.

— the longer you worked for them, the more mysterious they all became. they were vague whenever you hinted at your curiosity. you decided not to pry.

— you were unaware how possessive they’d all became. how they vied for you and yours affections. when price practically demanded you work longer hours, you just assumed you were a super good assistant.

— the four men became obsessive over you after only a few months. your life had gotten.. complicated ever since. especially when you learned what they really did.

masterlist.

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rodolfoparras · 6 months

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Now consider : Free use! Reader but in a/b/o setting

- the a/b/o spitball had every male centric writer in Tumblr scrambling on their feet was delicious btw.

Omega Price who should be above behavior like this but when the three other omegas are asleep he’s sneaking into your room and sinking down on your cock bouncing on it until he reaches his orgasm even staying on your knot because after all if anyone had the right to carry your pups it was the oldest of them all

Omega Gaz and omega Soap who happen to go into heat at the same time and are impatient as ever when it comes to using you, with gaz bouncing on your cock chasing his release while soap is begging and pleading for him to hurry, all while you’re sat at your desk doing paperwork, or sat in the sofa watching a tv show, or at least trying to do so. It would only end with Soap riding your face while Gaz bounces on your cock and it doesn’t take long before they’re arguing over who’s to take your knot

Omega Ghost who feels comfortable enough to take your knot for the first time. Gaz and Soap were supposed to help assist him but when it came down to it, they couldn’t contain themselves, went so many rounds with you until you passed out but Ghost was still sitting there, slick pooling between his thighs whining and whimpering for someone to help him out so they make swift work of preparing him with their fingers before they help him sink down on your cock, all while you’re falling in and out of consciousness

Spitball w/ me?

#alec answers #call of duty #john price x reader #john price x male reader #gaz x reader #gaz x male reader #ghost x reader #ghost x male reader #soap x reader #soap x male reader #top male reader #sub male reader #dom male character #bottom male character

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cod-dump · 7 months

Text

6’0 or above = tall. 6’0 or below = short (Ghost’s rules)

Rudy, 5’9: is short, acts tall without thinking (he’s just chill like that). Has intimidated people taller than him by a single look (Alejandro is the only person not affected by it)

Alejandro, 6’2: is tall, acts tall without thinking (will not abuse his power). “Short people are people too”. Acts like Rudy is taller than him (would die if he actually was)

Roach, 5’8: is short, acts short, watch your shins (and your heels). Would rather do parkour than ask someone for help to get something off the top shelf (has ripped cabinet doors off the hinges)

Ghost, 6’4: is tall, acts tall naturally (will use his tallness against all those below 6’0). Will make short jokes when he feels the need (has gotten bitten by Roach over this)

Price, 6’2 1/2: is tall, acts tall (mostly as an intimidation tactic), switches off the tall act when not on a mission or working (will not abuse his power)

Gaz, 5’11: One inch too short to be tall (according to Ghost). Acts both short and tall (depends on the day/situation). Best of both worlds. Has never abused his power and never will (if Soap was significantly shorter than him he would)

Soap, 5’10: is short (according to Gaz because of Ghost’s bullshit), acts short and tall given the day or situation. Would 100% abuse his power if he was tall

König, 6’10: is tall, acts short without thinking (is used trying to seem smaller than what he actually is). Never has abused his tallness (but he will if he feels the need). Made one short joke (instant regret because it was targeted at Rudy (he survived))

Horangi, 6'2: is tall, acts tall (a conscious decision 80% of the time). Has abused his power but only on people who deserve it (Graves). Makes tall jokes (99.9% are targeted at König)

Farah, 5’3: is short, acts tall when working (naturally). Is not above asking for assistance but will climb the shelves at the grocery store. Very good at climbing (has broken zero cabinet doors)

Alex, 6’1: is tall, acts tall (naturally). Overly eager to help shorter people get things (has been attacked by a feral Roach). Hasn’t abused his power and never will (he’s a good man)

Laswell, 5’8: is short, acts tall (intentional intimidation tactic). Unfazed by short jokes, will ask for assistance, part monkey (is the only person spared by Ghost’s abuse)

