#cod mw3 reboot

[emmster]

Thinking about how Simon checks for a pulse and then he doesn’t feel Johnny’s pulse

[operative079]

🐍

Viper Graves The snake that he is

[W.I.P Post || Update whenever]

[starrynights-and-a-rainyworld]

[everlong0girl]

𝐂𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫

꧁—————————————————————꧂

Price is in his late thirties and entering forties. He’s been wanting to start a family for forever. You’ve had some pregnancy scares before and you’d see he would never get scared or worried, a small smile flashing across his beard framed mouth before disappearing.

He’d come up to you one day, simply asking you to start trying. You’ve been together for long enough right? He was practically shaking, wanting you to say yes more than wanting to breathe. Every time he’d see a baby he’d look at you with a small knowing look. Trying out multiple methods he’d read on the internet like putting a pillow under your hips and whatnot.

Definitely a girl dad. A big strong guy with a little girl is everything. He’d let her dress him up and put that kids makeup on him whenever she asked because he when he enters the room, fragile masculinity vanishes.

Very private and wouldn’t tell his work buddies a thing. Not about trying for a baby, nor having one later on. Why would they need to know anything about his girls?

Soap would need a bit more time. But when he feels that small want for a family, he’s whipped. First you’d notice he’s touching your stomach more and before bed he’d just put a hand on there. Eventually you’d ask him about it and he’d get embarrassed and tell you he just wants a baby.

Would be more of a boy dad. He’d be the type of guy to just start yelling and screaming around the hospital “It’s a boy! It’s a boy!” like the proudest man ever. Biggest dad ever and would take the boy to games and get him a lot of fake guns, which you’d sometimes oppose, though he’d just brush it off like harmless fun.

Would definitely tell everyone about trying. Unintentionally catching some off guard by saying how he and his missus are trying every night for about a week now or more, and would be until they have a bun in the over. Though it wouldn’t be long till you actually did conceive.

Gaz is the youngest out the lot, but he’d get the feeling pretty early. Still in his late twenties, either he’d make a joke about it, or a comment, but then start considering it.

He would seriously not mind if its a boy or a girl. Some people say that too but secretly bias one gender. He’s not like that. He just wants it to be his little baby.

He’d be a gentle parent. None of that yelling or screaming at the kid, just gentle. He has a patience of a saint, and he’d even encourage you to be as calm as you could. Would probably be the most understanding about what you would be going trough while pregnant, and after.

Wouldn’t say anything to his team, and would keep quiet about it. One day he’d let you show up with a baby on your hip, shocking them all slightly, but he’d just be like “Yeah i have a kid”.

Ghost is scared. One random day a thought came to his head and he brushed it off, but later when you came to him with the idea, he considered it. Until he agreed.

He is mostly like Gaz, and doesn’t have a preference. He’d only be really scared about his emotional state and would doubt his ability to give the kid that father-child relationship. Wouldn’t be scared to voice his fear to you, but you’d comfort him and tell him it was okay to be afraid. He was hurt like everyone else, and it felt so refreshing to him that he had you, a person who loved him, and now a little baby. Meaning his hands could be used for something oh so gentle, and not just handling firearms.

He’d hold the baby like it was made out of glass, and during your pregnancy and after, he’d help with anything. What you said was law.

Nobody in his team would know from aside Johnny maybe. He’d tell him since in his eyes Johnny seems the least harmless out the lot for some reason.

꧁—————————————————————꧂

[greatmoldone]

What I think everyone gets wrong about TF141

By everyone I mean the fandom as a whole

I can tell so many of y'all haven't played the game

Also I do not condone the actions of any of these war criminals. This is just a character study.

John "Bravo 0-6" Price

I guess the biggest pattern for this guy is that he's a cuck. 💀 It's obviously wish fulfillment for smut and not intended to be a character study but like it kinda rubs me the wrong way sometimes.

Also gonna point out the fact that Price tends to be written as 100% correct all the time. Always the good guy who is doing the right thing and I feel like that just undermines the whole point of his character being morally grey. He's willing to do bad things for the greater good from his perspective. That doesn't mean that his perspective is always correct. Don't fall for that propaganda that the series tries to push.

He cares about people more than the politics which is great but don't forget he's fucking ruthless. The first mission of the game you literally see him throw a man in a bomb vest over a railing when he thinks Gaz won't be able to deactivate it in time. Sacrifices for the "greater good." But not that man's greater good. He also threatened a man's family to get information out of him, whether he was bluffing or not. He put the gun in someone else's (Gaz's) hand and left it up to him.

