st4rgrl4l1f3

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Alejandro Vargas would do ANYTHING for his children.

You want this for dinner? Of course Mi querida. (My dear.)

New clothes? McDonald’s? A new toy? Don’t worry, dad’s got it.

You ask him for $20 and he gives you his whole wallet.

“No, no. Don’t worry Bebé. I’ll make the money back eventually.” He winks as he gives you his black card, smiling. “Hey, hey! Before you leave come give me a hug. Be safe out there.”

He helps you with math, science, English, everything you need. Bullies at school??? Not on his watch. Teaches you how to throw a real good punch. Do they even know who their dad is?

Movie nights, where you guys are spending atleast $40 on snacks. Chocolate, candy, popcorn, hot chocolate…Oh, and that blanket. Looks comfy.

Don’t wanna go to school? Mental health day? Illness? That’s okay. He’ll take care of you.

Breakups? Bad days? He’s taking you shopping. A whole new wardrobe. Genuine jewels in your bracelets and necklaces, only the best for you. New shoes, makeup, skincare, you name it!

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Squealing like a teenage girl rn

John Price

[st4rgrl4l1f3]

ALEJANDRO VARGAS HAS A SLEEVE TATTOO!!! Nobody can convince me otherwise!

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I honestly feel like Gaz has so many hidden talents he just remembers from when he was younger. Like in third grade he realized he could write with both hands. Or in seventh when he found his passion in cross country running and made it to state finals many times. Junior year when he took a class for sewing and now he helps Ghost when his mask gets torn up, when John has a rip in his shirt, etc etc.

I have a headcannon that Gaz knows French (I don’t know if he actually does, probably not)

Like, he just learned French in high school, and he keeps practicing and even does Duolingo, but he never uses it

The 141 (except, like, Price) doesn’t know he can speak French until there’s some guy that only knows French that they can’t understand and all of a sudden Gaz is speaking French

[st4rgrl4l1f3]

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, who would write to you whilst on long, dragged out missions.

Dear Y/n,

Hi honey, I just wanted to write you so you knew I was okay. I know this mission lasted longer than expected, I’m sorry. I miss you so much. Once I get back home we’ll do something special together. I’ll take you out to the nicest restaurant, we can go shopping, anything you want. I love you and I can’t wait to come back home to you, dear.

-Your love, Kyle

—————

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley who’s very first love was you. He loved you so dearly, so much so it hurt when he wasn’t able to see you every day. Whilst on missions, he’s thinking of when he’ll get home, hopefully in the morning when you wake up. He has your whole schedule memorized. He’s thinking of you whilst he eats, thinking of the foods you like, don’t like, and he thinks of you at the gym, he knows you’d like the view, but he knows more importantly that you love seeing himself better himself.

—————

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, who, in his spare time, teaches you how to defend yourself.

He teaches you how to use a handgun if he’s ever not there to help (he always will be, cmon now), he teaches you some simple hand to hand, and he teaches you what to do if you’re being choked, kidnapped, grabbed, the list goes on.

He can’t stand seeing his lovely girl, too good for this world, defenseless and open for the world to take advantage of. Nobody is hurting you on his watch.

—————

John Price, who pampers you as if it was his job. He does it every chance he gets. He loves watching your face light up, the cute praises making you all giddy. The back massages that makes you just melt. The blanket he lays on your body when you’re too tired to get up and get one.

“It’s okay. You tried your best, love.”

“Figured you’d like that honey.”

“Don’t forget to eat, baby.”

—————

Alejandro Vargas, who is an absolute hopeless romantic to you. Slow dancing at the dead of night, roses every month, shopping sprees, new rings, necklaces, you name it. Every Sunday you two go out for a fancy dinner, his suit ironed and your dress bought the second he saw how it hugged your body. He will get on his knees, kiss your hand and he will look at you as if you were made of marble, there’s nothing more that he wants.

[st4rgrl4l1f3]

Guys stop writing amazing COD smut!! I cannot be giggling at my phone for two hours!! I am in too deep!!!

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Gaz never misses and I love that Yall see that!!! 🤍 @gardenthatneversleeps

I have this silly thought bouncing around my brain about a one night stand with one of the 141 (soap is the current hyperfixation). You're gone before he wakes up, but you leave him a note with a review of his dick game as a joke. Just a lil "4/5 stars. nice hands and ate pussy like a god. talked too much and fuckass haircut though"

I think he'd get a kick out of it, probably keep it in his wallet. Track you down and be sure to get a 5 star rating next time.

[st4rgrl4l1f3]

I had a dream about this!!