Graves, 5’9: is short, actively acts tall whenever he can (insecure). Will get mad at short jokes but plays it off with a smile but you know he’s mad (sensitive)

Nik, 6’3 1/2: is tall, acts tall (chill). “Short people are people too (except Graves)”. Targets Graves (affectionate). Uses short jokes only on tall people (psychological damage + intimidation tactic)

Valeria, 5’6: is short, acts tall (intentional). Makes tall jokes at short people and short jokes at tall people (psychological damage). Will climb for things (and will stab if someone offers help)

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lovifie · 18 days

Note

Hiii 🩷

I really loved your ‘Mr & Mrs. Price’ story where his partner he is marrying is younger than him! I was wondering if you had anymore of those stories?

If not, I was wondering if you could write a little after they get married sort of thing. Like would they have kids right away, etc.

Thank you!!

Hi love!! 🩷🩷 Thank you for asking so nicely 💕

At the moment I don't have anything else written for Price and her younger wife, so I'll write you a little bit of what I thought would happen after the wedding.

A continuation to Mr. & Mrs. Price

The first thing would be the honeymoon, and Price gives me the vibes to go somewhere cold, like the Norwegian Fjords (? I don't know why, he just does. Constantly clinging to his wife like: "I'm cold, dear. Can't you see?" Only to sneaky get his hands under your clothes.

Friends and family complain about how little photos you took, but it's just because most of what you took, were taken inside your room. So many, so many pictures of his hand on your body, the gold band on his finger shining on all of them.

So much fluffy/dirty talk. "My dear, wifey... See? I told you I was going to marry you one day, and look at you, Mrs.Price... so fucking beautiful under me..."

Neither of you are surprised when a couple of months later you get a positive pregnancy test.

"We used protection..." Price says, as if that would change something.

"Yeah... Until we run out, Mr. I Pulled Out." You say.

Having a child so quickly after the wedding was neither of your plans, but Price was already talking about taking a step back from the dangerous mission and for some reason neither of you were panicking after the news.

It was a weird feeling, at first at least. But on the doctor appointment, when you hear the little alien's heartbeat it was set. Price's hand holding yours, the whole way back home.

He did step back from the dangerous mission, working at base helping the recruits and helping on the small missions, not wanting to be far from you. So he spent his working hours at base, and one day he forgot some documents at home and asked if you could bring them to him.

So you did.

You grabbed the folder, and drove your pregnant self to base.

Ghost was the one who saw you first, almost as you stepped off the car. And he was immediately on your side, stunned when he saw your belly.

"Are you..." He asked, not wanting to be rude; looking from your stomach to your face.

You quickly nod, the man's eyebrows disappearing under his mask. He took the folder from your hands, as if it was a heavy piece of furniture you were holding making you laugh. "Congratulations... That's what people say, right?"

You nod again, holding onto his arm to ease his mind as you walk towards Price's office. Small talk about how you were planning a baby shower and if he would like to assist, the panic clear on his face making you chuckle again.

"I'm pulling your leg, Simon. I'll send you a message with the important news." You say, patting his arm.

"And I will be forever grateful for it." He says, slowly falling in a comfortable chat with you.

Gaz and Soap walk out of Price's office just as you turn the corner. Both their expression of shock.

"Captain!" Soap calls him, annoyed with just finding out. "Ye got yer missus pregnant already? Ye filthy dog."

Price furrows his eyebrows, walking out and smiling widely. Quickly walking to you to give a kiss on the lips, his hands resting on your tummy.

"How are my girls doing, sweetheart?" He asks, Simon hearing it perfectly.

"Girls? You are having a baby girl?" He asks, making Gaz and Soap repeat it as echo.

You chuckle again, taking the fold from Ghost's hand and handing it to Price. "We are doing great today, John. Here's the documents, Simon wouldn't let me hold them myself."

"Good lad." He says, nodding at the mancunian making you shake your head.