Where are my unreliable narrator fics of him??

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

"UwU softboi" Nah, fam. This man is ANGRY. That's like his character introduction. He's pissed that the people in charge won't let him act. He wants more autonomy to be more aggressive and I've seen him reduced to "good boi Wyll" from Baldur's Gate 3.

I do agree he has a softer side 100%. Gaz's anger comes from a place of compassion. He's tired of watching people die or get hurt when he could have done something. He wants to act first to prevent worse outcomes later. Just look at Clean House. That whole mission is messy with blurred lines of morality but ultimately they feel justified in the end because they stop a worse ending.

But as someone who is also extremely angry, that shit will come out in less than favorable ways. Getting into arguments because you're mad at the situation, blowing up at seemingly small trespasses, etc. It doesn't mean he won't catch himself and correct but let the man get frustrated and angry in your fics please. Also let's be honest when has a military been good about getting their soldiers therapy.

I probably don't even need to address the fact that he's completely overlooked so much. I think we all know the reason for that. Hm.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

I feel like this is the most widespread misunderstanding of a character ngl. It kind of baffles me.

He's not a dark sexy booktok romance archetype. I feel like everyone projects ideas onto him because of the mask?? Something something about a blank canvas.

From what we see in the games, he's sarcastic but focused, a little grumpy but caring enough to distract Soap with dumb ass dad jokes in Las Almas. Like that's such a telling moment for me. Soap is the newest guy in the reboot. He's alone, injured, has no weapon, and is surrounded by enemies that will kill him without hesitation. But Ghost is able to guide him over the radio and coach him in survival while keeping his spirits up with banter.

He complained about Johnny at first but clearly grew to like him so I feel like he's also stubborn, but not entirely prideful. He's a soldier after all, you've gotta ditch that pretty early on or you won't do well. Would absolutely rag on someone to show affection.

He's also loud as fuck. Idk why no one has talked about this. Bro basically yells every voice line except for a few occasions.

He's a bottom but a lot of y'all aren't ready for that conversation.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Golden retriever ADHD personified. Is he a bit goofy at times especially with banter? Yeah, sure but I fail to see where everyone is getting the idea that he's this class clown. Bro is incredibly focused and takes his job seriously because it's literally life or death.

Also where is the idea that he's some feral sex fiend coming from?? I get playing things up for fan service or indulgence or whatever. That's fine, lean into whatever you need to for your fic but I feel like the characterization of him I see the most is this strange collective consciousness of Soap where everyone is building off each other's depictions of him and not based on the character himself.

Ultimately it's fanfiction, people can write what they want. I'm not going to tell you to stop, but these are just patterns I've noticed that can be a lil irritating when I'm trying to find something that feels in-character. Or something that isn't just wish fulfillment porn.

[phantasm-ae]

cw: fluff, size difference, gn reader x konig, just soft fluff, domestic chaos

HEADCANON: Konig finally stays for the night, however, it doesn’t go as planned as usual and well… your wooden bed agrees

PAIRING: Konig x gn reader

It all started as one of the best nights of your life.

Your favorite music was playing. You'd made dinner. Your hulking boyfriend -- all thick scars and tender muscle -- even let you feed him dessert by hand on his lap, one rough hand tracing circles on your thigh and the other just gently palming your hip. Blushing every time your fingers brushed his lips with a cheeky grin. All expectant and amused at your wry and reverent nature.

His sweet sweet princess, all domestic and soft.

You wore your favorite pair of socks with kittens on them, and as usual, he'd called them "cute little beasts". He sat still when you insisted he try on the new moisturizer you bought for him. Only letting out a soft skeptic grunt as you gently dabbed the pebbled cream on his cheekbones, his nose, and that faint scar near his temple that you always traced absentmindedly.

He let you put in your favorite movie -- the one he usually groaned or muttered about being too loud, schatz, or viel zu unrealistisch, Liebling -- which you never quite understood, anyway. Making you always shuck away his complaints with a soft scoff, pressing skip and putting on whatever the hell he insisted you both watch.

You didn't even care that he looked comically massive on your couch as always, curled like a shrimp to keep from knocking over your velvet lamp with his knee. Making himself small in your space, and this time without so much as a complaint or a "should get bigger place, ja? this not good for me, Schatz"

No half-joking comments about how your kitchen ceiling was giving him “claustrophobia.” No theatrical sighs when he knocked his knee into your coffee table again. No murmured suggestions of “maybe someday we find something bigger -- something with windows that open.”

