mvctavish

[mvctavish]

sorry i couldn't post yesterday and i can't post today either 😔 i'll make sure to post twice on monday to make up for it!! also happy valentine's day to us chronically single girlies

[mvctavish]

hi! i found your blog and i loved your cod hcs. can you do more gaz hcs, but basically abt how he is a husband/what it would be like to be his wife, please? thank you if you write it! :3

𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!𝐆𝐀𝐙 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

notes: hi!! i'm glad you like them <3 thanks for this request I LOVE THIS MAN

summary: general headcanons of gaz as a husband

cw: wife!reader, mentions of kids/pregnancy, i think that's it but lmk if i missed anything!!

౿ ۪ ݁ kyle will always, always wear his wedding ring — no matter how impractical it is. the metal is uncomfortable underneath his gloves, and digs into his skin even without them on. but to him, the pain is worth it. he doesn't see the golden band as just a ring, it's a symbol of the love he'd given you and a life you both shared. it's the promises he made to you, ones he has full intentions on keeping. it's a reminder that a part of you is always with him, even when you're worlds apart. one evening when he was home from deployment, you'd noticed the indents in his ring finger, skin rubbed raw from the friction. you managed to convince him to let you buy one of those silicone rings (yk??) and force him to wear it instead when he's working. kyle always keeps his actual wedding ring on the chain that holds his dog tags. he enjoys the cool metal against his chest, and that way, you're even closer to his heart.

this man is so so soft for you. of course, there's a few rocky points in your relationship because nobody is perfect, but you're the closest thing to it. you're perfect for him, and that's all that matters. you're the light of kyle's life. he constantly thinks about you whilst he's on the battlefield. your existence can give him enough determination to keep going and get through tough times. he needs to make it home to you, his angel, his wife. he tends to show his love in quieter ways. soft gazes and gentle kisses to your cheek or temple.

he splits the housework 50/50 when he's home with you. it's his one chance to live a relatively normal and domestic life, even if that means he's stuck washing the dishes or doing the laundry. something people don't talk about enough if how smart this man is. he's a genius on and off of the battlefield, which is why he's in charge of settling the finances and whatnot. kyle is very, very handy (years in the military exposed him to quite a few odd jobs) so you never have to worry about any of the utilities at the house. when something's out of order while he's home, he's fixing it as soon as you tell him. he makes sure to teach you along the way, surprisingly patient, so that you can fix it on your own in case he isn't around next time something is amiss.

insists on driving you everywhere you go when he's on leave, whether that be work, an appointment, the store.. anywhere. regardless of if you have your own license or not — your husband is your own personal chaperone. he claims it's because he wants to spend as much time with you as possible, but it's truly rooted in a deeper reasoning. kyle tends to worry a lot. he knows you're independent and capable (you kinda have to be when you're married to a military man) but he prefers to be there, just in case. he knows how the world works, how everything can change in one split second. kyle is very protective, not in a sense that he won't let you go out on your own, but if you are out together, he's always got to have some part of his body touching you. he's got a hand on the small of your back, your pinky intertwined with his own. he wants everyone to know that you're taken, you're his. it usually does a good job at keeping the creeps away.

this may seem odd, but kyle is a master at hair braiding. he'd gone through a few phases as a teenager, and learned how to do his own box braids. so, need help with your hair? he'd love to help. brushing your hair and helping you with your hair care is honestly one of his favorite things to do. when it's been a long day and he's too tired to do anything else, kyle will sit you down on the edge of your shared bed and pull you into his lap. he'll gently brush through your hair, taking time to be tender and careful as he works through particularly stubborn knots. "there you go, angel. all better." and he'd press a quick peck below your ear before putting your hair up into your usual nighttime style.

onto the topic of kids... i definitely see kyle wanting at least one or two of his own. not in a "must carry on the legacy" sort of way; but he'd always been good around children. having his own little family had always seemed like a distant dream until he married you, and you had your little girl. he made sure to take an extended leave when it got close to your due date so he'd be present and help you through postpartum and the newborn stages. kyle had done a crap ton of research beforehand, way back in the stages when you were still trying to conceive. he attended every single birthing class you went to (and did garner a few odd looks from the other mothers-to-be) so he'd be prepared for any scenario. going back to the topic of hair, your baby girl is born with curly hair like kyle. he wouldn't hesitate to teach you (if you didn't already know) how to care for her hair as she gets older and how to braid and style it on your own. after every single deployment, he makes sure to bring back some sort of trinket from overseas for his daughter. whether it's a handmade doll from the phillipines, or a unique bracelet from russia. overall, kyle is a very involved husband, especially when it comes to your child. it wouldn't take long for him to ask for one more.