Unlike Ghost, Gaz actually asks you about the baby shower and if he can assist. Price doesn't say anything, but he is really glad he offered; having now a familiar face at the party.

And even though only Gaz assists in person, he brings a present. "From Ghost, Soap and I, hope the girly likes it. Whenever she uses it."

He says that because the gift is a bright pink toy car for the baby to drive around.

Price complains about the safety of it, but later at night when everyone is gone he sits on the sofa, looking at you drive the car yourself talking about how you always wanted one as a kid. And Price is not sure how he got this lucky in life.

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sprout-fics · 10 months

Note

OMEGAVERSE 141 MY BELOVED OH GOD IM GONNA THINK ABT UR WRITING ALL DAY

I do love this idea, so glad everyone enjoys this too!

Poly TF141 x Omega! Reader Headcanons

(Poly TF14 x F! Omega Reader)

(Part Four: The First Heat)

Tags: Omegaverse, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Hidden designations, Alpha! John Price, Alpha! Simon 'Ghost' Riley, Beta! Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, Omega! John 'Soap' MacTavish, Omega F! Reader, Group dynamics, Poly TF141, Heat cycles, Comfort, SoapGaz, Slowburn

Masterlist

Your heat hits hard

It's not as bad as the one that nearly killed you, but to say it's uncomfortable would be an understatement

You don't notice it at first. You feel off, sure, but everyone has off days. You assume you just ate something bad at breakfast, shrug, and try to move on

As the day progresses you begin to wonder if you're coming down with something. You're parched, too warm, a little shaky. You think maybe it's a cold, that you'll just sleep it off

It isn't until you run into Price later that day that you realize

The scent of an alpha that's scent marked you in the past to help keep other away wafts across your senses, and before you can blink-

It sends you to your knees

Price is alarmed, and reaches for you, before he realizes exactly what's mixed in with your scent. You see his pupils dilatate, see his throat bob as he swallows, but he manages to haul you upwards and slowly helps you to your room

You're sluggish and hazy eyed by the time you get there, leaning your weight onto him fully as your legs refuse to cooperate. You try to apologize, and Price reminds you there's no need, that you can't help it, that he'll make sure you're safely put away

Yet he merely dumps you in your room and extracts himself before he can have a change of heart, quickly texts the others to inform them of the situation

You barely make it into bed, exhausted, feverish, muscles and joints aching. It doesn't take long for you to pass out

When you wake up, it's dark outside, your room is dim, and you feel damp, gross with sweat. Yet there's a little message on your phone from Gaz, letting you know there's a care package for you right outside the door

You manage to crawl over, open the door just enough to slide the box in. Your back presses to the door as you sit on the floor, eyeing the contents

Snacks, water, hygiene items, a little soap bar where someone has taken a blade to redundantly carve the word 'soap' into it, and a black dark hoodie with a scent so heavy that when you hold it to your face you moan.

You notice neither alphas has come to offer their assistance, and for that you're both glad and a little lonely about. The thought is shaken away as you stumble towards the shower, clean off, slide the hoodie on, eat and hydrate, and collapse back into bed

Maybe it won't be a bad heat, you think

You wake up and your world is on fire

There's only hot air as you gasp awake, clawing at your blanket, drenched in sweat, sheets soaked. Your skin itches, and you pull off the hoodie just to get a cool reprieve, only to drag it back on when the ache between your thighs clenches painfully

It feels like you're drowning, like your veins are molten, like you can barely breathe

And between your legs is a searing, pulsing emptiness that makes you clench around nothing, has you buck and gasp and whine in search of reprieve. Yet there's nothing to help. Not even the touch of your scent marked pillow, not even the smell of Ghost's hoodie or water or food

You manage to fumble for your phone, reach and text one single line

"He lp"

It's the middle of the night, you think they aren't awake, and after a few minutes you decide to fix this yourself, pulling yourself from bed towards a cold shower

You don't get far, legs collapsing under you the moment you stand. It's so much, and try as you may you can't seem to drag yourself very far, crying out in frustration and resorting to hauling a blanket from bed to curl on the floor

It's how Soap finds you, curled up and writhing in pain. You see his face float into view, ashen with concern, and still dressed in his sleeping clothes. You take one inhale and whine, arch your neck submissively because he smells faintly like Ghost, like Alpha.