Not tonight, though.

Tonight, he just folded himself into your world like he belonged there. Like he had no interest in taking up more space than you gave him. Like your tiny apartment and your kitten socks and your soft pink throw pillows were enough.

Didn't say anything more about how your apartment was clearly designed for someone a third his size. Didn't complain anymore about the way his head nearly grazed your doorframes, or how his shoulders had to angle sideways to fit in the kitchen. Just adapting. Quietly. Carefully.

Like he was finally learning how to compromise just for this moment and this moment alone.

No tense edges and apologetic quiet. Just loose. Warm.

Laughing softly every time you said something ridiculous about your comfort movie -- your “emotional support cinematic garbage,” as he once lovingly called it. And when you leaned into him, dragging the blanket up over both your legs, he didn’t freeze like he usually did.

No, he exhaled into your hair. Murmured, “My sweet hase,” and tucked you under his arm like a secret.

You gave him one of your oversized shirts to sleep in when he finally agreed to stay over for the first time. It barely fit him, of course.

The oversized shirt -- which normally hung to your thighs like a dress -- now stretched tight across his chest, clinging to the shape of him in a way that felt obscene for something that had little cartoon strawberries on it.

You tried not to stare. You really did. But he caught your eyes lingering, lips twitching with smug amusement. “Do I look ridiculous?”

You made a vague, strangled sound. “You look… domestic.”

He tilted his head at that, a ghost of a smirk on his mouth. “Domestic like… a husband?”

You choked.

He grinned, pleased with himself.

You spun on your heel. “Bed. Now. Before I combust.”

Behind you, you could hear him chuckling lowly -- one of those soft, almost soundless laughs he only let slip when he was really proud of himself. And he had every right to be. You were already practically vibrating, nerves singing from the slow, syrup-sweet affection that seemed to coat everything he did tonight.

He followed you to your bedroom, bare feet thudding gently behind you like quiet thunder. And when you turned to face him at the edge of the bed, you had to tilt your chin all the way up.

He looked too big in your space. Too tall for the slanted ceiling. Too broad for the doorframe. Too much for your cozy little room full of throw pillows and string lights.

But he didn’t make fun. Didn’t sneer or mock or shrink away from any of it.

He just looked down at you, gaze tender and quiet, mouth opening slightly to ask, “You’re sure you want me to stay?”

You could only blink, your lips quirking up in amusement. “Do you think I put lotion on your nose for fun?"

He laughed again, head ducking. “I mean-- I would not be surprised.”

You smiled, stepping close enough for your chest to brush his. “Stay, please.”

A beat. His breath caught.

And then: “Okay.”

Climbing into bed together was a process. You had to roll out of the way while he maneuvered his massive frame onto the mattress, grunting softly when his knee hit the headboard and his foot got tangled in the blanket.

You laughed into your pillow. “You’re like a cat trying to get comfy in a shoebox.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” he muttered, face half-buried in your shoulder, his leg stretching out of one of your pink-crocheted throw blankets. The hem of it not even reaching inches below his knee.

You smiled at that, watching him shift a little, trying to tuck himself closer to you without accidentally flattening the mattress --- and then --

-- came the first groan.

From the bed, not him.

You both froze.

“…Was that -- ?” you started.

“I did not move,” König said immediately, a little too quickly.

The bed let out another creak. Louder this time. Threatening.

You twisted to look at him, suspicion blooming in your eyes. “König.”

“I am still. Like statue.”

“You weigh two statues.”

A beat of silence.

Then: CRAACK.

The bed shrieked like a wounded animal.

You froze.

He froze.

Then the mattress sank sideways with a dramatic, final creak, and the headboard tipped ominously backward. Your bed all slanted and askew, resembling more a cemented slope rather than an IKEA diy.

“…Schatz?” he said slowly.

“Yes?”

“Did your bed just -- ”

“Yes. Yes, it did.”

You both stared at the ceiling in silence for a long moment.

Then König gently rolled off the bed with all the grace of a fallen log. Lay flat on the floor, arms crossed over his chest like a corpse in a funeral home.

“I will fix it. I am…very sorry.”

You scrambled to the side, head tilting down to stare at him, fighting laughter.

“König.”

“I don’t deserve a bed. I must sleep in exile now. On the ground. Like a peasant.”

“…You are so dramatic.”

“I am six-foot-ten and cursed, schatz. The bed was not built for this.”

