#mafia!kyle

[cordeliawhohung]

this is a super random question, but where do the mafia boys live? i keep on imagining that price lives in a penthouse, even though i think its more accurate for him to live in a (secluded?) mansion instead. for simon, i think he'd be more simple. for him, i keep on imagining that he lives in a comfy apartment, even though i think its more accurate for him to live in a (also secluded?) house. not too big, not too small

oooh! great question actually!

Price doesn't live anywhere fancy, actually. he lives in a upper/middle class secluded suburban area with a nice yard, but he's not pouring millions into the place type fancy (though he certainly has the money for it). he chose the house he lives in currently because of the nice office space, actually. think someplace cozy with dark neutral walls and wood floors and lots of lamps instead of overhead light, comfy chairs and couches for reading, things of that sort! no plants tho, he kills them no matter how hard he tries to keep them alive.

Simon lives in an apartment! again, nothing super fancy, just a simple flat. kitchen, living room, he was lucky enough to have an in unit washer actually, which is good because he HATES the laundry mat. it's very neat and tidy, he cleans pretty regularly, hates a messy/unclean house. trying to decide if he has a one or two bedroom, though. not sure what he would use the extra space for. he for sure has a hobby, maybe he'd use a second room for that. mans DEF works with his hands. not anything artsy but if he wasn't a butcher in this au he def would've been a welder or something ong.

Johnny lives probably the worst out of all of them, but that's alright because he leaves his stupid studio apartment as often as he can, so why spend money on a more expensive place? he's got a nice bed, constructed shelves to make little sections in the apartment, especially for his little tech corner. you can expect to see loads of little toys at his desk, like a rubik cube and other puzzle things like that. i feel like he lowkey loves those rgb lights like a proper gamer freak lmao. it's a little cluttered but not like gross messy or anything, more in a "wow there's so many various cables wrapped neatly on this desk i almost can't see the desk," way.

believe it or not, it's our lovely boy Kyle who gets the obnoxiously expensive and crazy nice penthouse. i'm talking like beautiful views, there's a fucking personal gym and other amenities in the building (not in the penthouse itself but he has access to it on the bottom floor type thing) and it's got crazy beautiful architecture. guess being the bastard son of one of the most influential politicians in the world has its perks. they'll give you anything to shut you up. but more on that later (:

#core responds #mafia!price #mafia!john #mafia!simon #mafia!ghost #mafia!soap #mafia!johnny #mafia!kyle #mafia!gaz #mafia!141

[bruciemilf]

AU where Thomas and Martha don't die, but Batman's still a thing!

Instead of Bruce becoming Batman, its Thomas. He's already a huge help to the city, so this nocturnal passion is for sport.

If it wasn't obvious enough, he's not the most stable guy. But he's a loving dad and exemplary husband, so it's mostly fine.

God forbid men have hobbies.

He specifically picked up a bat theme to hopefully cure Bruce of his fear! Just imagine that 6'5 error of nature cladded in black, claws with his costume cause he's sexy like that,

"See? I'm not scary at all!" But Bruce is already sobbing and hiding behind Alfred.

"Martha, you'll never guess who I saw on patrol tonight. Bruce's college roomate! The blonde one with the glasses and gay vibes. "

" Oliver?"

"Oliver who?"

" Queen?"

" Well! I think that fits you better, amore."

" Bruce's childhood friend? Known eachother since infancy? Came to you for tech?"

"Bruce had FRIENDS?"

Bruce, from the other room, " Her name is Harley! You paid her college tuition and killed her dad."

" I've never met her in my life, and i keep my kill list detailed.Anyway, I adopted her. Shes seeing that clown boy and I think his superpower is boring me to death."

The batkids still get taken in, of course. Bruce is already a full adult and outgrew his Robin costume. He just barges in with a feral Jason and Dick, " Look, Brucie! Papa's got brothers for you!"

But Bruce? Looks at these two snarling kids, kicking, thrashing, clawing, and takes them in his arms, " Babies. My babies."

" Uh... Come again,,-" But Thomas raised a spoiled BRAT, so Bruce definetly bites him and throws a tantrum until he agrees to pass full custody. Naturally, Alfred and Martha have no sympathy.

"But you're too young to be a dad!"

" I'm 27."

" Young. A fetus. Cousin Gomez's newborn is older than you." Bruce is already drawing the adoption papers. Fight him about it.

Naturally, instead of dating his rogues, Thomas parents them. Imagine you're Selina Kyle and Batman scolds you for getting caught by the cops, " You know better. Villain privileges REVOKED."

Mr Freeze? Thomas gets it. Do what you gotta do, King. You need some pocket money?

Khoa? Problematic son. Thomas adores him and brags about him to every family reunion. "Your daughter tried to poison you for inheritance? That's adorable, Agatha. Khoa kidnapped Alfred last week. Beat that."

Ivy? Thomas invites her to beer and game night and plays matchmaker with her and Harley.

Waylon is his favourite. Naturally, he's the only one adopted legally.

He fist fights Ra's for Talia's custody and she is desperately shoving Damian in his face. Trust her. You don't want to go through with it.

the image of Batman not being a broody, stoic vigilante and instead Gomez Addams with a cape makes me weep

#bruce later on becomes red hood but thats when martha has her punisher arc <333 #thomas wayne #bruce wayne #martha wayne #ik Thomas is flashpoint batman but blehhhhh #i like this more #dc #dc comics #batfamily #bruce is like that mafia princess from zootopia and thomas is the justice league dad #jason todd #dick grayson #harley quinn #selina kyle #batman rogues #rogues gallery #batman

[vnards]

Mafia!141...

Ghost sat in the back corner of the diner. It gave him the best overlook of the room he needed to scout the place out. The diner wasn’t anything fancy. Small mom and pops shop that still held on the ‘50s service style and appearance. But that wasn’t the real reason why Ghost is here.

The diner was on the edge of the city, a previously agreed upon location that the authorities don’t look at often when shady deals need to be made. The perfect place for a meeting.

The meeting wasn’t for a few more days, but Ghost had orders. And Ghost always follows orders.