It doesn't take long for him to help you into the bathroom, stick you in the shower with all your clothes on, and turn on the coldest water you can manage

"Yer burning up, hen'." He mutters, eyes cloudy with worry, a hand placed to your forehead. "Need tae cool you down."

He vanishes for a moment, and you whine until he comes back with a clean set of clothes

"Can you get dressed by yourself?" He asks, and you consider, shake your head

Soap is nothing less than a gentleman despite the fact he's already seen you naked before, manages to fumble you dry and get you into fresh clothes before helping you back into your room

It's there that you find Gaz, in the midst of changing your sweat damp sheets, bleary eyed but offering you a smile

You're considerably more relaxed by the time the two sergeants have you fed and hydrated, finally curled up between the both of them on your cot

They're soaked in Price and Ghost's scents, and it's enough to make the need between your thighs relax just enough for you to go limp between them

Your head is cloudy with lust, with need, swimming with low pulsing desire at bodies pressing into you on either side smelling like alpha

It makes you hiccup, tears forming in your eyes at wanting, needing, hoping for them as your blood thrums too warm in your veins, and your voice chokes on their names as if somehow you can summon them the quell the ache

You know, in some distant, logical part of your brain, that Price and Ghost are being more than decent about this, that even if you asked in this state they'd refuse you until your mind is clear

It doesn't stop you from being a whiny, needy, horny mess between the two men that smell like them. Your hips jerk automatically, seeking friction, even as a hand kneads the small of your back to try and soothe you into keeping still. it has the entirely opposite effect, makes your fangs pop out and a low, heady moan tumble past your lips

It aches

Yet then a large, firm hand grasps onto your nape, and you suck in an unsteady breath as someone who smells like an alpha scruffs you, making you automatically go limp and still

"Good omega." Soap purrs in your ear, and you shudder, whine, but remain pliant in his grip, wet eyelashes fluttering as a heavy fog of sleep descends upon you once more, safe in the arms of the two men you trust the most to keep you like this

#omegaverse cod #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #poly tf141 #modern warfare 2 #x reader #reader insert #omegaverse au

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 11 days

Note

A silly little idea but what if reader is asleep in the rec room because she's just so exhausted after mission days ago? And it's not just sleeping, you're literally hibernating. The four men have to check everywhere cause you're not in your room. First is Soap who find you. When he saw you're sleeping peacefully in sitting position on the couch (glad Price has changed that old dusty couch with the new one), he can't help but also feel sleepy, especially seeing how relaxed you are. So instead he joins in sleeping with you on your left side.

The next is Gaz who's been busy finding Soap and need his assistance. He also notices he hasn't met you since morning. When he found both of you snoring in the rec room, he smiled to himself and let the exhaustion take control over him. He's just gonna rest his eyes a bit okay. Now, he sits on your right side and close his eyes.

Ghost has been grumbling because the two sergeants now are absent in rookie's training. He immediately checked the rec room and what greeted him was something that made his heart warmed a bit. He found you, Soap and Gaz are snoring on the couch. Soap's on your left, his head leaning on your smaller shoulder. You're in the middle and Ghost just realized how youthful you're actually looking without too much stress or mental burden when you sleep. Gaz is on your right, his left arm tangles with yours. Ghost smiles behind his mask, pulling out his phone from pocket and snapping at least 10 pictures of you sleeping together. He can use this for the next threat or blackmail (but actually, he saves it for himself because you're just so adorable sleeping together).

As Ghost's about to flee from there, Price enter and sees the whole scene. He looks at Ghost with hint of amusement and shakes his head a bit. He gets out of the room right after telling him "Wake them up in 15 minutes" and Ghost nods.