“You say that like we weren’t just cuddling!”

“I cuddled carefully!”

You dissolved into laughter, sliding halfway off the ruined mattress and flopping beside him, curling up against his chest.

He looked over at you, sheepish.

“You’re not mad?”

You kissed his jaw. “I’d rather sleep on the floor with you than in a king-sized bed without you.”

He smiled -- soft and crooked and a little embarrassed.

“…Still,” he murmured, pulling you closer, “I will build you a new one. Reinforced. Like fortress walls. Steel. No more of this ‘vintage frame’ nonsense.”

“Oh god.”

He nodded solemnly. “It will be indestructible. Like our love.”

“…König.”

“Titanium bolts, Liebling.”

drabbles masterlist

[gazstations]

Sweet Like Honey

ᯓᡣ𐭩 SUMMARY

Johnny finds himself working at an animal shelter after a bullet to his head ruins his military career.

PAIRINGS: John MacTavish x female!reader

WORD COUNT: 2,572 words

WARNINGS: Mentions of Soap’s head injury, just fluff, doggies.

◇ Notes: Pretending I’m not on hiatus in order to publish this, hello. I am still alive, my dudes.

○●○ NAVIGATION MASTERLIST || COD MASTERLIST

♡◇♡◇♡◇♡◇♡

JOHNNY MET YOU WHEN HE WAS AT ROCK BOTTOM. You were an angel sent from above, sucking up the morsels that resided on the sandy ocean floor and bringing them to the cresting waves and still waters above. You were a pure light in a world brandished by hellfire and turmoil. Bright eyes and sweet words graced your soft lips, where rigidness tainted his cracked ones.

At least, he imagined they were soft when he found his blue eyes flickering down to the way they manipulated words. He hung on to everything, stowing away every beautiful syllable until he was able to craft a sweet treat.

Johnny learned deeply what it was to be cast out. Unable to continue working for a cause that he devoted his whole life to. It was humiliating. He had nothing left. Didn't want some cheap, easy civilian job. He couldn't sustain himself that way.

Which was how he somehow started volunteering at one of Glasgow's many animal shelters.

He found himself between metal cages and barking dogs nearly every day. The retired, disabled vet was a godsend for the older couple that ran the place. It was apparently tumultuous to get support for organizations like these. Something Johnny curled his lip at all the time.

How was it that the good, charitable people always suffered?

Every day he was there. Bright and early because he still couldn't fathom sleeping in. It felt like too much of a waste of a day to spend it loitering in bed. So, every day, he was at the shelter, ready to walk every single dog, and then spend time with them afterward.

He became a paid employee by the end of the first week because he was such a great addition. After that, his tasks got more plentiful. Something he desperately craved.

You arrived at the end of his first month. Well, technically, you had been here for years, apparently, but had taken a long leave of absence to deal with some family issues. He wasn't aware of your status at the time of his first introduction, but instantly, he noticed how well the animals received you.

He had just entered the building for the first time this morning, when he saw your form seated in front of Comet’s cage. He looked around for Fiona but found the older woman was not at her usual perch at the front desk. He pouted slightly and turned back to you.

“Ye awright, love?” He greeted and watched as your head shot towards him. “We're no’ open yet.”

You smiled brightly at him, to his surprise not even moving from your spot. He wondered how you even got in when he just had to use his key to come in the front door. He at least hoped Fiona knew you were here.

“Morning,” you greeted casually. “I'm aware, thank you. I work here, after all.”

Johnny tilted his head at that. “Ye work ‘ere? Since when?”

You thought for a moment, tapping your chin. “About two years now, give or take.”

Now Johnny was perplexed. He was well aware the synapses of his brain were a little shot as of late, but he knew he wouldn't forget a pretty doe like you any time soon. Even if you were a phantom in the back of the building, he would remember you. It boggled his mind a bit, especially since Fiona never mentioned anybody else worked here.

“Two years?” He repeated incredulously. “Where ‘ave ye been the last month? Hidin'?”

You huffed, “Been on leave. You're as much of a surprise.”

Johnny grinned at that, “Aye, a guid surprise, ah hope.”

“That remains to be seen…” You trailed off when you realized you didn't have his name.

“Johnny…” he filled in the space quickly.

He didn't really like meeting new people and learning new pleasantries for the initial start, but he decided then that he didn’t mind meeting you. Maybe it was the fact you were the first person in a while that he conversed with that was around his age. Yeah, that was the reason.