It was moderately busy for lunch time on a random Tuesday, half the booths filled with couples or groups being served and workers buzzing about, a well-run machine. There wasn’t really anything for Ghost to note.

Except you.

A younger waitress, post-college age, fidgeting with the uniform’s apron when you’re not taking orders or delivering food. Mingling with the customers in your section, cracking smiles and laughs. Possibly to get a better tip. You moved like a current.

If Ghost wasn’t playing close attention, he would’ve mistaken you as a manager or even hostess. But from the way the cooks and other waiters had silently corrected you when you made a misstep occasionally, he could tell you were still learning. Pretty thing.

“How are you doing over here, sugar?” You came to check on him again, so diligent and attentive. So eager to speak to the boogeyman.

It’s been a while since someone approached Ghost with as much enthusiasm as you do. Maybe since Johnny. If you were scared, you hid it from him so well.  Ghost was dressed down, trying to blend in as much as his large frame would allow, with only a black face mask on and hoodie up, his cropped blond hair hidden under. “Could I get another refill, doll?”

A color grew on your cheeks, but you still gave a good effort to hide it from him, “Sure thing,” You picked up his beverage and headed back towards the kitchen. Ghost was unable to avoid watching you.

How you moved. How you smiled. How you laughed.

It made him want to know how you smell. How you taste. A hunger began to simmer in Ghost’s chest.

Ghost scolded himself for thinking about a waitress in a random diner. He should be paying attention to everything but you. He scanned the diner once more, taking note of how many exits were there, how many people were working at one time, how many parents and their kids ate here. Ghost was already visualizing the meeting and how it would go, even a backup plan if things went south.

Ghost’s fingers tapped on the table, the gears turning like a well-oiled machine. Like he’s done this a thousand times before. Because he has done this a thousand times before.

“Here you go!”

Ghost’s fingers stuttered...

More to come~

next part

Masterlist

#mafia!141 #mafia!au #cod #captain john price #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #poly 141 x reader #vnardshoard

[oceantornadoo]

my masterlist💖

mdni!

welcome to the feral things that come from my brain :) feel free to request a trope!

i use #tornadothoughts for all my drabbles and fics and #tornado speaks🙊 for random thoughts

do not repost my work without credit :)

all fics are f!reader unless specified

simon riley (smut):

the man next door (each post is a diff universe)

fluffy simon riley:

mafia au!simon riley (arranged marriage)

johnny mactavish

kyle garrick

enemies to lovers drabble

john price

tired of everyone but you

pad shopping

ghoap x reader

gazs perspective (drabble)

jealousy, jealousy

gender neutral fics (simon riley)

two lieutenants series (simon riley x f!reader)

ts lyrics and the 141

renegade (simon riley x reader)

ttpd headcanons (any 141 member)

#simon ghost riley #simon riley smut #mafia!141 #john soap mctavish x reader #simon riley wife #simon riley x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #tornadothoughts #simon riley x you #cod 141 #mafia au #ghost call of duty #john soap mactavish #neighbor!simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x you #john soap mactavish x reader #john price x female reader #captain price x reader #john price x you #price x reader #fluff #ghost x reader #soap x reader #captain john price #ex husband ghost #ghoap #ghost imagine #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader

[sadist1224]

Everyday life in the Mafia!AU

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part4

I just want a little bit of everyday life when I don't have to worry about kidnappings, bandits and showdowns.

When you come to the bar a few hours before your shift, and Mafia!Gaz "accidentally" comes to say hello to you and ask how you are doing.

Mafia!Soap, who drops by your place literally in a few minutes, just to take you to the nearest coffee shop, to drink coffee, because then you will be immersed in work again and you will not be up to them.

Mafia!Soap and Mafia!Gaz who buy you a big latte with salted caramel syrup, insisting that they pay for it.

Mafia!Soap and the Mafia!Gaz who chatter about everything incessantly, joke and have fun, which makes you feel warm and calm. This is exactly what you need before your shift at the bar.

Mafia!Soap who shamelessly flirts with you after every joke, but you still manage to keep a steady expression on your face. You just like the way he doesn't give up trying to win you over. But you also feel that your wall will crack soon.

And you still don't want to get involved in mafia business, but that's how Mafia!Gaz invites you to some kind of party, just so you can unwind and be with them. And those pleading puppy dog eyes Mafia!Soup, who is already figuring out where you could get a dress and how long it would be.

You jokingly say it's more like a date, and you're amused by how cheeks are Mafia!Gaz darkens with embarrassment, and Mafia!Soap the eyes open wide, as if they were caught red-handed.

You promise them you'll think about it, but only after work, because, well, why not, really?

#call of duty #mafia au #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #mafia #au #oc #x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap #soap cod #soap mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader

[celenawrites]

The House of the Rising Sun - I

Summary -

Running to the enemy territory, asking for help was foolish.

It was even more foolish of you to think that their help will not cost you anything.

Note -

This is a first draft with minimum/no edits.

Updates will be slow due to a multitude of reasons.

No Y/N.

Reader is female, for the most part.

Chapter Summary -

You make a deal.

word count - 4.8 k

warnings - slow-ish build up, violent descriptions, threats, sexism, cursing, etc.

AO3 version

God, you were stupid. 

You had been told so your entire life - by your parents for believing you will be the master of your own fate, writing your life the way you want it to be; by your peers for wishing something different because they couldn’t comprehend why you wanted to run away from such a lavish, fulfilling life; and by your ‘beloved’ for even thinking that you’d be anything more than a fever dream rendition of ‘50s  Stepford wife that he would occasionally bring out to galas and parties in tight dresses that showed off your bosom a bit too much, hoping to curry favors with like-minded bastards who leered at you with heady eyes and hands itching to cop a feel of you. 

You feel the shame that comes with making the wrong choice - you can feel your ears burn and your eyes sting with tears, can feel your tongue turn to lead and your mouth dry up as if it’s filled with cotton. You inhale deeply, and you feel your throat bob painfully as you greedily gulp in any amount of air you can get in the clammy warehouse. 

It’s either this or getting locked in a cage forever. 

