Tf 141 X Reader - Blog Posts

Damn that shit was close, but the people have spoken another Nikto thought it is

Writing ideas

Writing ideas

Part two of the Lavender Marriage au! Considered adding smut to this but I chickened out lmao if the ending is abrupt it’s because of that 🙂‍↕️

The four men are fuming.

Since witnessing the lip-lock battle, they’ve been stewing in barely-contained anger. Every time they see you- on your porch in one of those sweet sundresses, humming to yourself as you water the flower boxes or hand them freshly-baked cookies- they’re consumed by a burning desire to tell you the “truth” about your cheating husband. But the ring on your finger, and your seemingly cheerful demeanor, stop them every time.

Still, they’re restless. It’s wrong to let you live in ignorance like this. But also, it’s not their business even if they want it- even if they want you. The thought of ruining your cozy life, despite your husband’s unfaithfulness, isn’t an easy one to swallow.

It becomes easier to think of admitting it all to you with each passing day, though.

“He’s walking around like he’s done nothing wrong! The bastard. How does she not see it?” Kyle grumbles, gesturing wildly with his tea mug. He grits his teeth, watching your husband saunter inside the house without offering to help you. He just puts down a plate of steak Kyle knows is too fucking cooked. Heathen. Bastard. Ughhh.

“She’s either blind or loyal to a fault,” Johnny agrees, sprawled out on the couch, looking far more despondent than usual. “Breaks ma bloody heart, lads. She’s makin’ us lemonade an’ cookies, an’ he’s aff canoodlin’ wiith some bloke under her roof.”

Simon grunts, his eyes narrowing as he joins Kyle’s side. “What kind of man cheats on her? She’s…” He trails off, unwilling to finish the sentence, but everyone knows what he means: She’s perfect.

Meanwhile, John leans back in his chair, puffing thoughtfully on a cigar. He’s been unusually quiet, though it’s clear he’s just as agitated, fist clenching on his lap. Finally, he speaks, his tone commanding.

“We wait until he leaves,” he says, much to the others’ dismay. “We don’t meddle now. If she finds out on her own, we’ll be there for her. Until then, we keep our mouths shut.”

The others grumble, but they nod in agreement. For now.

You, meanwhile, are oblivious to the internal warfare raging next door. Your days are filled with your usual routine of pretending to be the dutiful wife, gossiping with the neighborhood ladies, sweetly cooing about your hardworking husband, and pretending you don’t know they will gosspi about you after you leave. On the way, you also deliver a basket of homemade muffins to your handsome neighbors.

Such good men; they didn’t even yet know they were your little kitchen rats to taste-test everything you make for the annual baking contest. This year, that bitch Beatrice will not win and you swore it.

“Oh, these look incredible,” Johnny says when you hand over the basket. He flashes you a cheeky grin, and you can’t help but smile back, cheeks warm. “Y’know, if yer husband does not appreciate all this, I might just have ta steal ye away, lass.”

You laugh, waving off the comment as a joke, but the other three men go rigid. “Not the time, mate.” Kyle mutters, elbowing Johnny, though you really don’t notice. Their house is coming along so nicely and so fast; the perks of having handy men as its owners, you suppose.

Later that day, while you’re trimming the hedges of your precious little garden , you spot Simon working on their roof. You catch him staring at you- not that you blame him, you are wearing your one of cutest skirt and top- and you give him a small wave. He almost falls off the roof even if he does wave back, so you decide to just focus on the damned hedges and hopefully avoid any more incidents.

They’re so distracted by your lovely self that they almost forget their rage toward your husband. Almost. Because just as Price and Johnny are helping you carry bags of groceries back to your house, your husband- traitorous bastard- walks out of the house all patient and whistling.

“Be back soon, honey! You know how long my business trips take.” your husband calls over his shoulder, giving you a quick wink before he hops into a car and drives off.

Unbelievable.

The tension is palpable. John glares. Johnny looks like he’s seconds from sprinting after the car. Simon mutters, “Unbelievable,” under his breath from where he and Kyle are watching from the window.

“Oh dear,” you sigh, though on the inside you are very happy. You know your husband’s boyfriend has a nice surprise picked for him- you helped get it, after all- and now you have the house all to yourself again. Perfect.