[mvctavish]

hesdcanosn for graves and price where the reader is pretty bossy and kind of intimidating? for graves she's sort of the co-commander of shadow co. and for price she's the 141's medic

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄 - 𝐁𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐘!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐂𝐒

notes: i love this idea so so much you're a genius anon!! since the relationship wasn't specified... i just made the reader their wife... cuz it felt right to me. if u were hoping for platonic hcs or anything different don't be afraid to send in another ask and i'll do it!! anyways, happy reading <3

summary: (seperate) headcanons of graves and price with a bossy/intimidating wife

cw: wife!reader (for both), deputycommander!reader (for graves), medic!reader (for price), general war stuff idk, probably inaccuracies when it comes to the military/PMCs, reader is kind of bitchy, for price reader is mentioned to be at least smaller than him

cdr. phillip graves

౿ ۪ ݁ he's scared of you, and it's pretty obvious despite his attempts at hiding it. when you get mad, he gets all quiet and mutters a quick and respectful "yes ma'am" no matter what you request or say to him. it's rather funny seeing the commander so scared of his own wife. phillip has seen first-hand just how angry you can get when things don't go your way. the aftermath ain't pretty. while he knows you'd never actually hurt him (besides throw around a few choice words) he prefers to keep the peace at all costs. he hates seeing you upset, whether it's a mission gone sour or down to something little like him leaving the toilet seat up.

you two first met way back in the marines, fresh outta boot camp and ready to conquer the world. even then you were intimidating, a fiery attitude that could challenge the sargeant above you both. you ended up leaving the military when phillip did, and got married not long after. despite the fact that he'd much rather have you not risk your life — you were insistent on being part of shadow company when it was formed, and not behind the scenes.

as his deputy commander, you're right there by his side. the shadows are like family to both you and graves — they're your boys — but you aren't afraid to whip them into shape if necessary. some new recruits are being too rambunctious for your liking? you're giving a sharp, glaring look to your husband and he's quick to get them in line. it doesn't take long at all for them to learn to respect (and fear) you, perhaps even more than graves. you're a force to be reckoned with.

down to the more domestic aspects of your life, you're always on his ass about the upkeep of the house. when you're both home, the work is split 50/50 (which was a huge shock to graves at first since he's always been a bit more traditional) but he knows it's only fair since you both work. you like your house in pristine condition, down to the floorboards being dusted, to the lampshades being in just the right position. you're bossy about little things, like always pairing up the socks when they're taken out of the dryer or him rinsing his beard trimmings down the sink whenever he's done shaving. he knows you tend to get a little pissy when things aren't done exactly how you like them, so that's why graves makes sure he — and the shadows — always listen to your input.

capt. john price

౿ ۪ ݁ price is more impressed than anything. there's so much fire and spirit crammed into one small thing: you. it's funny to him, how most people you interact with can be so intimidated by you. you have the bossy attitude as an angry mother bear, yet can still be sweet when it's needed. price first met you when he was still a lieutenant, suffering from a bad injury on the field. you were the only combat medic on duty. he'd tried to convince you that he was fine — there were other men that needed your help, too, and that he could keep going — but you'd grabbed him by the ear and chewed him out. calling him a "damn fool with a death wish," and that if he wanted to live he'd "better listen to you and sit his ass down." he'd immediately gone quiet and did as he was told. price wasn't used to being spoken to like that, much less from someone of a lower rank. that was the moment he knew he had to have you, and the rest was history.