You didn’t even think of making a getaway the moment those men decided to bind your hands tightly and covered your head with a sack, cutting off your connection from the outside world entirely as they abducted you, hoping to get high praise from their boss for such a pretty catch. You feel your spine creep up with goosebumps as their disgusting hands touch you and manhandle you, forcing you to lie down in what you assume to be the trunk of the car. The sack over your head does a good job at hindering your sight, making it impossible to note the car or its license plate.

You stay stuck, occasionally moving and bumping around in the claustrophobic space and you can only pray to God that you make it out of this ordeal alive. 

For what feels like hours, you let your body sway with the movement of the vehicle and feel the extra tyres dig into your ribs at every bump or pothole, helpless to do anything at all. Eventually, the car comes to a stop and you are grateful that the constant moving and the smell of petrol didn’t make you spill your guts out in the back of the car, the sack over your head promising nothing but a pitiful death by choking on your own vomit. 

The trunk is opened and you are pulled upright, and all you are thankful for is that you are out of that closed box of a space and you can finally breathe. You feel disgust at the sweat that coats you, but sigh out in relief as the soft breeze caresses your skin as it cools your body. You do not resist as you are forced to walk, hearing nothing but a few uncomprehensive murmur behind you as your ears buzz and your mind screams at you to RUN RUN RUN RUN RU-

You shove that line of thought somewhere back in your mind, somewhere unreachable because you know, you fucking know that if you even slightly move in a way that seems threatening, these guys will not hesitate to empty their guns into your body. 

They just need an excuse for it anyway. 

You have decided to not give them that. 

You feel the creaky metal doors slam shut behind you, the noise reverberating in your ears; your lack of sight heightening your other senses, making you undergo a sensory nightmare of sorts as you try your best to survive in the unknown territory. 

You come to a stop, and feel someone guide you with their hand over the small of your back - the touch nauseating you, flashes of unpleasant memories making you shiver in fear and rage, and it is almost enough for you to strangle the guy; if not for your bound hands and the threat of death imminent in the air. 

One of the goons takes it upon himself to grab your arm, hard enough to dig it into your skin - a promise full of bruises and malice. Then he guides you roughly a few steps forward, before pushing you down on a chair. He unties your hand, and you barely get a second of soothing your reddened wrists before he’s tying you to the arms of the wooden chair with ropes that dig into you. He does the same with your legs, and it’s not long until your body is bound to the chair you’re sitting on. The ropes are thick, and you resignedly accept your defeat when it’s due - knowing that you clearly don’t have the strength to break out of your binds. You can only hope that these people at least have the decency to hear you out before they discard your body down the river. 

You feel the gun press against your temple, the gunny sack over your head doing nothing to cushion the pressure on your head. You can only hope that the safety is on, or the guy with the gun is not too trigger happy. You don’t want to paint your brains out on the grimy floor anyway. 

It’s just a precautionary measure, you console yourself. 

You won’t get shot. Not yet. 

You are disoriented by your surroundings when your sack is pulled over your head, exposing you to the people around you. The few white lights dangling over you blind you, and the ropes are already chafing against your sweaty skin, and the white bodycon dress sticks to you, already dirtied by the grime and the dust you have encountered along the way. 

I must be a sight for sore eyes, you think sarcastically, blinking away the pain to take in the men standing before you. 

You have heard of them. Of course, you have. You do not stay a part of your family without knowing about the infamous 141. The elite of the elite in the dark, dirty business your family partakes in. People rarely see them, some even wish on shooting stars to get a meeting of a lifetime with the members of 141 - some of the finest, richest men in England’s mafia. Almost all of the sea routes belong to them, allowing them to easily smuggle in arms, drugs and more into the Queen’s dear country. Allies of 141 benefit from their profits, and are even offered protection. Relation to 141 meant only one thing for people - pure, absolute power over everything. 

Your father had once hoped to be a part of this organization. He had endlessly tried to impress them, wishing nothing more than a lick of the power they held in their scarred, steady hands - all of the lies, deceit and illusions failing him, as he ultimately couldn’t carve a place for himself in the group. This failure of his made him jaded, angry at the world and the rest of your family for this unfair transgression committed against him. Finally, he planned to use you as a pawn to expand his power, forging an alliance in marriage with an ally that has always served as a thorn in the side to the chagrin of 141. 

Enemy of my enemy…

You partly blame them for your sorry state, half-heartedly wishing that they would’ve entertained your mercurial father for just a little longer so you could elope with your friends and leave the country, never to return. However, the thought of that madman having the power to influence all of England always left a bad taste in your mouth. 

The men in front of you are the most powerful men in all of England. Possibly one of the most powerful men in the continent of Europe even. The four men are dressed to the nines, a stark contrast to the filthy warehouse you’re stuck in, and you cannot help but look up at them with aching eyes, staring at them in awe and reverence. 

The man with the skull mask draws your attention first, leaning against a table you missed to take note of earlier. He’s dressed in all black - a black coat over a white shirt that hugs his wide shoulders tightly, and you cannot miss the brown holster against his hip, his hands in the pockets of his black pants. You cannot deny that you’re intrigued about him and all that he hides behind that mask of his.  His eyes, looking like two brown dots from where you sit, size you up  - highly alert and ready to swiftly get rid of you, if it comes down to it. 

Your eyes shift a little to the right and you find yourself staring at a majestic man. He’s dressed in a three-piece, along with a well-groomed beard, and his dark hair is combed back, not a strand out of place. He’s old enough to be your daddy, but by God, he looks like someone who could ruin you. The men behind you bow down in reverence and you can only assume that he’s the ringleader of this circus show - a dangerous circus show where you’re most likely to lose your life. 

The man standing to his right seems to look closer to your age - dark, tall, slim with a pretty face and full lips. His curly hair seems to have a mind of its own, letting a coil or two loose on his face, which he quickly tucks behind his ears swiftly. What draws you in the most are his eyes - dark and mischievous, carrying a brightness in them that you can only recall in childhood photos and you almost feel envious as your own has dulled down over the years. 