Hello anon no this is not silly this is soooo cute 😩💖 Imagine them cuddling and sleeping like a pile of cats. They deserve the peace after so many troubles waiting for them. TYVM for sending this wonderful idea to me 🫡💖

TF141*F!Reader

Summary: you fall asleep on the couch in the rec room, and the sergeants joins your nap while Ghost and Price enjoying the scene

Each Other’s Shelter

“Bonnie?”

Soap opens the door to the rec room. He has been finding you, yet almost dug through the whole base, the last place he expects you will be in is the rec room. You aren’t someone who would fall asleep easily already, let alone sleeping outside your room. So when he sees your figure, sitting on the couch in a weird position that he doubts how you’re able to sleep like a bear hibernating and unbothered by all the noises, he’s sort of confused and amused at the same time.

He walks towards you, casting a shadow on your figure when he stands in front of you. You look so serene and young, your usual frown and stress-included expression vanishes when you’re deep in your sweet dreams.

“Bonnie?” He whispers again as he kneels.

You still don’t move or react even a bit, and he laughs quietly at your slightly agape mouth.

The mission you guys just completed a few days ago must have exhausted you to your limit, but he loves to see you like this, wandering in your own dreams without the mundane burden on your shoulders.

Soap lets out a big yawn which even surprises him, he thought he was quite energetic a few minutes ago, but he wouldn’t complain about the spell you secretly cast on him with your peaceful presence.

A short nap won’t kill him, right? He contemplates as he takes a seat on your left side, letting your bodies squeeze together that the warmth is flowing between, and drifts into the dream along you.

Gaz asks almost everyone whether they saw Soap or not, he really needs some help from the sergeant right now, and even you have not been seen since the morning, like you two just disappear from the base.

He almost starts forming the conspiracy theory that you two are playing hide and seek together and the winner will get the excessive one-slice cake stored in the fridge.

He’s feeling tired from the sore muscles and the lack of rest after the grueling mission. The whole team just straight back to work after dealing with those bullshits, he’s worn out, and surely you and Soap are the same as him when he enters the rec room and sees you snuggling on the couch.

Soap leans his head on your smaller shoulder compared to the team, and seems like you unconsciously scoot yourself to seek the heat beside you, as your head angles towards Soap’s too.

A little tranquil haven built by you two inviting him to join with its magically soothing comfort.

Just going to rest his eyes for a while, the papers can wait.

Telling himself and chuckling at your suddenly stuttered tiny snores, he sinks into the couch beside you.

Gaz smiles when he imagines you shooting daggers at him when he laughs at you for your adorable snores later, and lets the rest he longs for cocoon him from the chaotic world.

When one of the recruits asks him about his sergeants since they’ve been waiting for them and their training, but neither Gaz nor Soap shows up, Ghost just sighs and waves the recruit off, and goes on his way to search the little dorks.

He doesn’t stop and guess where they will be, he just heads to the rec room. His instincts and years with his teammates instruct him the whereabouts of them.

What Ghost doesn’t expect is you’re with them too, and he takes in the scene unfolding in front of him, the heartwarming vibes filling the room make him soften and curl the corner of his lips under his mask.

When was the last time he felt such overwhelmed by tenderness that his bad temper was conciliated? He lost count of it, but he knew only his team and his love could provide him with this relief.

He fishes out his phone and snapping you cuddling together like newborn bear babies. The photos capture the sight and freeze the gentleness wonderfully, from how you and Soap tilt towards each other, to the way your arm tangles with Gaz’s, fingers intertwined tightly like you are afraid to let go.

Ghost watches the exhaustion brings all of you to somewhere without having to worry. Of course he notices Gaz hits his limits after the mission even though he tries to hide it, and Soap is unaware of the need for rest which’s deep down his heart. You force yourself to keep going with tiredness chaining your ankles, ending up adding wrinkles in your brow these days. Now the vivid contrast reminds him how youthful you actually look, and he hopes the innocence can stay on your beautiful face longer.

Stepping backward in order to leave, Ghost halts when he hears the low huffs of laughter coming from behind.