Prof!Alejandro Vargas that you’ve had a crush on for a few weeks, ever since the new year started. He had this deep, smooth voice that flooded your ears so nicely. Vargas is dressed in a long sleeved turtleneck, black (baggy-ish) jeans. Always seemed a little strict whilst teaching- though one night when you’re out with a friend, you see him and Rudy. You didn’t know who Rudy was, but you did know that your professor immediately went over to see you with a smile once he spotted you. Your friend, who ushered you to sit down with him, persuaded Rudy to sit down with her. Vargas asked you about how you were, his eyes looking into yours, with his big hands intertwined with each other. End of the night, he drove you home.

“I’ll see you on Monday, Miel.” (I’ll see you on Monday, honey.)

“Okay, professor!” You beamed as you rushed to your front door, ecstatic about what happened.

You sat texting the same friend who was with you, and she herself took a liking to Rudy. Wasn’t it perfect? You then emailed Alejandro, thanking him for his kindness.

His response back was short and sweet, at the end of the email was a phone number. His personal phone number.

“if you ever need anything, call me.”

[st4rgrl4l1f3]

Ahhh I love how they write Gaz!!! 🥹💕💕

why do you hate me?

tf141 men reacting to their spoiled gf saying “why do you hate me?” when she isn’t getting enough attention.

warnings -> 18+, f!reader, dom + sub dynamics, brat taming, allusions of impact play [spanking], petnames.

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

“excuse me?”

john’s eyebrows raise almost comically high. if it wasn’t for the stern glare taking over his features, you’d be giggling by now. instead you stay standing in front of him, shuffling on your feet with the same big pout you murmured your dumb question through. you despise making him upset with you—

at the same time, though… you feel those little sparks in your tummy when he pushes himself back from his desk and pats his lap. beckoning you to come sit on those strong thighs so he can sweet talk some sense to you. your feet can’t move fast enough, shuffling in your soft socks against the carpet. the rough denim of his jeans rubs against your own uncovered thighs as you shuffle in his lap.

“don’t ya think you’re being a silly girl?” it’s a simple question, but one you’re not exactly prepared for nonetheless.

your eyes meet his and there’s no way you can possibly shy away from his gaze. so you nod dumbly, and john’s chest rumbles with an approving hum. a strong hand cradles the back of your head, coaxing you to relax against his chest so he can put an end to this bratty streak you have in you rearing it’s ugly head.

SIMON GHOST RILEY

“what the fuck are y’on about?”

“just forget it, simon.” you bite back, turning on your heel to march away from him.

you hear his heavy sigh and it’s only a matter of seconds before the pair of big hands he has squeezes your waist, pulling you back into him until he’s able to growl right over the shell of your ear. you turn your head, tilting it upwards and meeting his fury filled eyes. it takes everything in you not to grin wildly and piss him off more than you already have— especially when you can practically feel the soreness his fingers will leave behind in your sides already.

“dumb pet,” he grits out, “could never hate you, not even when you act like this…”

at those words, you press a gentle kiss to his masked lips. and you know for a fact he’s rolling his eyes, tired of your theatrical tendencies and outbursts, but that doesn’t stop him from nudging your nose with his own. from pulling you closer and snorting out a breathy laugh.

“you’re still gonna fuckin’ get it later, y’know that right?”

JOHNNY SOAP MACTAVISH

“how dare ye?”

you know— you just know— that you’ve really fucked up this time. why would you say such a thing? why would you be such a nasty girl to the man who does everything for you? sure, he didn’t have his eyes on you for a bit— bless him, he just wanted to decompress after some training. and here you come, stomping over to him like a proper fusspot.

in a second, you’re tugged into his lap by your wrist. you clumsily fall on top of him but johnny is quick to readjust you, to make sure you’re getting a good look at his disappointed face.

“do ye even know what you’re saying?” he speaks lowly, doesn’t care how much your bottom lip wobbles under his harsh tone, “because i really don’t think ye do.”

“johnny, i’m sorry— i really—” you attempt blubbering out. however he presses his thick index finger against your pout, shushing you in an instant.

“fucked up again, bonnie.” he tsks.

maybe he’s right. you don’t know what you’re saying. you know better; you know what he likes to be called when you two find yourselves in situations just like this one, when you need to be put in your place. that’s why you don’t resist when he guides you to lay over his lap tummy down…

KYLE GAZ GARRICK

“princess, come on…”

kyle begins, treading carefully around your huffing form. strong arms loop around you from behind, humming softly when you melt right into him despite your bratty demeanor. you can feel him smile against the side of your warm face, while his scent and warmth invades your senses, calming you down immediately.