And the man beside you speaks, “You alright?” and your concentration shifts to him. Your eyes widen a bit, surprised to not notice him before - with his accent and mohawk and kind eyes that crinkle a bit when he looks at you, his visage directly blessed by a Hellenistic deity whose name you have long forgotten. 

You drop your gaze to look at your lap, embarrassment creeping up on you like invasive ivies - you probably look out of place, with your white dress and the way you gaped at them probably gave them something to laugh about after they’re done getting rid of your body today. You do not reply just yet, your hammering heart making it hard to focus on them and the barrage of questions. 

You have been ill-prepared. 

You ran away on a whim, with nothing but the bare necessities packed up. You had not expected to make it this far, straight in the heart of  your mortal enemies’ lair. You had focused so much on leaving without a trace, that you had forgotten to cook up a half-baked story that could satiate the natural curiosity of the 141. 

They have been something out of a fairytale for you, a fable used to scare people into subservience. And yet, these godly men stand before you, grace your unworthy eyes to admire their visage until you’re ultimately slaughtered like a lamb for wandering too deep into their territory. 

You wait and in turn make the men around you wait for an answer - something, anything really; and with each second passing by, you cannot help but give into the panic that’s taking control of your frail body.  Your lungs burn, and no matter how deeply you breathe, you just cannot seem to soothe the ache within you. 

Maybe I’m having a heart attack, you think earnestly. If I die right this instant, I will not have to deal with my family. Or my betrothed. Or with 141. 

However, fate has often been cruel to you. 

The man with the mohawk notices your shortened breath, instantly alarmed at your worsening state. 

“Oi, Ghost. Pass me the bottle”, he asks, and through bleary eyes you notice him catch a flying plastic bottle in his hands. With gentle fingers, he grabs your chin and tilts your head up until your eyes meet his. His fingers rub gentle circles into your skin, raising goosebumps in their wake. He gently urges you, “Open ya mouth for me, hen. Drink up”.

Suddenly parched and unable to handle the multiple eyes on you, you silently comply as you tilt your head back and open your mouth. He gently presses the bottle to your lips, allowing you to take slow, sure sips from it. Some of it trickles down, wetting the neck of your dress but you can hardly care as you gently lean back as his fingers slowly play with your hair, sending pleasant tingles down your spine - almost enough to make you whimper in relief. 

After a while, when he deems it enough, he retracts the bottle from you and caps it, putting it down near the foot of the chair. You compose yourself, silently berating yourself for letting these men see you at such a low point - so weak and vulnerable. 

But no more of that. 

The small reprieve offered by the man standing nearby gave you enough time to compose yourself - enough time to cook up a story that will save you from showing all your cards on the table. You can only hope that by the time you’re finished with this ordeal and have gathered enough resources, you can finally make your getaway far away from here. 

God knows you’d kill for a vacation right about now. 

Your eyes meet his again, and he smiles down on you kindly, deciding this is a good time as any to finally introduce himself to you. 

“I’m Soap. Lassie, dae ye hev any idea aboot where ye’re?”

Weird name, but you nod your head nonetheless. You don’t know where exactly you have landed up, but you do know that you’re in their territory, with no allies to support you or protect you. 

The very thought of it terrifies you. 

“So, ye dae ken who 141 is?”, he asks again, and you nod your head in confirmation as you finally recognize his accent as somewhere from up north in Scotland. 

“Why are you here then?” a deep voice with a Manchester accent asks you, and your eyes flutter across the room until they land on the masked man again. The distance along with his mask makes it near impossible to gauge what he’s thinking, how he’s looking at you - but you can wager a solid guess. 

He’s probably looking at you with distrust, like you’re a skittering deer caught in headlights - about to run off to god knows where if given the chance. He’s thinking about how shady you are, how you need to be vetted before they even entertain you and your potential sob story or how he itches to shoot you in the head with the gun he has kept in his holster. 

Frankly enough, you don’t give two fucks about his thoughts. 

“You’re 141, and I have valuable information. Information that can help you gain access to parts of England you constantly fight over with other gangs”, you speak up, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear you. You are surprised that your voice doesn’t crack, your eyes don’t shy away from the heated look the skeleton-wearing man throws your way. 

The leader straightens up, asking you what you have been dying to hear ever since you stepped foot in London. 

Finally.  

“And what do you want from us for that?”

“Protection.”

It isn’t long till you are untied from the chair by Soap, finally rubbing your raw hands - cringing at how your wrists ache and your feet are no better, but you leave them be. You thank him for untying you, finally ‘free’ to walk on your own as you are escorted by him and by his masked companion to a black Mercedes-Benz 200. Soap is kind enough to open the door for you, letting you sit at the back of the car. He closes the door and goes around the vehicle, finally taking his seat as the driver. You look out the window, wondering where the other man would sit - beside Soap or beside you. 

Your query is answered when you hear the car door opposite to you slam shut, watching him warily as the hulk of a man climbs inside and adjusts himself, sitting carefully to not bump his head onto the roof of the Benz. The car hums to life as Soap finally inserts the key into the ignition, dabbling with the manual shaft and finally driving - enroute to a new, unknown destination. 

The skull-face (a nickname your brain supplied you with) looks at you pointedly, and you finally look back at him after what felt like a millennia of him burning holes into your skull. 

“What?” you snide, clearly with no energy or tact to be bashful around the man who is totally capable of breaking your bones with his bare hand. 

He nods, and it draws your attention to the little blindfold he’s held in his hands. 

You groan out, not ready to return to the shadows just yet. 

“Not again”, you almost whine out, turning around so your back faces him and you wait for his deft hands to cover your world with darkness again. 

“Gotta have to, love”, you hear Soap say as his steady hands steer the wheel around and work the manual shift to change gears, “Protocol says so. It’s just for newcomers, ain’t it, Ghost?”. 

The man behind you grumbles but refuses to grace his partner with a response. 

So he’s called Ghost. 

You grumble slightly before crossing your arms like a petulant child, but not before making a sarcastic quip. 

“If you’re going to get kinky with that blindfold on me, at least take me out to dinner first”. 

You let out a sigh as you feel the dark piece of cloth tighten around your eyes, and you can hear Soap guffaw out loud. 