You turn to John, batting your lashes up at him and it is as if all his anger melts away. “Be my guests this evening, John? I’d be terribly lonely, all by myself in this big house.”

John really, truly, fucking hates your husband for doing this to a precious, lovely thing like you. But at least it means they’ll be the ones in your company.

“Alright, doll,” he nods, fond as he watches the grin stretch across your face. “Let me just go tell the muppets, then we’ll come by and help.”

“There’s no need-“

“I insist, sweetheart.”

That evening, as promised, the four of them come by to “keep you company” and help. You’re in your element, flitting around the kitchen in an apron as you serve drinks and chatter away, oblivious to the tension radiating from the group. You are practically glowing; your pretty flowers were complimented and the food looks so good you can’t wait to post it on your instagram.

Simon leans against the counter, arms crossed, staring daggers into the walls- into the portraits of you and your husband. Kyle is poking at one of the cookies you made like it’s done something to offend him, his mind adrift. Johnny’s chopping away at vegetables, muttering under his breath and wishing it was something else under his knife. And John? He’s nursing his whiskey like it’s the only thing keeping him sane. It might as well be. You talk so nicely about your husband and what he’s customized for you in the kitchen, still so unaware of the truth.

John contemplates just telling you right then and there, but then it happens.

The front door swings open, and in strolls your husband, laughing loudly with none other than his boyfriend- the one the group saw kissing. They’re holding hands, both grinning like idiots.

“Sorry we’re back so soon!” your husband calls out, completely unbothered by the fact that your house is now hosting four very large, very angry military men. “I forgot my wallet-”

The rest of his sentence dies in his throat when he notices the four men staring at him, expressions ranging from pure disbelief to murderous rage. His boyfriend freezes too, glancing nervously between you and the men like he’s walked into a firing squad.

“What the bloody hell is this?” Johnny practically shouts, pointing between the two men with the knife. “You’ve got the audacity to bring him here? Here?”

Kyle crushes the cookie when he slams his fist on the table, standing abruptly. “Under her roof? After all she’s done for you? Again?”

Simon doesn’t say a word because he truly doesn’t need to- he’s just staring, fists clenched, practically vibrating with barely-contained fury.

John finally speaks, his voice low and dangerous, pulling your surprised self against his side protectively. “You’ve got some confessing to do.”

Your husband just… blinks, then glances at you. “Wait, you didn’t tell them?”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I didn’t think it would come up like this.”

“Tell us what?” John demands, his tone sharp. He is still glaring at your husband and the boyfriend

You wave your hand dismissively, like this is the most normal thing in the world with a soft sigh. “Oh, we’re not really married for love, John. It’s just for the benefits- y’know, keeping his parents off his back and mine off mine.”

The room falls silent. Dead silent.

“What?” Simon finally growls, his voice low and dangerous. All this time…

Your husband grins sheepishly, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “Yeah, I’m gay. This is my boyfriend. He’s great, isn’t he?” He says, kissing his boyfriend’s cheek.

Johnny looks like he’s just been hit with the frying pan the vegetables he’d been chopping was meant to go in. “Yer what?”

Kyle stares at you, wide-eyed. “You knew? This whole time?”

You shrug, popping a cookie into your mouth. Ohh, Beatrice should count her fucking days. “Of course I knew. We planned the whole thing together. It’s not that complicated, really.”

Simon mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse.

“Anyways, we do have places to be,” your husband sighs. “I’ll just get my wallet and leave you all be to your date.” When he returns with his wallet a few minutes later, he kisses your forehead. “Bye, love. I snuck some of the cookies too- Beatrice is absolutely not winning this year, trust me.” And then he leaves at last.

John exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You’re married but it’s just… out of necessity, and you’ve just been… pretending to love him?”

“Exactly!” you say brightly, clapping your hands together. “See? Not so hard to understand.”

The four men just stand there, utterly gobsmacked.

“You mean to tell me,” Johnny starts, pointing an accusatory finger at you after placing the knife down. “that we’ve been stewin’ for weeks over a cheatin’ husband that doesn’t even exist?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” you reply with a giggle, pouring a drink. Your eyes widen then. “But you cannot tell anyone here, in this shitty town, about this!”