“you know that’s the farthest from the truth,” he whispers, kissing your cheek with an obnoxious smooching sound tacked on to each one. it prompts you to giggle and kyle laughs right along with you when he sees how much your nose scrunches up with happiness.

“there’s my sweet girl!”

he squeezes his arms around you, ignoring you when you shamefully apologize for being so ridiculous… because he knows deep down in his heart he’d let you get away with murder. so he shushes you with more kisses and murmurs about just how much he loves you, and plans on doing the same thing between your pretty thighs later on.

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Alejandro who would watch you sway to music as you washed the dishes, humming the lyrics, focused on the task at hand. He’d come up behind you, placing his hands on your hips. It was almost like his hands were meant to be there; snug on either side of you, warmth radiating off his body as he smiled softly, swaying to the music with you.

“No te importa que me una a vosotros, ¿verdad?” (You don’t mind if I join you, do you?) He’d whisper softly in your ear, his penetrating, deep voice filling your left ear.

“I don’t mind at all.”

“Good.”

You’d eventually reach the last dish to clean, Alejandro’s forehead on your shoulder, still swaying softly with you. He’d take in your scent; the smell of the laundry detergent lingering on your clothing, your signature perfume you put on every day, the natural smell of your body. He loved it, and he loved you.

You turned around, looking into his eyes. Copper, sage, and sweet, golden honey. They weren’t just brown; they were earthy, a deep chocolate that would linger on your tongue, that you’d smell in a different room, the bitterness and sweet aftertaste so, so charming.

He took your hand, his smile deepens with affection. You dance around your kitchen, spinning, small steps in sync with his, your eyes going from his hair, inky, straight strands falling onto his forehead. To his lips, twisted into a sweet smile, his white teeth glistening under the light.

“Te quiero, my dear.” (I love you, my dear.)

“Yo también te quiero, Alejandro.” (I love you too, Alejandro.)

—————

John Price who came home and saw his pretty fiancée cleaning the living room, blankets nearly finished in the dryer, candles lit, the big 75’ TV off, floor vacuumed without a trace of a crumb. You looked up at him, whom was watching you with a smile on his face, arms crossed and his icy, gunmetal blue eyes. John took off his hat, setting it down beside him. Short, chestnut brown hair a bit disheveled from his hat.

“I see you’ve been workin hard. Thank you, hon.” His voice was hoarse, but sincere.

You give him a smile, eyes tired, cheeks flushed from the lifting and moving you did. The dryer beeps downstairs in the basement, your face relaxing. “I’m gonna go get the blankets.”

He nods, saying nothing else. John opened your pantry, lined with canned goods, heads, and sweets. He was looking for something specific, though deciding on a few select candies. Ones that were rich with chocolate, strong flavors that would satisfy your long day of cleaning. He pops a bag of popcorn, turning on your favorite movie on the big TV you paid for, sitting on the couch you’ve had for years that has never failed to comfort you.

The soft patting of your feet up the stairs makes his smile deepen. He pours the popcorn into a glass bowl, sitting on the couch and waiting for you, snacks in hand.

“The blankets are so warm, it’ll be really nice..” You look at the set up he’s got, walking a bit slower. You smile deeply—

“Figured you’d like this after you cleaned the whole house, yeah?”

It was a small gesture, but it was enough for your heart to be filled with joy and love. The warm, soft gray blanket you had just pulled out of the dryer covered the both of you, a strong, long arm coming out to pull you in closer. As you watched your movie, John watched you in his arms. Smiling, calm, and happy. And it made it all worth it, over and over again. His soon-to-be wife, cuddled up in his arms, and nobody was going to hurt you there.

—————

Gaz has always found himself to be a little more quiet than the rest. It’s not something that is a big deal, or that he’s insecure about, he’s just always noticed that whilst his friends, teammates, and acquaintances were talking, laughing and sipping on their drinks a mile a minute, he was sitting or standing, watching a tv, maybe on his phone, every once in a while someone would strike up a conversation, though it never lasted all that long.

When he met you, yes he was still reserved, obviously opening up a bit more. But his love language was small, kind gestures like a candy you had mentioned you liked, being on the counter after his grocery run, or a new pair of tights after you’d accidentally hooked yours on a thorn.

He’d notice small things about you, like how your hair would grow and grow, booking you an appointment to a hairdresser to get a trim. He’d notice the fact that you haven’t eaten today, making you a nice little lunch.