it took a while to gain your attention around base, and you were the reason he grew out his beard in the first place, after a passing comment that you'd made about how you thought it'd make him more rugged. it took time, but you were worth every second.

relationships in your line of work can be messy, and perhaps one of the worst aspects could be the judgment from others. in one interaction with a new face on base, you'd gotten into quite a heated argument. the guy thought you'd be easy picking, a way to make fun of you and show off in front of his new pals. your sharp tongue and quick insults resulted in the man leaving close to tears, whilst price watched round the corner with a little smirk on his face. deep down, he'd always worry about you. you were his wife, his woman, his world. it was only natural — but instances like that reminded him that you could stand up for yourself. you were strong and independent, and never let anyone walk all over you. you'd been a people pleaser in the past, but never again. you lived for yourself.

once task force 141 was formed, it's obvious that your husband recruited you to join as well. it was difficult, and he had to abuse a few loopholes in the policies to even be allowed to be your CO, but in the end, it worked. rounding back to the mama bear point, ghost, gaz, and soap quickly warm up to you. you're honestly the closest thing any of them have to a mum. a scary, bossy, picky one, but still a mum. your team's safety is your number one priority, and you certainly aren't afraid of getting your hands dirty both figuratively and literally. you keep the boys and price in line, constantly nagging about drinking water and insisting that they need to eat more than just a damn protein barn before a mission. MREs suck, but it's better than going hungry.

price lets you boss him round whenever you two are home from deployment. of course, on the battlefield, he's in charge. but home? it's a different story. the lawn needs to be mowed? you bet it'll be done by the evening. low on groceries? he's starting a list and planning to drive down to the shops. you and price never really get into any real arguments. he's seen you on the battlefield, frightening as you shout orders to anyone around as you're patching up an injured soldier — that sort of intensity is one he does everything to avoid seeing in you.

[mvctavish]

🫶

Call of Duty Men Comforting You

No matter the reason, I hope you have a better day

Price, Gaz, Soap, Ghost, Alex Keller, Konig, Alejandro, Rudy, Keegan

Captain John Price:

Sometimes it’s really embarrassing, I mean come on, he’s a very busy Captain always dipping in and out of combat. He seems to be on a dangerous mission every other week. His life is so much more troublesome compared to yours you feel. So why should you trouble him with your silly little emotions and your silly little fits. It feels ridiculous to even think about discussing it with him so you simply push it down and pretend you don’t feel it around him. But unfortunately for you, John is a perceptive man. He catches on to your dismissal almost immediately and of course he can’t just let it slide. Our beloved captain gives the most exquisite bear hugs. He’ll wrap you up tightly against his chest, sheltering you from whatever ails you. He plants kisses against your temple and rubs your shoulders and back while you’re cocooned against him. Words are not exchanged, John knows that he doesn’t need to speak to make you feel better. He may ask about it later when he feels you’re up to it but for now he’s content to sit with you in silence. He holds you like that for as long as you let him and even if you do try to pull away you don’t make it very far before he’s snatching you up again. You see, whenever he comes home and finds you in a state of upset, it sets him off kilter and he’s uneasy about leaving you alone for any period of time because he finds the thought of you in pain hard to stomach. Comforting you comforts him. You can also count on him being attached to your hip for the remainder of his stay too. He’ll cook dinner with you, rot on the couch with you, shower with you, and eventually curl up in bed with you too.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

Kyle is such a sweetheart and he’s so empathetic, he once cried simply because you were, though he’ll never admit it. He tunes his emotions to yours because he wants to understand you. He often feels that there’s this disconnect between himself and the rest of the world because of his occupation. You are his best influence of normalcy so he finds it necessary to know what you’re feeling. He goes about it in a manner that soothes you, careful to not make it seem like he’s trying to one-up you. He also tends to be very mellow around you. All this to say that his presence alone, the sound of his voice over the phone or the sight of him sitting next to you, is comforting. Partially because he knows that being vulnerable makes him relatable and partially because he’s Kyle. He likes to lay down with you, talk it out if you’re up to it, or just let you rest against his chest. He’ll comb through your hair and work the knots out of your shoulders. Sometimes he even coaxes you into a nap and he’s right there when you wake up, fingers still working through your hair. He likes to talk things through over dinner. Sitting across from each other, boxes of takeout strewn across the table. To be honest, he’s just trying to check all the boxes of things that could be adding to your distress. Hunger, sleep, quality time. In the back of his head he has to be reassured that all your physical needs are being met so that he can isolate the problem and make things better.