“We won’t, love, promise.” Kyle groans, slumping back into his chair. “I need a bloody drink.” And then he perks up when you slide him the drink you just made. “…fucking lifesaver you are, love. Thank you.”

Simon just shakes his head, muttering, “Unbelievable.” under his breath.

John sighs, downing the rest of his whiskey in one go. “You’re going to be the death of us, doll.”

You grin, completely unfazed. “Oh, come on, boys. It’s not that bad.”

The four of them exchange a look- one of disbelief, exasperation, and maybe just a hint of relief. Because as much as they’re reeling from the truth, one thing’s clear: you’re technically single. And that, at least, is something they can work with.

Chubby reader x monster!141…. Chubby reader where you are at all-time-low after your ex cheated on you with the woman you had always been insecure of (she was everything you were not), so now you are just done. Done with him, with her, with your terrible work that forced you to come in even while sick, done with life.

So you go to a bar, and intend to fully drink yourself and all your sorrows away. You don’t even care enough to ask any friends to accompany you- they knew. They fucking knew. Calling them friends anymore is just stupid- and you don’t care enough to look around at anyone; you know you aren’t anyone’s preference either.

When a man, big and burly, curling horns and two big ass wings (maybe one of those dragon shifters? You know harpies have feathers, but the rest of your brain is too muddled) sits down next to you, you just ignore him and continue nursing your drink, trying your best to bite back the tears in your eyes.

“That’s enough now, love,” he croons, and much to your confusion, he takes the glass away from you. His voice is rough and rumbling, like thunder. Too hazy, too drunk, you don’t even care enough to get angry at him. No, your eyes fill with tears instead. “No, no, calm down. Let’s get you out of here, alright, little love?”

Another man joins your other side, just as big and burly but shorter than the dragon man who is making you tear up by holding your drink, your source of solace tonight, hostage in his hand. This one is a werewolf, his ears flicking in your direction much like his grin and his tail eagerly thumping to and fro against your chair.

“Sweet lass,” he croons, your teary eyes flicking towards him. You can see his hands clench in the air. Why, why, why- you just wanted to drink away. They are both so handsome, such a shame they clearly don’t like you and are just bothering you for the sake of bothering you, a fat woman in a miserable corner. “Enough tears and enough alcohol, aye, hen? Yer aff yer heid!”

His words are so strange, your tears momentarily pause. “What…?” You wonder outloud, shivering when you feel a warm breath across your neck, warming your skin. The dragon. His hand settles on your lower back, nudging you to get off the chair with them, and you feel like crying again. He probably can feel all the fat there, how horrible-

“Careful there, little love.” Dragon steadies you with two hands when you get dizzy, and with weak hands you try to swat at him, try to move away, but the werewolf is at your other side and keeping you pressed between them.

“S’op… stop callin’ me that,” you mumble. The tears roll down then. “Not- not funny, not at all-“

Two other hands on your back, a tail thumping against the back of your thighs, you are still led outside even as you babble about everything. Your size, your ex, the one your ex cheated, your work, your ex-

You want your damn drink back.

For their part, Price and Johnny didn’t think coming out for a drink tonight would lead to finding their last soulmate. The second they had entered the dinky bar, John had expected to need to puff out a deep, smoky breath to keep his nose clean from all the overwhelming smells and Johnny had prepared to to keep his nose happily pressed into John’s skin.

They hadn’t expected to smell you, something like the smell of stepping into a warm home after spending time out in winter, something like watching soft, golden sunlight stream into the nest room on a morning they spend sleeping in with Kyle and Simon. Like soulmate, like the last link of John’s hoarde and Johnny’s pack, and he has no doubt that you are Kyle’s nest and Simon’s. Simply his. A part of him just as you are a part of them.

Driven so wholly by instincts, seeing you drunk and crying pushing them even more into said instincts, they easily you herd along with them, back to their home. All explanations, everything else can wait until tomorrow. You are so soft to the touch, all tender and squishy, they already think you so perfect. In the back of the car, it doesn’t take seconds before you are dozing off and dead to the world, already so trusting.

By tomorrow morning, Simon would be easily able to track down where you live and get all your items. And also find that shitty ex of yours. John hasn’t yet decided if he wants to thank or beat him.