“That’s a good one, lassie!”, he laughs, and you feel the car turn slightly as he drives on the road, feeling a few bumps along the way. 

Ghost scoffs a little at your little snide - it’s lighthearted and breathy, and it seems like you may have just won the lottery by winning his approval. 

It’s small but it’s a start. 

“And if you’re worried about dinner”, Ghost speaks, and you jump slightly at the sudden sound he makes.  

“If you survive the night, you might be able to get some after all”. 

After what seems like a drive of thirty minutes, the car finally comes to a stop and you’re glad for that. 

The silence had been comfortable, it gave you time to think and process all that has happened so far.  But you’re also eager to get the blindfold off your face and finally see where these men have ‘escorted’ you to. 

Feeling your anxiety, Ghost graciously takes off the piece of cloth over your eyes, and you blink dumbly, trying to get your bearings about you. He gets out of the car, before walking around it and opening your door for you. 

What a gentleman. 

You climb out of the vehicle, finally looking at what was in front of you. 

Despite being a mafia heiress and witnessing luxury of all levels, you look at the mansion in front of you with a reverence unmatched - unable to believe that this is where one of 141 possibly lives here, or operates from. 

The grandeur of this place is indescribable. The mansion is Victorian, and is surrounded by acres of grassland, laid with concrete routes that you’re currently walking on. There is a fountain across the main door of the mansion, and in the center of the water pool stands Aphrodite, her marble figure adding a touch of classicism to it. She looks serene, despite her residence being among the tumultuous water of a fountain. There are roses growing around the marble piece, surrounding the deity with color - almost as if these flowers have been planted as an offering to her. 

It is a lovely sight. You wish you could look at her forever. 

And yet you move onwards, leaving behind the goddess of love behind you, sneaking a final glance at her as the wooden door closes behind you. 

There’s an ache that settles in the middle of your chest as you follow the two men inside, mourning your past and yet awaiting the future ahead of you. 

The study room is majestic. 

Walls are covered with shelves filled with thick books. You can recognize some of the classics kept there, mainly Russian literature that talked of death and human suffering. There is a red loveseat to your left, with a small coffee table with a glass top. And to your right, you can find a small cabinet, locked and untouched, as it collects dust in the large room. 

You see the leader of 141, Jonathan M. Price, sitting in his leather chair, reading a file laid out on the oak table. He looks like he belongs here - regal and untouchable. And you almost feel out of place in your dirtied dress, and you’re certain that the sack over your head has messed up your hair now. 

The fact that he looks attractive as fuck, sitting and reading with his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing his strong arms,  does not help you. At all. 

You wait until he finally looks up and notices you standing between his men. He gives them a look, and they both leave you. You feel Soap gently pat your shoulder as he closes the door behind him, following his companion out. 

“So, why should I not throw you out for the police to find you?”

That’s the first thing he says to you, his eyes scrutinizing you as he gets up from his seat, walking until he’s at most half a dozen steps away from you. One of his hands picked up the glass of scotch on the table, sipping it with narrowed eyes. 

You gulp a little at the unspoken threat - at the hidden promise of delivering your body in pieces at the threshold of your childhood home, at the implication that if the next words that come out of your mouth doesn’t satisfy him, you won’t walk out of this room alive. 

“I know how to help you. I promise. The information I have is valuable”, you speak, feeling your chest swell with pride when you don’t stutter your words, when you don’t cower in fear in front of the dangerous mafia leader, when you don’t get on your knees and beg him to spare you. 

“And the price is what, protection? Do you think I’m daft?” he raises his voice, and now you cannot help but flinch a little. 

“Take a gamble, sir. It won’t hurt to try someone new for change”, you bargain with him, hoping that he’ll take the bait. You’d both win if he did. 

There’s silence in the air, and you take this as permission to present your case before your metaphorical judge, hoping to persuade him from not condemning you to death and striking his gavel down. 

“Just once. Give me a chance this one time. I won’t let you down, sir”, you almost beg, and you see his eyes waver - just a little bit, and that is enough for you to keep going. 

“I’ll tell you something that’ll help you out, and if I’m right, you give me a fair chance. Keep me here, safe and protected. And if I fool you….”, you feel your stomach drop as you finish:

“You are allowed to do whatever you wish with me”.

You wait now. 

He doesn’t speak for a few moments, and your agitation doesn’t help your restlessness. Your leg bounces in its place as you look at Mr. Price, unsure of what is going on inside that dangerous, beautiful brain of his. And when you finally open your mouth to say something, anything really - he beats you to it. 

“What’s your name, girl?”

Your brain struggles with the sudden interest in what you’re called, and you wait a beat too long to answer him with an alias(“Marie”, you call yourself and all Price does is look at you like he doesn’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth). That makes you look suspicious. Fuck. 

But you have been suspicious all up to now, you might as well keep up for now. 

Moreover, they’d get off your back when you prove yourself right. 

Or you’d buy yourself just enough time to run away again. 

You’ve been getting better at that now. 

After you tell him all that you can, making sure to keep the more sensitive information under wraps for now - for everyone’s sake really, you look at him as Price nods, gently rubbing his forehead and now he looks almost forlorn, the stress of running an illegal empire taking a toll on his body and soul. He looks older now, frailer somehow - and in this moment, you almost feel sorry for him. 

“Fine, I’ll entertain you for now”, he breathes out, and you almost find yourself crying from joy. 

You almost contemplate getting on your knees and bowing down to him to show your gratitude, but you do no such thing. Instead, you offer him a small smile and you don’t fail to notice how he drinks it all up like heady ambrosia. 

But his next words force you to stay on your guard:

“But if you do anything suspicious, make sure I don’t notice. ‘Cuz I’m not as forgiving as I look”. 

Price quickly dismisses you, now tired and in no mood to entertain his new guest, as he calls upon one of the men from the warehouse to show you ‘your room’. 

Kyle(That’s the name of the young, pretty man) silently escorts you to a room on the third floor of the house, and despite following your escort with sharp eyes as you take a note of everything that interests you or stands out, you still find it hard to memorize the layout of this place. 