“Price.” He calls the man narrowing his eyes and obviously enjoying what’s happening in the rec room just like him, and shakes his head feigning a resigned attitude. No words are exchanged between them, as they just want to admire the undisturbed view in silence.

“Wake them up in 15 minutes.” Ghost feels the reassured pat on his shoulder before the Captain exits the room with a lighter mood.

His eyes trail at Price’s figure until it becomes a dot from the distance, then turns back to the three of you still napping on the same spot without stirring.

Glancing at his watch to remind himself to wake up all of you, Ghost guesses 5 more minutes is acceptable, and he knows Price will agree with him.

a/n: Price ‘threatens’ Ghost to send him the photos btw

thx for reading, have a nice day/night :D!

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bluegiragi · 12 days

Note

Hi friend!! I've been following you on a couple platforms when it comes to your amazing art!! I know you've talked about ghostprice, but I saw the Price's hand on the back of Kyle's neck and was wondering if you could talk about the relationship between price and gaz? I loved the ghost price one, but I totally understand if you don't have the same write up for these two lol

!!! thank you so much for this ask, because i love thinking about this dynamic in my free time.

lots of reading under the cut!

so, because I like to cherry-pick influences from canon, in the monster au, Gaz and Price met before Gaz got drafted into the 141. Gaz was the harpy escort to a standard military op that got off-track when doing recon, and ended up wrapped up in a territorial dispute with two griffin hybrids. The whole team got stuck sandwiched between the two with neither side willing to let them move, and when Gaz tried to fly above to do some surveillance he got beaten out of the sky by both of them (they don't take kindly to interlopers interfering with griffin disputes). They had to request emergency assistance from the closest party which, by chance, happened to be Price's team.

This all happened after Price lost his wing, and on this mission he collaborated with Gaz to help get (most of) his team out safely without having to rely on his skill of flight. They both made strong impressions on each other then, with Gaz forming the first seeds of a long-term loyalty to Price. When his contract with his current station ended, he was all too happy to get poached for the 141.

Coming from a more interpersonal perspective - Gaz is a harpy, which means he's fiercely independent and bases a lot of his identity on not being reliant on anyone. Price is a dragon, which comes with a lot of pesky hoard instincts that instruct him to 'provide' for his hoard. It means that Gaz dislikes being taken care of and a strong instinctual part of Price is unhappy about that. When they're more intimate, Gaz insists on giving as much as he is getting (if not more) and is always seeking ways to contribute and prove his value to the group. Even though he might be chill by harpy standards, Gaz is still very proud and he gets flustered when forced to accept things without 'earning' it.

(also he might have a little bit of hero worship for price lingering in the recesses of his mind)

Price only having one wing and being essentially grounded also adds an extra layer to their relationship. Harpies put a lot of stock in their flying prowess, so the loss of a wing is truly a world-ending event in their culture and he's extremely uncomfortable broaching the subject with Price even though he'd be happy to talk about it if pushed. He also feels that it is his role to be Price's 'wings' now, which is a sentiment that he hasn't shared to anyone but puts a lot of pressure on himself to live up to. He doesn't think this way out of any sort of pity for Price - his captain has proved time and time again to be the kind of monster worth following - instead, this mentality is him militantly breaking himself down to how useful/valuable he can be to others.

tldr; gaz is bad at accepting care, price wants to take care of him so bad and is slowly figuring out loopholes

#their relationship together is affectionate but still sort of surface level at this point #not that price isnt trying #gaz is just very proud #askbox #pricegaz

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otto-s-alskling · 2 months

Text

TF141 X Fem!Reader

"Dress Up"

Shopping for disguises is something that the Taskforce sometimes dreads and sometimes are excited about. But when the mission called for having you dressed up for the supposed Gala that you are all to attend to, they immediately scrambled to the nearest boutique to find the best gown for you.

The four men sat at the dress boutique, an odd bunch as the sales lady assisting you was inside the changing room to help with the lacing and fixing up the dress. So far, the picks have been good, none of them totally into it because some have been a

... Questionable.