Watching the way Johnny holds you in his lap from the rearview mirror while he drives, hands squeezing your lovehandles with a low groan, mumbling about how much he already adores you, soft bonnie hen, all theirs- John decides he doesn’t give a single fuck about your ex at the moment. He needs to hold you between his arms and wings, in the comfort of his nest.

Fuck, he might end up breaking more than just a few speed limits.

NAVIGATION

ABOUT ME

ETC

Hey hey first things first ! On here I would like to be referred to a Beau! I’m a fanfic writer for a few fandoms in which you can find on my masterlist as well!

Down Below the cut is my MasterList to the things I write! So far there’s only COD stuff cause majority of my friends enjoy that 😅

I do want to put a trigger warning on here! And I will also put trigger warnings on the writing themselves! I tend to write a lot of angst and smut because I’m very bad at coming up with full fledged out plots sometimes but aha! Oh well—

MasterList

Call of Duty

- John Price

LOVERS CREEK ; click here !

- Simon Ghost Riley

- Kyle Gaz Garrick

- Johnny Soap MacTavish

MORE TO COME..

Ask box is open!

Okay I got some headcanons of Soap and Civilian Reader in the wips 👁👁 and i plan to finish tonight or tmr ???

I'm desperate at this point

I'm looking for a Task force 141 with Medic!Reader Fic

I think it was Called something like team bonding but I remember the plot was Basically Reader is About to interview with Price and The Rest Accidentally kidnap them thinking they were Price as they were trying to prank him

Reader Gets put in a Car handcuffed and Manages to Escape and run into the Forest but Trips and Sprains their ankle

The Boys realized they're not Price and Bring them back to base and Reader Becomes their Medic

I'm not Great at Describing it but It's my favorite fic

If you could help that would be great <3

Hello everybody! I am sorry for the lack of activity on my page. I have been going through some medical problems since December. I’m doing much better compared to before. If you have any requests please send them in!

Upcoming:

The lie detector!-TF141 x Reader💕

You and the boys go out for a couple drinks after a successful mission. Soap decides to pull out the old dusty lie detector to find some juicy secrets!

Moving in-Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x Reader💞

You and Kyle have been dating for a year and a handful of months, now your packing up boxes and moving in with your boyfriend!

Your home- Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish x Reader💗

Johnny comes home stressed trying to forget about the horrors he’s seen after being deployed. He needs you to help him realize that he’s home, that he’s not Seargant John Mactavish right now but your Johnny.

The 141 helping you study for finals?

Fluff. Boys being Boys.

Johnny is looking over your previous tests with a pout. "D'you even need to learn all this shit? Dn't seem useful at all." He looked over your study guide, then back at the rest paper he was holding. "Oh. Add this 'ere line of mess. Looks important."

Simon took the paper from him and eyes the section he pointed to. "It's already written in the study guide. Stop buggin 'em Johnny." Simon walks up to you and sets down your water bottle with some ice and fresh water inside. "Drink at least half of that before bed."

You smiled and gave a soft 'yes sir'.

Kyle scoots over to your side. "Okay. I found that answer for the question on number 7." He shows you the answer on his phone and you read over it.

"Ohh, okay okay that makes sense." You smiled at him and began typing it into your growing study guide. "Thank you Kyle."

Kyle beams and looks over at Johnny while secretly sticking him the middle finger. Johnny points threateningly at Kyle but he couldn't help the smirk on his lips.

Price walked over, setting down a bowl of some of your favorite fruits. "Alright sweetheart. You've got an hour left. Then it's off to bed. Sleep is more important than cramming in information. Need an alert mind for those tests." He ruffled your hair as he passed you behind the couch.

"Alright. I'll stop adding to my list and just...study I guess." You pursed your lips and looked over your screen a few times.

The four men sit quietly as you read over your paper, but Johnny was slowly reaching for the fruits. Simon reached over and slapped his hand. "Leave it."

The Scottish man was hissing in agitation. "Fine! Jeez..."

Kyle had an arm slung behind you on the couch as he looked over your study guide with you. "I think you've got this next exam in the bag."

Price was sitting in a recliner, opening his tablet to play a game on it. "No doubt about it. But also if you want us to leave you to study in silence, we can do that."