You stood to your feet and came to a stop just to his left. He didn't immediately turn to you, so he missed your mouth moving as you said something. It was only when you tapped his shoulder that he finally looked over.

“Huh, love? Wha’ did ye say?” He asked.

“Already spacing out, Johnny?” You mused. “Only two minutes into your day?”

Johnny felt his cheeks warm up. He scratched at the back of his neck, preparing to say what usually rendered people silent. They never knew how to react to his situation when they learned the truth. Always a pitying stare and an awkward glance somewhere else. Well, he might as well bite the bullet and mention things ahead of time.

He turned his right side towards you, suddenly the muffle of his left ear was not an issue right now.

“Nah. Jus’ a wee bit slow in ma processin’,” Johnny started. “Also hard o’ hearin’ on yer side.”

Your expression softened as you grew thoughtful. He shifted on his feet. The one thing a bullet to the head gave him was more insecurity. As if the starfish-shaped bullet scar was a shining beacon. In reality, not many people noticed it unless it was specifically pointed out.

“Well, if I ever yap too much, then I guess you can just turn that ear to me and shut me off,” you finally said.

Johnny found himself grinning again, “Ah'm sure yer yappin’ is nice.”

“Oh, Johnny,” you shook your head, “you're going to regret those words.”

Johnny liked that challenge.

♡◇♡

A new animal was set to arrive any second.

It had been two weeks since Johnny first met you, and his initial opinion of you had not yet been proven wrong. He had relished in every bit of commentary he received from your pretty lips. Sometimes, he enjoyed the movement of your lips a little more than the words themselves. All in all, you were one of the biggest highlights of his week.

He had been aching to ask you out for a proper dinner, but he had not done that in a long time. Plus, if the military had fraternization rules, he was almost sure so would the shelter. He gave himself every reason in the book not to approach you in a less than platonic way.

Roger, Fiona's husband, always went out to collect the animals. He was older, but he still could overpower most dogs still. He had the proper demeanor to handle the frightened little things initially. As Johnny had not witnessed one dog that floundered in Roger's periphery yet.

The doors opened, and Roger popped up, leading a sweet German Shepard. The poor girl's tail was tucked, and Johnny immediately noticed the hobble in her steps. She was sweet-eyed, big brown pools of color analyzing the front room apprehensively. Yet, she followed Roger obediently.

“Awright, lad,” Roger stopped in front of them and leaned down to give the canine a quick treat. “Ye got a twin.”

Johnny's eyebrow raised as he looked at Roger for a moment before blinking down at the dog. She was already looking up at him. Her eyes said so much, and he wished he could understand her silent language. He was always fond of animals.

“Sweet wee thing was shot in the ‘ead,” Roger elaborated.

The hobble made sense now. Johnny’s heart clenched. It was one thing for him to be shot. An innocent creature? That stirred some deeply-woven anger in the pit of his stomach. Who had the cruel heart to aim a lethal weapon at a wonderful creature.

While he was contemplating, you moved.

You crouched down, holding a gentle hand out for the dog. “Poor thing…” you muttered as the dog accepted your kind gesture and nudged her wet nose into your hand. “They catch the bastard?”

Roger's lip curled, “Aye. Lass was protectin’ her owner. All part of ‘her trainin’, y'ken? Though, it retired her.”

Johnny's gut was unsettled at those words. How could a different species understand the turmoil of losing something? The situation was surreal to him. A kinship to this dog was not what he expected this morning.

He crouched down next to you, ignoring the way your shoulders brushed against each other. His calloused hand ran over the dog's head as soon as she accepted him in.

“Lass was a police dog,” Roger spoke after a moment. “Sorta like our wee Johnny boy.”

Your eyes found him. He noticed that since the first day he met you, you always ensured you were on his good side. When you spoke to him, you let him see the syllables your lips produced. He had gotten quite good at reading your lips.

“You were a cop?” You wondered. The one thing Johnny always liked was your genuine curiosity.

“Military, doe,” he answered. He paused for a moment, always finding it hard to talk about that part of his life. He always felt resentment afterward, cursing the universe for the way it shackled him to the sea floor. “Was a Sergeant.”

“Oh…” Your eyes flickered up Roger. “Reckon Johnny should be the one to help this little girl warm up to us.”

“Already ma plan, hen,” Roger smiled brightly. “They'll be a pair soon enough.”