He stands before a teak wood bifold door, and he opens the door for you to walk inside. Before he leaves you to your devices, he kindly informs you, “Dinner will be at 8. It won’t be hard to find the dining hall”. 

And then he’s gone. 

He has been apprehensive about your provisional arrangements; you had seen the look he sent to his leader when Price asked him to show you the room you’d be staying in. 

You know he doesn’t like it any more than you do, but you’re touched at the hospitality he’s extending towards you - a temporary white flag for the unstable truce you have established between yourself and 141. 

You take in the room with a white bed and white sheets, with sparse decoration and a cleanliness you can never find in someone’s room. 

So this is a guest room. 

You find your bag to be there, and you wonder if Price or Kyle asked someone to leave your belongings here. The bag looks untouched for the most part, and the tightness in your chest lightens a bit at that. 

You think about taking a bath and changing into the spare clothes you packed in the duffel bag in a hurry. You think about going out and exploring the place, thinking of all the secrets you can soak up into your being. 

But you’re so tired. 

The clock hanging on the wall tells you it’s a little past 6, and you have some time before dinner will be served. You think of your bruised body, and your sore wrists and the headache that’s blooming across your temples, about how hard it is to keep your eyes open and look around you. 

You look at the soft bed, and think how it won’t be too bad to rest for just a little. 

In the bed, under the soft covers, you think of everyone you left behind. Your power-hungry father, who is probably going off the walls, swearing to kill you with his own hands when he sees you next. Your ignorant little brother, who’s been sent to America to study business at Harvard. Your betrothed who has quite possibly become the butt of the joke overnight. 

You are scared of how he’s feeling, about what he must be planning for you, should you ever make the mistake of returning back to him. 

(You’d rather the 141 kill you and dump your body under the bridge, brutalized and scarred beyond recognition.)

And your poor mother, who will now deal with the repercussions of your actions. 

For her, you cry. 

fin.

NOTE -

*Reader doesn't use her real name, she uses an alias but it will be temporary and rare. (probably)

Also it was tougher for me to describe the places and furniture more than writing the overall plot, etc.

And I'm posting this late at night, so any errors are the responsibility of future Cel.

#call of duty #cod #cod:mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #john price #john price x reader #john price x you #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz x you #mafia au #cod angst #cod au #char.simon ghost riley #char.soap #char.price #char.gaz #house of the rising sun au

[honeypipin]

Merry Christmas Bankers!!

(I'm writing too many of these, i got borerd)

It's been getting close to the Christmas season, and whether you celebrate or not, many of your clients were just so insistent on their gifts to you! And well... who are you to say no to them?

The first with presents were mafia!price and and the rest of mafia!141.

You were ready for a deep analysis into their economy and their suspicious profits, but when you came over to their head office for a meeting with the team, you did not expect to be walking out with bags. You were quite shocked to be honest, the plan was not to have 4 handsome British men hand you hot drinks whilst discusing the amazing boost in their sales, not to mention being invited to England or Scotland for Christmas parties. With both mafia!Ghost and mafia!Soap so willing to have you there, even offering to let you sleep over at their houses back home (permanently please) , you were starting to consider it.

After Mafia!Gaz carrying your bags to your car (he won the rock paper scissors), a belly filled with the food and drinks they insisted on giving you, and a job well done in that meeting, it was a good day.

"You'll come over for Christmas, yeah?"

"Well I'm not too sure yet... depends on if I'm busy or not."

"What? You can't be working on the 23rd, can you?"

"I don't know, I might have a client again then, happened last year too."

"How about I be your client?"

"Are you trying to hire me for a Christmas party?"

"Anything to get you there."

He delighted on the smile that spread across your face, what kind of man was he if he couldn't make you happy? Stupid?

"I'll look forward to it."

You waved goodbye and drove off, and all Gaz could think about were the calls he was about to make.

#mafia!au #mafia au #141 x reader #tf 141 #cod 141 #mafia!141 #kyle gaz garrick #price modern warfare #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #soap cod #john soap mactavish #gaz garrick #gaz cod #john price #captain price

[harmleikurdraws]

I’m not a huge BrucexSelina fan, but even I have to say they are fun to draw and look good together.

#batman #catwoman #cd universe #gotham #art #fan art #selina kyle #bruce wayne #matches malone #mafia au #harmleikur #bruce x selina

[cordeliawhohung]

been working on the introductory one shot for mafia!Gaz. here's a little glimpse of it if you guys were interested!

When Kyle was a child, his father would point out his mother to him on the TV. She was an easy woman to spot with her perfectly pressed suit and kind eyes and smile. When she gave speeches, she spoke with such eloquence that even in his young age Kyle understood that she was a woman who held insurmountable power. Yet, despite her influence as the most popular and well liked politician in all of England, she couldn’t shine bright enough to blind the nation from the stain that was her son; a bastard child born out of infidelity. It’s why he only ever saw his mother and heard her voice through a screen as a child. 

He wondered what she would think if she caught sight of him in that strip club.

#mafia!kyle #mafia!gaz #mafia!141 #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #f!reader

[flipphone01st]

I COMPLETELY FORGOT ABOUT THE MAFIA 141 FIC I WAS WRITING! but I had so much fun writing the first part and y'alls feedback was nice so I suppose until part two is finished I'll give y'all a little sneak peek.

This part is gonna focus on gaz 🧢

WARNING: he may be a little creepy and ooc but trust me I'm cooking

...you freeze at the contact, your breath caught in your throat, unsure of just what the hell is going on. then you slowly look up at who you were pressed up against and see Kyle's dark brown eyes staring right down at you...his lips curled up in a small, amused smile.

"you leavin already?"

You take a step back, almost tripping over your own feet "u-uh..yeah...Price said I could.."

"mm.." he hums, glancing at the clock on the wall before looking back down at you "you walking home?" He asks

Your eyes narrow suspiciously and you hesitate to answer, his questions where setting off red flags in your brain "..yeah."