John “Soap” MacTavish:

Johnny dearest, spreads cheer like dandelions grow. It’s infectious. But when it comes to you being upset beyond the remedy of a few jokes, Johnny takes on a tenderness that’s tooth-rotting. “Oh lass, don’t cry. Things will get better in time, love.” He’s so gentle and soft that you almost don’t recognize the man in front of you. He also gives good hugs, but where Price lifts you up to cradle you, Johnny will flatten you into the sofa cushions or the bed. He’s a big fan of kissing. He also loves to nuzzle you, nose to nose, your cheek, your temple. He’s surprisingly good with words in these moments, but opting out of humor and going straight for the emotional connection. I guess I should say he’s good at reading the moment and figuring out what you need from him and making it easy to communicate with him. He’s also an expert at erasing any trace of judgement. There’s absolutely nothing to feel uncomfortable about discussing with him because he would never belittle you or make you feel like you didn’t have a reason to be upset.

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

Simon finds himself struggling a bit because he’s not very good with his own emotions so he’s got no clue how to help you with yours. That being said, Simon is on his knees for you. He’ll do anything to make you feel better. He starts with sitting you down and taking a knee in front of you. Then the mask comes off. He’ll cup your cheeks, thumbing away any tears, and try to read your eyes. Are you angry? Is this sadness? Maybe even just frustration? Whatever it is, he's determined to fix it. “Tell me what I need to do, love” If you reach for him, he’s scooping you up and rocking you gently in his lap. If you just want to talk he’ll wait for you like that on his knees the entire time. He’ll press his forehead to yours, his arms dropping to your waist. It’s intimate and in the moment it only makes you closer. Simon figures he hurts enough in silence for the both of you so he’s like Price in that aspect of you also hurting being unbearable. And imagine with me for a short second, if Simon could carry a tune. Just picture it. Imagine being tangled in his arms, he’s got no idea what to say, so he hums a soft melody instead, maybe even sings a few words. His chest vibrates with the deep sound, his lips moving against your cheek. He doesn’t give himself enough credit for how comforting he can be.

Konig:

Oh the big man, good for cuddling. He’ll be knocked out on the couch, head tilted back at an angle that surely can’t be comfortable. You climb onto his lap and lay your head against his chest; his arms are curling around you before he’s even awake, set on holding you no matter what state of consciousness. “Süße?” He grumbles, confused. His chin comes to rest on the top of your head and as soon as he realizes what’s going on he replaces it with his cheek. “Long day too?” One of his hands trails up and down your back protectively. He’ll kick his feet up and recline with you, letting sleep drain the stress from both of you. If the situation requires more care, Konig will literally cradle you in his arms. He kisses your forehead and tries to coax an explanation out of you. He just wants to know how best to help you. Konig reminds of Simon in the sense that he is also pretty helpless in these instances. Konig is made for war, and before you that was all that he did. Now he is trying to grow accustomed to a new gentleness that having a relationship requires. So excuse him if he’s awkward about it at first. He really does try and the effort is very obvious. Now hear me out, Konig has amassed a good collection of poetry and short stories. He's got a loud and horrifically exciting job so he likes to come home and sit down with a good poem and just ponder for a bit. (He also uses it to study English). He’ll read you some of his favorites from time to time. He’s got an excellent narrating voice, especially with the short stories. You’ll lay against his chest while he reads to you, the sound of him lulling you into a doze. After a while he looks down at you and sees you struggling to stay awake. He’ll cup your head and kiss your nose before covering you with a blanket and picking up where he left off.