With that, Roger took his leave. Johnny kept petting the dog, suddenly nervous to be alone in a room with you. He hadn’t had a crush since he was a little boy. It was pretty much humiliating that at the ripe age of 29, John MacTavish was smitten over a bonnie thing. He was so out of his element. He was used to gunpowder and picking up his ashes from the war zone. Not whatever this infatuation was.

“You were shot?” Your voice brought him out of his thoughts.

He swallowed, “Aye, doe. Plenty o' times. This is jus’ the one tha' stuck.”

♡◇♡

Johnny could be found with Callie the pup most days.

For three weeks, he would idle in her pen, bringing toys and all his drawing items with him. He would laze around on her thick dog bed, the mutt’s head either in his lap or anywhere nearby. She would let out soft chuffs as she dreamed away in that little brain of hers, while Johnny sketched and sketched.

Well, he taught himself how to again.

The bullet took most of his motor function. With a year of physical therapy, Johnny thankfully gained back most of his previous abilities. Just not the fancy stuff like standing for long periods, most running, and most disappointingly, he had a consistent tremble to his hands.

With restraint, he was able to reduce the annoying shakes, but when he wasn’t doing anything to distract himself, his body had a mind of its own. It was so frustrating he wanted to bang his head against a wall and hopefully reverse the trauma that had been bestowed upon him.

Petting Callie helped. When his hand stroked the soft tufts of fur on her body, his hand trembles stopped.

“I should be taking more pictures.”

Your voice was saccharine honey as it escaped the confines of your mouth. It immediately had his attention. Like he was the mutt that was trying to puff up and gain attention in hopes that it would allow him a ticket home.

Home. He wondered what your home was like. Most likely clean as you were naturally a neat person. You also loved color, suggesting ways to spice up the front entrance to Fiona. The older woman took your suggestions to heart. Already there were new pictures and painted walls as of this week.

“Aye. Ye like seeing the lass and ah together?” Johnny replied, throwing a smile through the bars of the pen.

“It’s sweet,” you responded easily. Your fingers curled around the bars as you gazed in. “Looks comfy, too.”

“Ye want tae join?”

Your eyelids slitted, seemingly taken aback by that simple offer. Johnny almost took his words back, heat creeping up his body. It felt like such a juvenile thing to get worried over, but Johnny had been reliving his teenage years all over again. Only the lasses he always went after had nothing on you.

“Where am I going to sit?” You asked.

“Dog bed is big ‘nough,” Johnny pointed out. “We can push Callie doon if we need tae.”

You were silent yet again, and Johnny placed his sketchbook on the floor by the bed. He pretended he didn’t care, but to him, asking you to do this meant a lot. The bed was big when it was just him, but with the added presence of you, it would mean you would be pressed right up into him.

“Okay, scoot over, MacTavish,” you decided.

Johnny’s heart was thumping as you opened the pen and stepped in. He scooted over as requested and watched stiffly as you slipped onto the bed. Callie lifted her head, tail wagging for a moment before she slipped back into her slumber.

Johnny could hardly breathe as you suddenly shared the air around them. He saw the features of your face much more prominently now, and he swallowed nervously. His hands grew clammy as he adjusted his body some. Yet, nothing stopped the way he was so close to you.

“You should adopt her,” you spoke as you settled.

“Aye?” Johnny hummed. Conversation was good. Maybe it would distract him. “Ye reckon?”

“Yeah. You are two peas in a pod,” you said. You reached out to pet Callie’s head, and the dog sighed in her sleep.

Johnny never considered bringing the canine home. He saw her nearly every day and missed her on the weekend. He knew she did as well, if the wag of her tail was anything to go by when he came in bright and early Monday mornings.

The poor sweetheart retired two years ago when she was just 2 years old. It was a routine drug check, but someone got antsy, and Callie had jumped to protect her handler. After a year of rehab, Callie was freshly domestic and living in peace with her handler. Then, just 9 months later, said handler had died, leaving Callie needing a home and no one wanting to adopt. So, she was surrendered to the shelter.

Now, here she was. Craving a forever home, somewhere to stake her roots after the abrupt life change. Just like Johnny.

“Ye really think ah should?” Johnny asked once more, just so he had it right.

You reached your hand out and put it over Johnny’s awkwardly dangling one on his right thigh. Johnny froze but found out he could be brave sometimes as he turned his hand so you went palm to palm. You got the message and slipped your fingers between the grooves of his.

“I really do. As long as I still get to see her,” you declared with a grin.

Johnny found himself grinning back. He looked down at your hands, letting his thumb run along the ridges of your knuckles. Your hand was warm, and his slightly trembled. He would pass it off as a symptom of his eroded synapses. Just to spare himself the embarrassment, but he knew for a fact that this case was because of you.