So when he made you upset on a particularly bad day, he apologized, which was enough for you. After work, all you wanted to do was shower and watch the new season of your favorite show.

But his apology wasn’t enough for him. That same night, he booked a luxury spa. Did he care it was $168? Not one bit. He woke you up with flowers on your bedside, pretty daisies that were a pale yellow in the middle, milky, soft white petals protruding from the center. He bought you that one game you’ve been wanting. You want it? He’s buying it. He let you pick out clothes, carry your bags, drive you around and take you for a restaurant of your choosing.

“Kyle, why are you doing this?” You asked, a sincere smile on your face.

“I didn’t feel okay even after you accepted my apology, so I wanted to make you happy in another way.”

“Kyle, you didn’t have to—“

“Maybe you think that, but it’s what I felt I had to do.”

—————

Soap who quite literally comes home and is surprised to see you. Every day.

You’re his wife? You, an absolute gem of a human being, a strong, independent, intelligent, fucking gorgeous person, is with him?! You could’ve done SO much better.

He brags about his pretty wife, pride written all over his body. Smiling, chest puffed out, arms crossed.

“She’s jus’ perfect. Never met anyone like ‘er. Patches me up an’ scolds me, but she’s beautiful while doin’ it. She’s damn near perfect.”

He’d ramble on and on about you, never stopping, even if he’s talking to himself now.

Women hitting on him whilst he’s out? Nope. He’s opening his phone up, showing you off to the girl that attempted to flirt with him.

“Yeah, that’s her. She’s perfect.”

“Oh um, sorry I didn’t know you had a girlfr—“

“Actually, she’s my wife.” He was quick to cut the woman off, the phrase “she’s my wife” bouncing off his head and into his heart, making him all giddy inside.

Coming home to you was the best. He’d wrap his arms around you in the tightest hug,

“Aaah! I missed ya so much, you know that?!” He’d smoosh his face into you, breathing you in and then going to kiss your cheek, down to your pretty lips.

—————

Ghost who would let you take care of him, loving when you scolded him for not doing it himself.

Ghost has never really thought of himself, throwing away all of his life at an attempt to help something that wasn’t guaranteed to do any good.

Coming home to you after a long day, he’s covered in grime. Bloody mask and uniform, mud drying and hardening onto his clothes.

“Evenin, hon.” He’d say, gruff voice greeting you.

You turned back to look at him, only for your eyes to widen. “Shower, now.”

“That’s an understandable reaction.” He’d quickly respond, but to his surprise, you followed him in.

“What’re you doin?” He’d question.

You took off his mask, inky, sticky, eyeblack smeared on it. Taking a damp towel, you wiped it off, giving you easier access to where exactly his wounds were.

“You have got to be more careful out there, Ghost! Look at you, you are covered in blood.”

“It ain’t mine.”

“Still, look at your face.” You cupped his cheeks, his face cold and your hands warming them. “You are covered in bruises and cuts.”

He stayed silent, letting you pat at the wounds before putting a thick, white ointment on that stung a bit, then covering him in bandages.

“There. Now you promise me to be more careful! And take a shower…Promise me that too.”

“I promise, honey.” He said, looking down at you with deep amber eyes.

“Good.”

He watches you walk out of the bathroom, a soft smile creeping onto his lips. You were adorable like that, scolding him to no end. He chuckled a bit.

“Oh man. I’m in deep now.”

—————

[st4rgrl4l1f3]

There was literally no excuse for the way Simon and Soap were the stupidest fucking people together. And only together. They are skillful soldiers, they always complete their mission. But holy fuck, take them out? Put them on a damn leash. It’s like two dogs trying to look at everything whilst on a walk.

Nothing could prepare Gaz for the way Price genuinely says shit like “whoopsies” “We’re in a bit of a jam, huh?” “Uh oh”. Kinda like if he was talking to a little kid. Gaz didn’t know why he used those kinds of words, here’s this special forces captain whom he thought was stone cold; apparently that only applies on the battlefield.

Alejandro’s mind was completely empty, watching Ghost, Soap and Gaz attempt to learn more Spanish. Soap couldn’t roll his R’s, Gaz sounded American whilst attempting to say a word that had been troubling him. It was Ferrocarril. Railroad. Ghost thought that turning Spanish subtitles on his show would help. It didn’t. “Joder, sois estúpidos de cojones..” (Holy shit, you guys are stupid as fuck..).