Alex Keller:

Mr. Keller, ever the saint, comforts like a dream. He just always has the correct hunch about what you need from him. Let’s say it’s been a rough go for you and you come home somehow after him, and you’re at the end of your rope. Dinner is on the table, and there’s dessert too. And Alex is fresh out of the shower and he just looks so good and then he’s hugging you, “I know, baby, I know.” He says as plants a kiss on your forehead. You could cry then and there. “Let’s get you something to eat, yeah?” Before you know you’re sitting across from him and walking through your day with him. He asks all the right questions. Has all the right answers. It’s honestly just so relieving that he seems to know exactly what to do. You wonder where he learned it. You don’t get a chance to ask because as soon as the last bite of dessert is in your mouth he’s wrapping you up in a blanket and snuggling up to you on the couch. You talk some more as he turns on one of your favorite shows. And then things quiet down for the evening. Now if there are tears, if there’s a break down happening, just know that you’re never getting this man off of you. You practically get mummified in his hold. He’s arguably the best at helping you calm down. “Take a breath for me honey. Atta girl–” He holds your hands, his thumb rubbing circles into the backs of them as he defuses your emotions. Once you catch your breath, then he’s all over you.

Alejandro Vargas:

Alejandro strikes me as emotionally intelligent to a level that’s almost scary. He handles any sort of emotional flare either you or life throws at him with grace. It’s almost irritating. If you get angry and fly off the handle, he’s calm as a cucumber. Grief never seems to weigh him down. That being said, he’s so well put together that it almost makes you feel childish to be emotional. You try to keep a cap on it this time around and of course he notices. It does not fly. Alejandro wrangles you into a hug and sways gently back and forth, “It’s better if you tell me what’s wrong before I have to make you talk.” He teases. You answer him with a grunt. “C’mon, you can tell me anything, you should know with how much I love you that I would never let you go on like this.” You slump against him, resigned to let him help you. He also gives exceptional advice and can coach you through a lot of things. But he also knows when you need him to listen. A good and proper therapy boyfriend. He’s got several of his mother’s recipes that he keeps on hand too. Comfort food that heals the soul. He also tells a riveting story and will chat at you while he cooks for you. He also loves a good drive to cool down and if you’re up for it the two of you will cruise all over. Sometimes he drives until you fall asleep in the seat next to him, or you park on a hilltop and stargaze, or sometimes it ends with the both of you singing to the songs of the radio. But it only ends when you’re finally refreshed.

Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra:

Ever the loyal one, Rudy finds it hard to leave your side at any given moment let alone when something has upset you. In this case, it was him being prepared to burn to death while chasing Hassan. He knows he can’t not do his job, but seeing your tears absolutely rips him to pieces. “You almost died, Rudy.”

“I know and I’m sorry.” He reaches out to you but you just stand there, it breaks him even more.

You chew your lip and fold your arms, “I know you’re dedicated to your job, and I love that about you but was that really worth your life?”

Rudy takes a deep breath, reaching for you again, “If it keeps you safe, then yes, always.” This time you let him reel you in. It makes you feel even worse to hurt him but seeing the bruises he got from getting shot in his vest, the blood caked in his hair, the rasp in his voice from the smoke, it was all too much. You always worry and he always does his best to reassure you, but actually seeing the evidence of bullets hitting his body really rocks your world. Any sense of reassurance you had for his safety is gone when you realize just how easily he could slip through your fingers. Warm hands cup your jaw. You meet the intense gaze of Rudy’s glossy brown eyes, feel his breath fan across your lips. “You are always my priority, and in my line of work, sometimes that means paying with either my life or my conscience. Know that I love you and that is why I do what I do.”

Keegan “Bova” Russ:

It may seem like Keegan would be annoyed with you for being upset but more than anything, Keegan is very flattered when you express emotions around him. He will get salty if you try to hide it from him, not salty at you but at himself. He knows he can sometimes be condescending and he gets angry at himself when it makes you shy about things. His remedy is to be unusually soft with you during this time. Imagine laying down, staring at the ceiling in careful contemplation. And then Keegan’s weight drops onto the mattress beside you. You lay in silence, arms folded, and just stare for what seems like eternity. Keegan reaches out and wedges his fingers between yours. Your palms fit perfectly together. “Wanna talk about what’s going on?” His thumb rubs soothingly over your knuckles. “No.” “Alright, what can I do for you then?” When you look over at him, he’s already looking back. You’ve always thought his eyes were unbelievably pretty, especially now when they’re filled with tenderness. You roll towards him and like a magnet he reaches to take you in his arms. He tucks you protectively into his chest and massages your nape. “I’ve got you.” He whispers. Keegan runs warm and the contours of his body perfectly mold to you. It’s almost like he was made for this.