Soap chose a dark navy blue dress that showed so much of your back, which in return immediately got him hit on the back of his head by Ghost.

Gaz chose a rose colored dress but the slit reached almost your hip and Price couldn't have shoved you back in the changing stall so fast to hide you.

Price chose a red dress, a quite regal looking one that's a halter neckline and a glittery mermaid style that got a few appreciative nods.

Ghost, however, picked something that no one else expected him to ever choose. It wasn't goofy or ugly or anything. Quite the opposite.

You stepped out the changing stall, blushing, as you stared at the mirrors and the men all froze, especially Ghost. The three immediately looked at the masked man before looking at you again and they all sported a red shade on their cheeks and ears, refusing to look away from you.

Ghost chose a dress with sweetheart neckline, slightly fitted at the top with a sparkly plain skirt. Nothing too flared or anything but still gorgeous on you. Was even nice enough to get you a silver belt too. The fucking color of the dress? White.

Ghost picked a wedding dress for you to try on.

Imagination ran wild between the men before you cleared your throat. "I don't think I'll wear this one... Cause..." Your voice trailed off when they didn't even move a muscle, just busy gazing at you.

Nobody answered for a moment before Price clears his throat. "That uhm... Looks great, love but not for this occasion. I think we should get the halter one. You pick the color."

I nodded and went to the sales lady, leaving the men in awe at what they just saw. Ghost looked at Soap who was grinning as he held up his phone. Sneaky Scottish bastard managed to take pictures and Gaz immediately requested for a few copies, making Price chuckle.

Secured with the dark blue version of the halter dress and the same silver belt that Ghost picked, the team headed out of the boutique.

•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•

Ghost went back the next day, and bought the dress he picked and a veil himself,gazing at his new phone wallpaper of you in the very same dress. You never know when you might need it ;3

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charliemwrites · 4 months

Text

Mafia au with Price perspective

Content: Implied Violence

John, for the life of him, can’t believe he ever ran SpecGru without you.

It’s a hit to his pride to admit it, certainly. That an outsider has discovered a small conspiracy within his own organization less than three months into employment. That, apart from even that, he’s never been less scattered, having someone right by his side remembering details, appointments, bits of information.

Morning smells like Earl Grey and your perfume now. Steam mixing with whatever you’ve spritzed for the day, his own little aroma therapy. Revitalizing after however late the previous night dragged him out.

In general, you’re like a breath of fresh air. A smiley little charm of color and delicacy in his world of saturated shadows, blood and brutality.

Clean-cut dresses with patterned tights, soft-knit scarves. Lace accents and modest stilettos. Thin, sparkly jewelry and smart makeup. The scent of you drowns out the lingering burn of gunpowder; or maybe just transforms it into something heady.

John lingers on your hair. Smooth ponytails, tight coifs, intricate braids. Likes when it’s loose enough to brush you shoulders and neck, a little bounce to it as you toddle in and out of his office.

You’re gorgeous, he knows it like a gun in his hand or the stench of fear in the air. Has encountered (and indulged) in more than his share of stunning women. Women with beautiful smiles, and bright laughter, and sweet voices. Cunning women, too. Women who could outfox all but his best on any given day.

You have all of that in spades, though you’re not the first.

The difference, he thinks, is your sincerity. You’re never anything but honest with him. Even when you maybe shouldn’t be. Not that you share your opinion every time you have one, but if he asks for it, you’ll answer without pulling punches.

Respectful, always. Polite. But scalpels are elegant tools as dangerous as any dagger. You’re not cold by any means, but you’re made of steel. Precise and implacable in some ways. Have never hesitated too look him in the eye and cheerfully explain why he’s wrong.

That, he knows, is a rare commodity.

“I understand this is time sensitive Mister Graves, but raising your voice is not going to open Mister Price’s schedule.”

Your voice goes silky when you get like this. A finely draped, overly pleasant “no” in each word. A wall is still a wall no matter how finely it’s painted.