“Aye, tha’ can be arranged, doe.”

°•○●○•°

TAGLIST

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[secretsandscars]

~Quick painting study I did recently - the man, the legend, the SAS scalpel - Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick ❤️‍🔥~

[omegapropaganda]

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Pretty boy

Tomorrow: NikPrice

[milkandkissesss]

𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐭𝟐

John Price x Fem!Reader

Part 1 here!

An: Ts is about the early 1800s/early 1900s post with John I made on my other profile @everlong0girl! Have fun^

Warnings: small fight, age gap (early20s/late30s) making up.

^^

It had been a long while since you saw them. Your beloved parents whom you thought cared enough to even try and find you, reach out to you..

You wanted to send a letter or a few, but you knew better. John was your family now.

You settled into a sweet stone house just at the edge of town, just a train ride away from John's work base

Two bedrooms, bathroom, a slightly bigger kitchen and a sweet looking lounging room. Library for all of your books and your studies, along with his office and a sweet looking balcony that overlooked your small garden.

Life was simple. He made a house, and you made a home. He brought home money, and you'd make use of it.

But as months went by, for some reason you became slightly distant. Resenting him for, in a way, breaking you away from your family. It came suddenly, irrationally, and you didn't even know how those thoughts started.

He noticed it right away. How you'd shy away from his touch, and how you'd lean away from him at night when he'd try to nuzzle or hold you.

Tonight he came home from work, few days passed while he was gone, which was not an unusual occurrence. He was a Captain after all. You were in the kitchen stirring some sweet stew you made, liking the thought of eating hot stew on a winter night.

He came up behind you and hugged you around your waist gently. Immediately feeling the way you tensed up when under his hands. His gruff voice filling the room besides the sound of the boiling liquid atop the stove. "Are you alright my love?"

Sometimes when the irrational thoughts would get to you, he'd remind you just why you loved him. All these small touches and simple gestures of want and need were there to remind you, he was yours. Your husband.

You sighed. "I'm alright honey.. Just have a lot on my mind lately."

You knew you were being weird. But sometimes the thoughts of your mother's words came back to your head. "Think about your future"

But then you reminded yourself that they were ready to marry you off to some stranger for the rest of your life, just for the sake of money and favor.

"I think about my mother.. a lot lately." You cooed.

As his hands just slightly tightened on your waist.

"Your mother you say? My love they're past.. They aren't in our lives anymore." He muttered under his mustache.

"I miss my family, John." You said, though not realizing how it might have come off to him.

"I'm your family love.. Me." He answered. His voice just a tinge possessive. He was a bad man in people's eyes, but in your eyes he was a good man who did "bad things". That was because the others only saw those things, and you were the only one who felt that gentle, loving man. He only showed himself to you, opening up to you and being able to fall apart, knowing you'd put him back together.

And lately when he'd feel that tension in you, he felt like that ability to open himself up was diminishing with every small flinch you'd make.

"Love, they didn't care about you, nor your feelings.. I do."

"I know, i know.. I just can't get them out of my head." You said tentatively. As if feeling him also get more and more rigid behind you.

"No, you don't know." He bit back in a slightly more agitated voice.

"We're married, you're my wife. You're not their daughter anymore, you said that."

"I know i did, i.. I just miss them.. You got to understand John." You stuttered out, before hearing him argue back. "Sweetheart. I can't. They hurt you, and you.. You continue missing them and call them family, as if I'm some kind of man that took you away from them. Do you even know how that makes me feel?"

"I know, I-" He cut you off, as if needing to say. "No. I work.. And i break my back, to make sure You're comfortable, fed, happy. I buy you new dresses, shoes, everything. And i can't even have you care enough to stop saying something because it hurts my feelings?" He said in a biting remark. "Lately, when i touch you, you act like I'm sick contagious."

"No. No John no.. Thats not true. I appreciate you so much, i'm just having a lot on my mind lately."

"Yeah and i do too."

Then you realized how selfish you had been. Almost two months, you've been plagued by guilt and worry, simply because your parents programmed you that way, whenever you did something against them. And you had been disregarding his feelings for quite a while.

You sighed and turned around to face him, when you saw the thing you least expected. His manly sweet eyes had little sparkles at the corners. Shaking your head immediately, your hands went up to cup his face. Whispering. "I'm so sorry honey.. I'm so sorry.."