It’s another thing when you cry. It feels like someone is squeezing his heart in their fist. It feels like torture to him. Everything he does out there, out in the field, on missions, everything is so that this does not happen. So you don’t get hurt. Yet this entire situation is unpreventable. There’s nothing he could have done to stop it and he hates feeling so helpless. A tentative palm comes to rest on your cheek. A shaking thumb brushes from the soft inner corner of your eye to the rise of your cheekbone. Keegan swallows hard, teeth worrying his lip, and tries to figure out what to say. In the end it winds up the same way, Keegan sheltering you against his body because that’s all he really knows how to give.

Dear Reader,

Hello and thank you for reading this post. If you enjoyed and would like to see some more please feel free to drop by my ask box. Have a nice day,

-the author

[mvctavish]

𝐑𝐄𝐃-𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃

pairing: john price x medic!reader

notes: ok i know i said i won't be able to post until later in the week but this came to me in a dream and i must share my suffering. i will get to most of the requests this week!! there's a lot more than i originally thought i'd get so it may be a little while

summary: you were one of the best medics in the game. you never lost a soldier you worked on, so what happens when you can't handle the first death on your hands? price tries his best to be there in the moment to guide you — you're a valued member of his team, and he'd be damned if he let the grief suffocate you.

cw: f!medic!reader, blood n gore (general war stuff idk), minor character death (not price or reader), grief, probably medical inaccuracies, hints of pining (from price), some other heavy themes, NOT proofread cause i don't have time i'm sorry! wc: 1.2k

JOHN PRICE had known you for years. You were a capable soldier, and an even better combat medic. Your record was clean. Recruiting you into Task Force 141 had been a very easy and quick decision when it was first formed, and you'd been part of the team ever since. It definitely didn't have anything to do with the fact that the Captain fancied you.

Many new sides of you were revealed to Price now that he was your commanding officer — all of them valuable in their own right. You weren't one to let yourself be pushed around. You had a backbone, and a strong attitude. You weren't afraid to speak your mind — especially when it came to the health and safety of your boys. It was admirable, really. You were practically a mama bear, protective yet soft when needed, truly caring for your teammates and any other soldiers. You always completed objectives to a T, going above and beyond.

But the sight of you now was staggering.

Erratic, panicked, and - for lack of better words - unhinged were the best way to describe you. Your shaking, blood-soaked fingers pressed down hard against slick skin, your breaths panting like a rabid animal. Your gloves had been discarded, and various random supplies has split from your bag when you'd unzipped it to grab the necessities.

It was supposed to be a simple cleaning house mission. Nothing out of the ordinary, but a private had gotten caught in a nasty crossfire — and the result was a bullet skimming the carotid artery in his neck. Even in a proper hospital, a wound like that has a high mortality rate. It's useless, you know, but you've never lost a soldier before. He is not going to be the first.You'd dragged his limp body by the vest and down a hall into cover, immediately dropping to your knees to get to work.

There was blood, so much blood. The copper stench burned your nostrils, causing your hands to grow slippery as you desperately tried to put enough pressure onto the bullet wound to slow the bleeding. Red continued to pour forth, slipping through the cracks in your fingers. “Fuck!” You cursed, chest heaving with your labored breathing. “Come on, goddamn it!” Your voice cracked, one bloody hand gently cupping the soldier's jaw. Your fingers left splotchy marks on his pallid skin, red staining practically everything. “Stay with me, yeah? ‘M gonna fix this. ‘M gonna fix this. It's okay.” Your voice was shaking, and you hadn't even realized the tears that stained the apples of your heated cheeks until the salty tang hit your tongue.