If Soap is mad, he won’t hesitate to scream. Yell. Only if it’s in the comfort of his home. Captain Price once came over and thought Soap was being attacked. No. He burned his breakfast. Running into the kitchen, gun in hand, he watches Soap pop more toast into the toaster. “Hope my eggs won’t get cold.” “Fuckin hell, Soap. I thought you were dying.” “No, I burned my toast.” “Fucks sake.”

Ghost genuinely cannot go a week without wreaking havoc. Scaring the shit out of people. He likes scaring the new young soldiers, ones who think they’re all that because they got into the military. That is, until Ghost comes up behind them, a heavy hand on their shoulder. “You ever been on the battlefield?” Said in a voice deeper than he’d normally go, but it was funny as shit to him, watching the soldiers jump and then looking straight into their eyes, watching as they attempt to politely disengage in the conversation.

Alejandro frequently plays video games, hard ones that he gets up on his high horse talking about “How hard can a Videojuego be?” (How hard can a video game be?” …Until he is red with rage, veins popping out of his forehead, hands shaking and squeezing the controller so tight that Rudy thought it was going to break. “No es tan grave, Alejandro ..” (It’s not that serious, Alejandro..” he says, getting more and more quiet as he spoke. Alejandro looked back at him, throwing the controller into the wall (denting it.) “You try then, Pendejo.” He says in a dark, creepy ass voice.

The teams genuine reaction when Gaz pulls out a book on the helicopter and starts reading is fucking insane. “Reading?” Ghost comments, wide eyed and sounding astonished. “I mean, the flight will be long. Might as well” He says, shrugging. “You’ve gotta be kiddin’, Gaz.” Soap scans Gaz’s eyes, looking for any humor in them. None. He was completely serious?? “Well, nothin wrong with a bit of reading, yeah boys?” Captain Price reads the room—“..You guys seriously don’t read? Ever?” “Why the fuck would we read-“ they both chirp in unison.

Captain Price is either over dressed or under dressed for the occasion. Why are you wearing a suit at Christmas dinner…And why are you wearing shorts and a Metallica shirt to church…Sometimes Gaz helps him dress so that he won’t look out of place. Has to take him out shopping since he’s rarely in normal clothes, I mean he’s got his gear and a civilian outfit (STRICTLY a civilian outfit.), maybe four shirts, a few pairs of shorts, three pairs of jeans, and a pair of sweatpants. Which wasn’t exactly bad, but for church that just will not do, Captain!!!

Soap has no social anxiety. He’s loud when he laughs, talking with random men at the bar, telling his story to some guy named Daniel who he just met 13 minutes ago. Which for the record, Daniel thinks Soap is fucking awesome. Holy shit dude, you’re a special op? Yeah that’s not something you see everyday. Him and Daniel now meet at the bar a few times per week when Soap is given the green light to do so.

[st4rgrl4l1f3]

I love you. Thank you 🥰🙏 @bi-writes

ghost doesn't think he hears you correctly, not at first. there's a ringing that's still in his ears from the bullet he nearly ate earlier. (cw: dubcon, 18+)

"wot?"

"can you please please please--pretend to be my boyfriend--just for one minute--!"

"heyyy, sunshine," a nasty little voice sings. you spin around, cowering by the bar, just as someone a little too drunk and a little too big comes into your space. you scoot away from him, but he's coming closer, leaning over you, and ghost tilts his head to the side as he watches the way you flinch at the stink of his breath.

ghost fits into the space at your back quite easily. your back arches a little as his big hand finds the bend of your waist, and you squeak a little when he forces you back, pressing your ass against his pelvis as he tucks you into his shadow.

"who's this fuckin' nitwit?" ghost mutters, clicking his tongue under his mask. you swallow, blinking up at the man, shrugging as you try and press yourself a little closer against his heat.

"i-i dunno," you whisper, and it's shaky, afraid. "h-he won't stop...following me."

"tha' right?" ghost hums, and you're so afraid of the man in front of you that you don't really register the way ghost's big hand is slipping lower, over the curve of your denim jeans and squeezing the fat of your ass that fills the palm of his hand all too nicely. "ya botherin' 'er?"

the man swallows a little, hiccuping. he stands up straighter, a little more sober, and he just shrugs as he takes another swig of his beer.

"just...she's so pretty, ya know--agh!"

ghost reaches over and grips him by the fat of his neck. he squeezes hard, drawing him closer, would be spitting in his face if he wasn't wearing the balaclava over his head.

"'f i see ya around 'er again, i'll paint the fuckin' walls with y'r teeth, mate, yeah? now get outta my fuckin' sight before i do it just for fun."

when ghost lets him go, he struggles to breathe, holding onto the bar and coughing as he scrambles to put distance between you. you shake a little, turning towards the bar, picking up what you assume is his drink and sipping it slowly to try and calm the nerves. you close your eyes gently, shaking your head.