You looked up at all four of them and gave a quick smile. "Nah. I like having you guys here." You looked back down at the screen and began reading over the beginning again.

You're gonna do great on your finals.

(You're gonna do great on your finals!!)

Pairing: Poly 141 x Reaper! Forensics Pathologist! Female reader

masterlist — part two

Note: Only the reader's hair colour is defined. Everything else is up to you. Also the third image is what I image you wearing in this fic.

“Confused is all. As to why you of all people are at my doorstep. Don’t you pups know what death looks like? Or do you prefer to experience it yourself?” you raised an eyebrow at their interference. Your long black onyx nails tapping the back of your clipboard.

A reaper right in front of their face. Disguised as a Forensics Pathologist, a mortician, a keeper of the dead.

John Price, the stern-faced leader of Task Force 141, took a step back, eyeing the woman with a mix of wariness and curiosity. “We've seen plenty of it,” he replied, his British accent thick and commanding. “But we're not here for a lecture on mortality, Doc.”

“Pity. You look like you need one. Several. Of. Them. Perhaps then you will promptly understand how important my work is.”

Your hair looked like molten lava, the layers of charcoal, auburn, and copper framing your sharp face, which was devoid of any make-up except for the crimson lipstick that stood out against the starkness of your teeth.

“Do you think you scare me scotsman? I know more about life than you lived in a year.”

Your eyes bore into Soap, holding his gaze as if challenging him to dare.

“Shoot me foolish man, go on, do it, see what kind of 'damage' you won't be able to do.”

Because no one can kill death. And they will all come to her eventually.

Death is the end of everything.

Divider Credit: @cafekitsune

He feels like he's died and went to heaven.

Let's set the stage. You, his amazing, spectacular, beautiful girlfriend, are not a very physical person. Don't get him wrong, you are affectionate and you like touching him very much, but you don't do it often. You show your love in other ways, you cook for him, you make his favorite foods all the time, you search about his interests so you can have conversations with him about it, you know what's on his mind and you give him space when he needs it. You know him better than he knows himself.

So when you do touch him, it's all the more special. you kiss him on the cheek and forehead, you give him small hugs, ones that don't last very long and don't involve that much contact, you hold his hand when you feel he needs support, and you touch him on the arms and back when you feel like he needs reassurance. Something about having grown up in a non physical household.

More importantly you don't initiate sex, on your normal days that is. He has been always the more physical of the two of you, a surprise to some, given his disposition, but he is the only one that initiates it. That is except for one instance in time.

"Please, please, please, fuck me." You whisper, grinding and rubbing yourself all over him.

You came for him when he was sitting on the couch, watching a show that he can't even remember and then you started your little ritual. You would ask him what is he doing, then you sit on the other end of the couch, then you start inching your way closer to him and you start touching him absentmindedly, and finally you go to the main event, and you plop your pretty self in his lap and when he asks what are you doing, you shut him up with a kiss so ferocious that it takes his breath away. And you start pawing at him, to every piece of his body that you can reach, he starts doing the mental math in his head and it clicks, it's the blessed day. Your ovulation day.

The day that you don't really care about your inhibitions about physical touch and you just want to maul him. For three days up to a week you would be on him like glue. In public you would stick yourself to his side, at home you would jump him every chance you could, not even to have sex, just make out and be closer to him. He would take his fill of you and more, you would wake up and you would kiss him till he can't breathe, you would fuck him till he sees sound and hears colors, and most importantly, you would have long cuddle sessions. God forbids that he wear no shirt around you at that time, you would start biting him. That's another thing about you, you start looking at him like you genuinely want to eat him, and he sometimes feels nervous when you start kissing his neck, but that is what makes it so hot to him.

"Please, I want to feel you, I want you to fuck me."your sweet voice jerks his attention back to you, to the amazing goddess that is perched on his lap. The way that you look, with your hair framing your face and your sleep clothes, the ones that had him audibly groaning at the sight of them, leaving nothing to the imagination. You grind yourself on his cock, nestled up filling in his sweat pants. He feels like a young god because of the way that you desire him. And that makes it all the more special.

So yes. He feels like he has died and went to heaven.