It felt like an eternity, pressing gauze down against the wound, squeezing, doing anything you could think of in your adrenaline high. Fingers trembled, fumbling with the now pink-tinted gauze, the fabric barely stable in your grasp. The raspy, pained breathing of the private had long since halted, but the blood rushing in your ears rendered you deaf to the outside world. A panicked cry escaped you as you shifted on your knees, both hands still pressing against the wound. Tears flow down your cheeks and you choke- a strong hand grips one of your wrists, trying to pry it away. You're insistent, struggling against him as he crouched beside you.

“Let ‘em go, love.” The gravelly voice is familiar, though riddled with seriousness and firmness. He knew this was going to take a while, which was why he'd let Simon take charge, but nothing could've prepared him for the state you're in now. “He's gone.”

“No, no, no!” You sobbed uncontrollably, and it frightens Price. This was unlike the woman he knew - the one he'd fallen for - once level-headed and strong. You're crumbling. It's then that Price firmly grips both of your wrists, using the leverage to yank your entire being away from the body. The air is knocked out of you as you're jerked backwards against the solid plate of Price's armor, falling against his strong form and staying limp.

Price's heart lurches at the sight of you, hands and sleeves stained with blood — not to mention the fingerprints painted across your forehead and jaw, no doubt from you trying to brush your hair out of your face. “You're okay,” Price's voice is still firm, trying to ground you as one of his arms wrap around your back, the other cradling your head. Your body is practically draped across his legs, form shaking with the intensity of your emotions.

"He was just a kid!” You cried out, voice hoarse.

“I know,” Price replied, hand slipping from the back of your helmet to rest on the nape of your neck, fingers gently massaging the skin there in hopes of offering a semblance of comfort. “I'm sorry. You did your best, that's all that matters.”

You sob again, and he tightens his hold around you. The hand on the back of your neck stills and he gently pulls you back to sit you up. Price's gloved hands are quick to cradle your face, forcing your eyes to remain on him and not the lifeless corpse just a meter behind you. His thumbs swipe across your cheeks, collecting crystalline tears and thick blood. “Breathe with me.” His chest rises with a deep inhale through the nose. He holds. Then, releases through his mouth. Price repeated the boxing breaths as long as it took, his fingers gently digging little indents into your cheeks, hoping that the gentle pressure will help pull you back to reality and ground you.

“C'mon, you can do it, love. Yeah, there you go.” A faint smile crosses Price's features when you finally manage to match his breaths, skin crinkling around his eyes. “Good girl.”

The flight back to base is silent between you and Price. The whirling blades of the helo were barely audible with your headset on, muffling the noises around you. It's time like this, when things are quiet and still, that your thoughts get the best of you again. You were not good enough. You are not good enough. If you'd been quicker, thought smarter, and didn't let your panic get the best of you, then maybe-

You're nudged gently, ripped from your doubts, and you look to your left to see Price gazing down at you. There's visible worry in his azure eyes. Words don't need to be passed for the captain to know you're at a breaking point. One of your knees is bouncing, and the grip you have on your seat belt is strong and firm, tension lingering in your body. Price clenched his jaw, catching onto the look you yourself wore. He reached for your hand with his left, glove rubbing against glove as you took hold, his steady grip encasing your own. You look to the flooring of the helicopter, brows furrowing as a tightness in your chest explodes. Your head moved quickly, burying your face against your captain's shoulder. Price freezes, caught off-guard, though he recovers in mere seconds. His free hand wrapped around his front, palm coming to rest over the side of your face to shield you from the prying eyes of the others in the helo.

He knows this ordeal is weighing on you, and the mental burdens you carried outweighed any injuries you could've sustained. Healing will take time, but you won't be alone.

[mvctavish]

hiii! i want to say a quick thank you to everyone who sent in requests 🧸 i will (hopefully) get them done next week! i won't be able to post anything this weekend (as i work from 5am to 5pm) but if y'all have any more requests please try to send them in soon so i can add them to my to-do list!

[mvctavish]

my husbands

two of them.