"thank you," you say softly. "i-i couldn't shake him off, he was following me everywhere, i..." you turn your head and meet his eyes, smiling up at him. "that was really nice of you. i'm...sorry if i caused you any trouble."

ghost tilts his head to the side, fitting himself back behind you. he reaches over, putting both arms on either side of you and leaning over one shoulder, breathing hot against your neck.

"wot you mean?" he murmurs, and you blink, not understanding.

"for pretending to..." you laugh a little, looking into his eyes. "just...it was nice of you to do that. to pretend like that, i--"

"dunno wot y'r talkin' about," ghost chuckles, and you seize when he reaches down between you, cupping you between the legs as he palms at your pussy over your jeans. you keen a little, leaning into his touch, nasty brute pressing two fingers against where you're most sensitive and forcing your ass back against him, where he's hard, chubbed up since he first saw you, leaking into his cargos.

"i-i--" your eyes are wide, but you don't pull away, don't push him back--why am i not running? why can't i leave? what's happening to me--

"i wasn't pretending. were you?"

[st4rgrl4l1f3]

Cherries

A hurricane

Warmth

Okay!

people in fanfiction are so good at identifying v specific smells. I literally struggle to identify vanilla when I’m sniffing a candle labelled “VANILLA” how are these kids getting woodsmoke, rain, mint, and a whiff of byronic despair from a fuckin tshirt

[st4rgrl4l1f3]

Things I think the 141 CANNOT stand (sfw!!)

—————

Soap cannot fucking stand scary games. You’ll catch him playing lots of video games, but the ones that are horror? Who would wanna do that??? If you convince him to play a horror game, you will have it be in there. You step out of the room? He’s pausing the game and going with you, behind you of course. He doesn’t know what’s in the house. He was trained to kill men; not strange entities that emerged from the pits of Hell. Can barely get through the first few minutes without suspecting he’s getting jumpscared around every corner. What’s funny?? How about you play the game? Or he’ll send you out to the field with a gun and five enemy soldiers coming at you?

—————

Price can’t stand “nowadays music.” What the fuck is that stuff??? When you put on the radio to your favorite music, ten seconds in he turns down the radio with a “wait, wait, wait, wait. What the hell is this??” “Umm, music??” “….No. This isn’t real music, it’s nowadays music.” “What’re you saying?” “I’m sayin it sucks. Puts on Vietnam war era music”

—————

Gaz cannot stand bratty children. Now listen here you little shit— behave for your poor mother. Why are you crying??? Stop that. Visibly annoyed. Grew up in a household that you were grateful to have a meal prepared for you and you better count the grains of salt on said meal and thank your mother for each and everyone of them. He learned his lesson once, never talking back to his mom again. Love your mama.

—————

Ghost cannot stand diet influencers. Fuck you. I’m eating what I want. Fasting? I’m eating two pounds of straight meat. No seasoning. No cooking. Just. Meat. Eat two meals per day? He’s eating four just to spite them (They don’t know who he is). Nobody is telling Ghost what to do. Nobody.

—————

Alejandro cannot stand people who talk slowly. He’s quick with his words, snappy, feisty little fiery boy. Speak up, speak fast, or else he’s not listening. Veins quite literally pop out of his forehead and neck, listening to someone whose brain is the size of a walnut. “Por el amor de Dios, pendejo…” (for fucks sake, idiot..) “…huh?” “Nothing.”

————

[st4rgrl4l1f3]

Perhaps 🤭🤭🤭🤭 @hemlocksloadofbull

Stupid stuff I think the 141 would do if they all lived together

—————

Underwear. Who’s is who’s. They all have a red, black, blue and gray pair. Soap may have a pair with the Scottish flag on it.

“I FORGOT WHO WEARS AN XL” Soap would scream from downstairs.

“I DO” Ghost would reply.

“…fatass.”

“I heard that.”

—————

Most random shit in the fridge. Why is the fridge nothing but the cheese drawer and beer?…Okay, let’s check the cupboards. There’s fruit snacks and one of those gallon buckets of goldfish. Okay. Another cupboard. Four cups, four bowls, four plates…The silverware looks the same.

“Why don’t we have food in the kitchen? What happened to the groceries I bought??” Gaz is terrified. He was gone for a week.

“Soap ate it all, and Ghost followed. ‘Saw a cat outside, figured I’d feed it. Now it’s comin back with ‘er kids…” Price says, that last part more quiet than his first two sentences.