He raises an eyebrow at your reaction, but doesn't say anything, leaning his back against the wall. "you live far from here?" He asks. You nervously fiddle with a loose piece of thread, dangling from your shirt. "...not that far...like 35 minutes or so.." you internally cringe, why are you telling him this?! You don't know him that well, he's your coworker... kinda..not your friend! One side told you to just leave, but the other said maybe he was just trying to make conversation and didn't realize how alarming some of his questions were

He hums, and lets out a soft chuckle, "so...you're gonna walk all that way on your own?" he glanced at the clock again "in the middle of the night?" He asks, tilting his head to the side slightly.

"...yep."

#cod mw2 #task force 141 #mafia 141 #gaz x reader #kyle garrick #mw2 gaz #call of duty #cod mwii #cod mw x reader #gaz x gn!reader #captain price x reader #ghost x reader #john mactavish x reader

[vnards]

MafiaAU pt 2

“Here you go!”

Ghost’s fingers stuttered.

“Are you waiting for someone?” Your attention stirred something in him. Your fingers began playing with your apron again. “I couldn’t help but notice you’ve been watching the door since you’ve sat down.”

Ghost didn’t respond immediately, not used to having conversations with strangers as most thought he was too scary to even look at, “No. Pretty day outside.” He stated simply. He pulled his mask up to take a sip of coffee you had made for him.

You nod, almost eagerly, “I love spring. Sunny days are my favorite.” You look out the window to mourn your longing for outside. Ghost used the moment to soak in every inch of you. “Would you like a piece of pie? Fresh out the oven.” Your offer was so genuine, so polite.

He nods, “Please,” and you scamper back off behind the counter, a renewed pep. Ghost isn’t one for pie, prefers cake, but you asked so nicely. How could he refuse? Ghost’s phone dinged with a message. An all call from Price.

A shame.

You came back with the piece of pie, the light on your face dimmed as you see him place money on the table, “You're leaving?” you nearly sounded disappointed. It tugged on a string in his heart a bit.

“Enjoy it for me, doll.” The offer seemed to settle your sadness for something else.

“Oh, I-I can't. I'm still on the clock.”

“Sit.” The suggestion came out more of a command then anything. But you listened so well. And without question. “Eat my pie for me, darling.” He settle back into his booth, eyes scanning the room behind you for any potential threat. Ghost’s eyes lifted to the waiting at the till, over watching your interaction with him. His eyes held a suspicion he’s seen from other men before. Other men who want to dig his claws in a pretty thing like you.

The weight of the gun hidden against his chest whispers to him. Convincing him of a threat. His fingers being to tap again.

“What's your name?” the lithe in your voice breaking through the whispers. He gives you his full attention.

“Simon.” A name only those close to him use.

You smile and tell him your name. He repeats it, enjoying the feeling of it on his tongue. “I believe everyone has a story,” you eat his pie, just like he requested, “I think I'd like to know your story.”

Ghost’s fingers still. “I’m not a story you’d want to read, doll.”

You look up at him with those eyes of yours, a gentleness he knows he would ruin. The blood on his hands too stained to ever wash off.

He knows what he should do. He should walk away, let you go. Let you not be smeared by his meer presence. But Ghost was always a selfish man. Ghost tried to ignore the lick of fire at the thought of ruining you.

You slide a napkin across the table, a series of numbers written on it, your cheeks . Ghost cant help but smirk behind the mask. “Well, if you ever change your mind…”

The buzzing of his cell phone caught the table’s attention. Ghost grumbled, knowing only one person who would call him. You seem to know it’s a dismissal as well, seeming to slump further in the booth, the air of rejection about you. Ghost almost felt bad, but he hoped a few extra bills would make up for it.

The call continued to ring, Ghost was in no hurry to pick it up. You begin to protest at the extra cash on the table, but Ghost simply didn’t want to hear it. “Stay out of trouble, doll.”

He grabs the napkin as he goes.

previous part masterlist

#cod mw2 #captain john price #simon ghost riley #john price #kyle gaz garrick #mafia!141 #mafia!au #poly 141 #poly 141 x reader

[lighthousepigeons]

Nikolai: Mum, Dad, Brandon is coming to dinner tonight. And please, do not say anything embarrassing.

[Later]

Brandon: This food is lovely, Mr and Mrs Hunter.

Rai: Aw, thank you.

Kyle: Thank you, and please call me Kyle.

Brandon: Oh, alright call me Bran then.

Kyle: Oh thank fuck, I've heard enough of Lotus Flower for a lifetime.

Rai:

Brandon:

Mia and Maya:

Nikolai:

Kyle: Do you know how often Nikolai used to talk about you-

Nikolai: DAD.

#rinakent #brandon king #nikolai sokolov #legacy of gods #rai sokolov #kyle hunter #royaleliteseries #books #bookaddict #bookmemes #tumblrpost #incorrect quotes #dark romance #tumblr funny #aidenking #mia sokolov #landonking #mafia romance

[shyjusticewarrior]

DC Comics Incorrect Quotes Pt 5

[In a nightclub]

Woman, to Selina: Back off, skank!

Ivy, a little drunk: Hey! No one calls my skank a skank!

Ivy: I'm hurting her-

Selina, holding her back: No no no-

Harley: Red, remember, aggression is not the answer. Clearly this woman is having some serious trust issues... Or maybe she's just a raging bitch!

-----------------------------------------

Harley: If a beautiful women disagrees with me I will immediately change my view. I have no principles.

Ivy: No you won't.

Harley: That is correct I won't.

-----------------------------------------

Harley: Since bat wings are just skin stretched between elongated finger bones, bats fly through the power of jazz hands.

Selina: I didn't know I needed this until it arrived.

#dc #gotham city sirens #selina kyle #catwoman #poison ivy #dr pamela isley #harley quinn #dr harleen quinzel #lgbtq+ #canon queer characters #wlw characters #sapphic characters #lucifer netflix #funny tweets #tumblr text post #shitpost #be gay do crimes #alphabet mafia #batman #harlivy #harley x ivy #ships #ship dynamics #character dynamics #cw alchohol #cw cursing #dc incorrect quotes #dc comics

[sadist1224]

A little Mafia!Price 18+

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part4 Everyday life

It's a little dirty towards the end!

Mafia!Price is the underground king of this city. Invisible, but alert and intimidating.