Before you know it, his hands were looser around you, and he leaned down into your neck with a shaky exhale of relief. He was so worried you'd think this was a mistake, which you even started doing. But he snapped you out of it. Feeling that same care and need for him, he knew he was welcome in your arms again.

You kissed over his head and held his hair, making him gently hum against your skin.

"Come on.. Dinner should be done soon, you must be hungry."

Few days later, it was a usual night before bedtime, you were getting ready to sleep. Sitting on the small wooden chair in front of the mirror. Eventually seeing him in the back, walking in wearing a simple cotton shirt and some sleeping pantaloons. Giving you a small glance in the mirror, and a small smile.

You were brushing your hair and gave him a smile back. It was one of those nights. You knew simply from the little hopeful look in his eye.

John was in his mid thirties, and he had been wanting a family for a long time. He even voiced to you, how he wished you'd conceive and have a baby, since you had been married for a good year now.

You stood up, your night gown fluttering against your ankles, as you walked over to him, sitting by him on the edge of the bed.

Hearing him say. "Good evening missus.."

"Evening Mister." You muttered back. Over your time together, you've learned the things he liked, and seemed to like them yourself just as much.

His hand went around your waist, scooting closer, as he asked. "May i?"

You just let him. Like you always let him. As afterwards, you laid down on his chest, your fingers gently going through his chest hair with small affectionate movements. He loved it. He loved you, and the fact that you two were back on track.

His hand atop your belly, as he was like a hopeful kid, wondering if you could maybe conceive tonight even. Muttering. "Do you think we did it love?"

"Maybe, maybe not.. i sure hope so."

Then he nuzzled into your temple and cheek a bit. His beard scratching at your skin as you chuckled. Saying gruffly. "I hope so too.. but i don't mind the process neither, sweet pea.. I love lovin' you.."

You grinned at him. Always getting a bit timid when he'd make such blunt comments. Simply answering playfully. "You fool.."

"Oh If it means i'm a fool for wanting ya, then im a bloody fool Darling.."

────────────

@ohdrey89 your part two delivered !!

[without-energy-always]

Ill never get over prices smile like why does he look a quokka??

[operative079]

Stretching = =

Two workaholics

[gucci-ross]

These COD Y/n are not it!!

I’m tired of the barrack bunny stuff or the over exaggerated breasts and butts figure. AND saying she is a lieutenant around early 20s. That doesn’t make sense!!!

Girl- Gimme one y/n that makes people question about how old she is when she mentioned stuff she did in the 70s, 80s and 90s!!!

Mine [oc] is like that and have beef with Buses and electric cars.

I want Y/n to be like:

Y/n: Move your ass! What are you waiting around here for?! The bus!

———

Y/n: *smokes* i haven’t heard that song from Megadeth since they did an open performance for Dio…

Soap: how old are you again?

———

Laswell: I remember you got me to go to that party. Left me alone and shit.

Y/n: Hey! That got you to open up and meet your wife. I’m still bitter that you didn’t bring me to the honeymoon.

Laswell: You didn’t help.

Y/n: yes I did!

———

Gaz: Captain told me you got a tattoo.

Y/n: yeah *rolls up sleeve* here.

Gaz: not that one. You have another one.

Y/n: I’m not telling you, Kid.

Nik: *passing by* It’s a tramp stamp. That said Hugh Jackman.

Y/n: Bastard!!

Gaz: *wheezing*

———

Ghost: The Bus! It’s going to ram into the crowd!

Y/n: I never trust those things!

Soap: What?!

Y/n: shoot the wheels!

Soap: What?!

Y/n: Did I ask for driver to pull over?!Shoot the wheels damn it!!

———

Price: You would make a good captain.

Y/n: I would’ve been a terrible one.

Price: I know. *Chuckles*

———

Y/n: I need to be taken out.

Gaz: like on a date?

Y/n: No by a sniper.

Ghost: That’s one way to a man’s heart.

———

Gaz: you got kids?

Y/n: Yep. 2 boys.

Soap: wouldn’t mind looking after your wee lads if you croak…

Y/n: they’re in their 20s Soap. What do you mean croak? I’m old not that old.

Gaz: How old are you-

Y/n: Focus on the mission.

———

Y/n: Damn I can’t read this… *pulls out reading glasses from her vest pouch*

Price: *struggles to keep a straight face*

THATS WHAT I WANT!

[everlong0girl]

He’s so handsome atp he can destruct me (Barry doing everything but being on set for MW4)

[parkersbliss]