“…Is this your idea of groceries?” Gaz looks at Soap, Ghost, and Price.

All three of them in unison, “…Yes.”

—————

Sleeping in the most random places. Why is Gaz halfway on the couch, halfway on the floor? Soap is drooling all over the couch, Ghost is passed out beside his bed, and Price still has his gear on, sleeping beside his rifle, hat halfway on.

Waking up with a sore back, Gaz opens his eyes. Yawning and wincing at the ache right in the middle of his back, he gets up, holding his back like an old man, and cracks it.

“Well good Lord in Heaven, lad, ye nearly broke yer own back crackin it like that.”

Gaz turns around, Soap is holding up his head with his hand, Mohawk all outta whack. Gaz gives him a small “g’mornin.” Before fixing himself breakfast (tap water and cheese from the cheese drawer)

Ghost wakes up, crawls in his bed and falls back asleep. He sleeps like a log.

Price wakes up, oh God, his back hurts. Maybe it was because of all the gear he still has on. He strips himself of it and puts on a gray t-shirt and some sweats. (He still has his hat on???)

—————

Coming home drunk. Holy fuck. Uber loaded with grown ass men laughing about the man that was break-dancing on the table so hard that tears were coming out.

“Yaswereslads gonna make me fuckin cry you know wha I sayin I’m fuckin dead lads, oh shite—“ Soap says, all in one string of words. His accent really comes out when he’s drunk.

“‘T was like he was-wheeze-goin in slow motion when he fell-Another wheeze” Ghost cannot hold his laugh back. He wheezes.

Gaz is looking straight forward, nearly drooling.

Price is listening to Soap and Ghost shit themselves laughing as he silently laughs, gasps of air every five seconds. Even the Uber is laughing.

“Have you ever seen a breakdance?” Gaz says, chatting up the Uber who’s trying to keep his composure.

—————

Discussing pets.

“Can we PLEASE get a dog??” Soap is pleading with Gaz.

“Soap. Look at the fridge. All we have is beer and cheese.”

“The cheese drawer is a necessity. So is the beer.”

“No- listen. You get half decent groceries without me helping, we’ll get a puppy.”

“Hey, wait, can we get a snake—“

“Fuck no we’re not getting a snake, Ghost. What, make you feel at home?”

“I’m not Australian, Soap.”

Price and Gaz look at each other, wide eyed at their stupidity. They rub their temples, trying to genuinely find the brain in their words.

—————

Microwaveable things.

“Can I microwave this bowl?”

“No, Ghost.”

“Uhhh, pretty sure you can.”

“Why did you ask, then??”

“Just cuz.”

Price goes back to his dad show.

“JOHN?”

“YEAH?”

“…YOU WERE RIGHT. MY BOWL MELTED.”

“Oh for fucks-“

“Yer brain is fuckin mush, lad, how’d you not know you can’t microwave that?” Soap laughs at Ghosts misery, his soup gone to waste.

—————

[st4rgrl4l1f3]

Colonel König who seemed to just adore you. You were a magnificent soldier, but you were just so…cute! “Taschenformat” or “Pocket-sized” as he’d say (You weren’t particularly short, he was just huge).

Colonel König who just loved showing off his best soldier, “There they are! This is Y/n L/n, sharpest shooter I know. Glad we have them on the team! They make me look average out there!” You’d stand there, arms in front of you, as your Colonel praised you with his arms on either side of your shoulders. “Thank you, Colonel. I do appreciate it.” You’d say, a bit nervous being shown off like a trophy. “No need, Maus.”

Colonel König who hated when you were injured. He needed to get you into the helicopter, we can’t risk another injury at this point! And when you say “No, sir, I’m just fine,” He’ll shake his head rapidly. “Nein, nein. Du darfst nicht wieder verletzt werden.” (No, No. You mustn’t get hurt again.). And you’d never disobey your Colonel, right? Whilst you get patched by a nurse, he’s there, nervously waiting in a chair. “You are sure they are okay, Ja? No infection?” “Yes, Colonel König. They will be just fine.”

Colonel König who, when he saw a soldier chat you up, marched right over and bragged once more. “Aren’t they a Schatz?” (Aren’t they a treasure?). The shear size of König was enough to make the soldier back up, his eyes sharp enough to cut through his body if he dares touch you.