Mafia!Price, who takes care of his home, even if his ways are immoral and illegal. He had long ago realized that the road to hell was paved with good intentions, and his city, sinking and rotting from corruption, lies and violence, could only be saved by an iron and merciless grip.

Mafia!Price, who built his empire on the ruins of former mafia gangs.

Mafia!Price, who is covered in blood not to the elbows, but to the top of his head, to bring balance to his house.

Mafia!Price, who, despite all his strength, power and authority, has weaknesses. His named family are his boys, who went through all the bloody hell after him and never complained.

Mafia!Price, who is devoted to all of them, as well as they are to him.

Mafia!Price, who loves his boys, all of them, without exception, in a variety of ways.

Mafia!Price, who didn't even think about expanding his family until fate brought them together with you.

Mafia!Price, who watched with disbelief and curiosity as his Gas and Soap swirled around you, trying to get your attention. Oh, it's been so long since he's seen his boys in love.

Mafia!Price, who was surprised to find out that even a Ghost is attracted to you for some reason.

Mafia!Price, whom even the most influential and proud married women of the city will beg to warm his bed while their husbands work for him and for him, but ironically, the only woman he wants to see in his bed, between his boys, under them and on them is an ordinary barmaid who is not afraid to say everything she thinks to a man in person, even if he is the head of one of the most influential gangs in the city.

Mafia!Price, who has a private office with a gorgeous sturdy oak desk. And you will obviously find yourself in this room more than once. And for more than one reason.

Mafia!Price, who does not like to be distracted from work, especially from paperwork, as his stern, handsome face always says. But he doesn't really mind at all if it's you. Only you can break into his office with impunity without knocking, opening the door almost from your feet to definitely attract his attention.

Mafia!Price, who purposely does not take his head off the papers to annoy you, although in fact all his attention is focused on you, your disgruntled face and disheveled appearance.

Mafia!Price, who likes the way the edges of your shirt are slightly peeking out from under your belt, and your bangs are uneven, but so beautiful.

And while you're telling him in an angry manner that one of his small fry was seen again in the neutral zone extorting money from civilians!..

Mafia!Price, in his thoughts, is already pinning you to the table, wrapping his big hands around your hips, imagining what kind of underwear you're wearing today and how he will tear it off with his hands or teeth. He would then definitely buy you a new black lace, with thin ribbons wrapping around your waist and hips, even better if you chose it together.

Mafia!Price, who has already imagined a dozen ways to occupy your mouth instead of this useless conversation. He can shut you up with a rough kiss, pulling your hair back, opening your neck for love bites and hickeys. Or vice versa, to lure you with gentle kisses along the jaw, pressing you by the waist so close to his body that you feel warm and calm.

Mafia!Price, who gets goosebumps from your confused face and the sight of reddened lips.

Mafia!Price, who is thinking about how long it will take Gaz, Sope and Ghost to get to his office, and how much he will have time to do with you while they are walking.

Mafia!Price you're still here, still telling him off for not fulfilling the contract. And he doesn't like the way you present it. He's a man of his word, it's part of his reputation.

He just will never tell you that your "unexpected" appearances dilute his routine, and how much he likes it.

Mafia!Price, who pretends to sigh wearily and nervously, breaking out of his thoughts to give up on you and, reluctantly, drive you away from here. Oh no, you don't have to know how much you influence him.

Hell, he doesn't even know whether to nail these idiots for not following orders or throw in a bonus for another meeting with you. But he will have to deal with it if he wants his fantasies to come true.

#call of duty #mafia au #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost #mafia #john price #john price cod #au #oc #x reader #price x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap #soap cod #soap mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader

[celenawrites]

The House of the Rising Sun (141 x F!Reader)

Pairing - Task Force 141 x F!Reader

Content Warning - Graphic Depictions of Violence, Misogyny, Torture, etc. (to be updated)

Summary -

Running to the enemy territory, asking for help was foolish. It was even more foolish of you to think that their help will not cost you anything.

Chapter 1

You make a deal.

Chapter 2

TBA - August 2023

Chapter 3

TBA

Chapter 4

TBA

Chapter 5

TBA

Chapter 6

TBA

Chapter 7

TBA

Chapter 8

TBA

Chapter 9

TBA

Chapter 10

TBA

Divider by @/firefly-graphics

#call of duty #cod #cod:mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x you #captain john price x reader #john price x you #john price x reader #john soap mctavish x you #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish x you #task force 141 #141 x reader #mafia au #house of the rising sun au #char.simon ghost riley #char.gaz #char.price #char.soap #char.marie #💌.masterlist

[green-lanterns-c0ck]

"accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss" JohnKyle

John's day is going bad. His car broke down in the middle of nowhere, Ohio, his mother is in the hospital, and if he doesn't get to his meeting with his rich and eccentric potential client on time, he won't get the job, and if he doesn't get the job, he won't have the money to pay for either her medical bills or the car repair.

There's no trains, taxis, or airports in walking distance from nowhere, Ohio, and John has not slept in about three days. All in all, his day is going bad, and he's very stressed and taking the random unlocked car with the keys in the ignition made sense in the moment, okay?

It's not like he plans on keeping it! He just needs to get to the airport and then he'll leave it behind and even put a bit of change on the seat to pay for the gas. This won't hold up in any court, but it made sense in John's head when he decided to do it, and now it's too late to back out, he's already two hours in. So all in all, John's day is going so incredibly badly it'd be hard pressed to get worse.

And that's when the guy sleeping in the footspace of the back seats wakes up.

#john: why are you in my car???? #kyle: why are YOU driving MY car???? #the guy mafia boss kyle told to keep an eye on the car while kyle “took care of important business” in the back: *holding a box of donuts - #- and a cup of coffee* Oh shit where's my boss and my bosses car? #johnkyle #mafia BOSS kyle #upgrade from mafia princess kyle #though I did think about making it “john and kyle accidentally kidnap kyle's mafia boss uncledad” #but I thought this fit the established trope better. #ohio is empty right? #corn? #green lantern #asks #kiseiakhun #my wrtitng