You’ve just gotten your nails done again, glossy wine red tap-tap-tapping over your customized keyboard. Whatever Philip is saying on the other end does not seem to be impressing you. Soap and Gaz are trying not to snicker. You shoot them an amused look.

“Well, he’s booked every morning for the next two weeks,” you continue.

John is not, in fact, booked every morning for the next two weeks. There are two mornings with two hours open and you’re serenely looking at them on your computer screen. He doesn’t correct you, interested to see how this plays out. You know he hates Philip and are gleefully taking advantage of that fact.

“Well, Mister Graves, a lot of people have time sensitive issues to bring to Mister Price,” you explain, a touch condescending now. “I’m afraid I can’t reschedule them just because you have… a trip to Glasgow, is it?”

You don’t sound impressed. Neither is John. You clear your throat, arch your eyebrows at him. Put up three fingers. He nods.

“I can schedule you in on the 3rd in the evening. Your assistant said you’ll be back by then.”

You blink, an almost smug curve to your lips at whatever is said. A pleasant shiver runs down John’s spine. Philip will just have gotten in then - a full day of travel after whatever business he’s been up to will put him at a disadvantage.

“Well, I’m afraid Mister Price’s next availability won’t be until the… 8th. So shall we schedule something for the 3rd? I can always call if he has a cancellation.”

A pause. Your eyes narrow into a mean little smile at nothing in particular. Practically glowing with satisfaction. Without your attention on him, he shifts a bit.

“Of course, Mister Graves,” you hum. “I can forward your people the details. Have a lovely day now.”

Soap and Gaz start laughing the moment you hand up. You huff at them in amusement, shaking your head, then turn to John.

“Was there anything you needed, sir?” You ask, syrupy sweet.

John snorts and finally approaches your desk, leaning his hip against the edge as he crosses his arms. You tilt your head to give him your full attention, a stray curl falling against your jaw.

“Since you seem to be on rampage,” he says, “I need you to get a reservation for Friday at Muse.”

You blink at him. “Muse? Sir, that’s… don’t they book that place out months in advance?”

He smirks. “Just use my name, luv. I’m sure you’ll have the rest under control.”

You don’t look convinced, but you slide your sticky pad over - light purple clouds, now. With a pink glitter pen.

“How many and what time, sir?”

“Six for eight o’clock.”

You hum as you scrawl it down, pretty round letters that shimmer under the office lights.

“Before you go,” you say as you set the sticky pad aside. “I have those inventory logs from the docks - as well as the incident report from security that evening.”

You pluck up a neat stack of papers, held together by a star-shaped paperclip. Already he can see pink highlighter on the first page, a little memo-note summarizing information for quick review at the top. Somewhere within, you’ve attached a pink tab to something.

“I’ve highlighted anything in the original shipment that wasn’t found in the inventory log,” you explain, tapping at one of them.

He hums, skims the summary, then starts rifling through the papers. Will never admit how much he appreciates the thoroughness, even if he’s comb through every detail himself just to be sure nothing has been missed.

“Oh, also,” you add, spinning the glitter pen between clever fingers, “I think we should maybe set up a camera near that back entrance to the warehouse.”

He pauses. The back entrance where they do the more gruesome aspects of “business.” Odd that you would suggest that.

“Why’s that?”

You hum. “Well, I’m no narc, but I heard from someone who works over there that one of the shipping guys smokes weed with his cousin in that area. Maybe someone saw them and realized that’s a good way in.”

You shrug, leaning back in your seat again. The computer dings, calling your attention. John shoots Soap a glance, who nods and quietly steps out. You don’t seem to notice, clicking your tongue at whatever you see.

“Nicely done, luv,” he says, voice warm in his chest. You beam at him, pleased as always when he recognizes your hard work. “I’ll call if I need anything else.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply.

Twenty minutes later, you tap lightly at the open door to his office.

“Got the reservation!” You announce, a funny little smile on your face. “They were so nice about it too. What are you, some kind of mafia boss?”

He chuckles at your joke, shaking his head.

How did he ever manage all this without you?

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #mafia au #mafia boss price #assistant reader

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