Colonel König who puts extra bullets into the Russian soldier you were nearly killed by. A gun point blank at your head, bruises on your face. König went red with anger, and shame. Why wasn’t he there to protect you in the first place?! He kicked the soldier in the gut, knocking him off you. He puts six bullets in his body, then dropping to his knees to look at you. “Are you okay, Y/n?! I am sorry, Maus. I shouldn’t been faster. Scheiße!” (Fuck!)

Colonel Konig who cleans your wounds because he feels so bad. He should’ve been there, he should’ve been next to you, he should’ve been— “Colonel, it is okay. This line of work is dangerous, we won’t always be perfect.” He sighs, “You’re right, but you are different. You must be more careful. Your body is precious, Kleine Maus.” (Little mouse).

[st4rgrl4l1f3]

I just found out that Soap canonically doesn’t like dogs !! Oopsies!

Stupid stuff I think the 141 would do if they all lived together

—————

Underwear. Who’s is who’s. They all have a red, black, blue and gray pair. Soap may have a pair with the Scottish flag on it.

“I FORGOT WHO WEARS AN XL” Soap would scream from downstairs.

“I DO” Ghost would reply.

“…fatass.”

“I heard that.”

—————

Most random shit in the fridge. Why is the fridge nothing but the cheese drawer and beer?…Okay, let’s check the cupboards. There’s fruit snacks and one of those gallon buckets of goldfish. Okay. Another cupboard. Four cups, four bowls, four plates…The silverware looks the same.

“Why don’t we have food in the kitchen? What happened to the groceries I bought??” Gaz is terrified. He was gone for a week.

“Soap ate it all, and Ghost followed. ‘Saw a cat outside, figured I’d feed it. Now it’s comin back with ‘er kids…” Price says, that last part more quiet than his first two sentences.

“…Is this your idea of groceries?” Gaz looks at Soap, Ghost, and Price.

All three of them in unison, “…Yes.”

—————

Sleeping in the most random places. Why is Gaz halfway on the couch, halfway on the floor? Soap is drooling all over the couch, Ghost is passed out beside his bed, and Price still has his gear on, sleeping beside his rifle, hat halfway on.

Waking up with a sore back, Gaz opens his eyes. Yawning and wincing at the ache right in the middle of his back, he gets up, holding his back like an old man, and cracks it.

“Well good Lord in Heaven, lad, ye nearly broke yer own back crackin it like that.”

Gaz turns around, Soap is holding up his head with his hand, Mohawk all outta whack. Gaz gives him a small “g’mornin.” Before fixing himself breakfast (tap water and cheese from the cheese drawer)

Ghost wakes up, crawls in his bed and falls back asleep. He sleeps like a log.

Price wakes up, oh God, his back hurts. Maybe it was because of all the gear he still has on. He strips himself of it and puts on a gray t-shirt and some sweats. (He still has his hat on???)

—————

Coming home drunk. Holy fuck. Uber loaded with grown ass men laughing about the man that was break-dancing on the table so hard that tears were coming out.

“Yaswereslads gonna make me fuckin cry you know wha I sayin I’m fuckin dead lads, oh shite—“ Soap says, all in one string of words. His accent really comes out when he’s drunk.

“‘T was like he was-wheeze-goin in slow motion when he fell-Another wheeze” Ghost cannot hold his laugh back. He wheezes.

Gaz is looking straight forward, nearly drooling.

Price is listening to Soap and Ghost shit themselves laughing as he silently laughs, gasps of air every five seconds. Even the Uber is laughing.

“Have you ever seen a breakdance?” Gaz says, chatting up the Uber who’s trying to keep his composure.

—————

Discussing pets.

“Can we PLEASE get a dog??” Soap is pleading with Gaz.

“Soap. Look at the fridge. All we have is beer and cheese.”

“The cheese drawer is a necessity. So is the beer.”

“No- listen. You get half decent groceries without me helping, we’ll get a puppy.”

“Hey, wait, can we get a snake—“

“Fuck no we’re not getting a snake, Ghost. What, make you feel at home?”

“I’m not Australian, Soap.”

Price and Gaz look at each other, wide eyed at their stupidity. They rub their temples, trying to genuinely find the brain in their words.

—————

Microwaveable things.

“Can I microwave this bowl?”

“No, Ghost.”

“Uhhh, pretty sure you can.”

“Why did you ask, then??”

“Just cuz.”

Price goes back to his dad show.

“JOHN?”

“YEAH?”

“…YOU WERE RIGHT. MY BOWL MELTED.”

“Oh for fucks-“

“Yer brain is fuckin mush, lad, how’d you not know you can’t microwave that?” Soap laughs at Ghosts misery, his soup gone to waste.

—————