[mvctavish]

part 2 coming soon?? 🙈

idk if u do platonic requests but can u write like a drabble of simon riley and a daughter!reader where she has separation anxiety

𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐗𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x daughter!reader

notes: hi!! this is my first request ever, so tysm! i love this idea and platonic requests are more than welcome ^-^ i do have to say a quick disclaimer: i am not an expert on separation anxiety, so don't take any of this as fact or advice.

summary: during your childhood, simon often noticed how clingy you were. it wasn't necessary a bad thing (since it ensured you'd never wander off or get lost) but it seemed abnormal. as you got older, it became abundantly clear that you suffered from separation anxiety. it was tough, especially when he had to be deployed.

cw: daughter!reader, my bad writing, descriptions of anxiety and anxiety attacks, reader cries, angst, hurt/comfort-esque fic, mentions of riley (the dog), reader's age isn't specified, word count: 1.3k

SIMON RILEY never thought he'd be a good father. It was in his blood, he told himself, destined to be a grade-A asshole like his own dad. However, when you came along, his whole world shifted. You were the product of a one-night stand and entirely unexpected, but you quickly became the most precious part of Simon's life. From the moment he first held you in his arms in the hospital room, he knew he could never, ever hurt you. You were his perfect baby girl, and he'd gladly die and kill for you if it meant you'd be safe from harm.

Raising a kid on his own wasn't easy by any means. Who would've thought a hardened lieutenant would spend his afternoons playing tea parties and barbie dolls and beanie boos? You were the one thing that kept him going. Whenever times got tough, whenever Simon found himself in a grueling situation on the battlefield - you were what lingered on the back of his mind. He had to make it home to you.

As you got older, and your personality warped into a unique soul, one thing stood out. Your separation anxiety. You tried therapy and journaling and breathing exercises and just about every coping mechanism under the sun. It helped, but not on days when Simon would leave. His work kept him away for months at a time, leaving you a nervous wreck that rarely left your room.

Simon hated leaving you, knowing just how much distress it caused you. But unfortunately, life wasn't fair, and he had to make sacrifices. His job was one of those. After years of dealing with your anxiety, he'd learn the best ways to cope with it. Telling you days in advance of his deployment never helped, as you were stuck stressing yourself out and marking the days on your calendar like a countdown to the end of the world. Simon preferred to tell you the day of his departure. It was at least a little easier that way.

The door to his bedroom was left cracked open so Riley could enter and exit as he pleased. The old German Shepherd often made rounds around the apartment, so Simon didn't think much of it as he packed up. He'd only been home for five days, but a call from Price let it known that he'd be needed soon. Simon always, always hated leaving you, but he knew it had to be done.

His black duffel bag sat atop his freshly made bed, unzipped and being filled up with clothes and other necessities like his toothbrush and whatnot. It was still early in the morning, the sunlight just barely beginning to filter in through the half-opened blackout curtains on the window. He hadn't even started to brew his early morning coffee, head fuzzy from sleep. It was quiet and peaceful, for a few passing moments.

Simon's trained ears quickly picked up on a soft gasp of breath. He froze his movements, waiting (it wouldn't be the first time his mind was playing tricks on him). It wasn't until the sounds of shallowed, sharp little breaths did his heart sink. He knew that sound all too well. You were standing in the doorway, clearly having caught your dad packing up for deployment.

“Dad?”

Your voice, small and shaky, is what finally made Simon step into action. He crossed the bedroom in a few long strides, quickly taking you into his arms as your eyes well with tears. This was exactly why he hated leaving. It made his chest ache, his heart hurt, seeing his child so torn up because of him.

“Shhh, it's alright, yeah?” His voice is uncharacteristically soft, a deep timbre taking on a gentle tone made for you alone. One hand cradles the back of your head, fingers delicately brushing through your sleep-tousled hair. The other rests on the small of your back, his hold on you strong and tight but not suffocating. He'd done this dance a thousand times before, comforting you when you need it most. “I'm right here, sunshine, I'm not going anywhere.” Yet.

Hazel eyes darted down to look at you. It's then that he realized your gaze was still focused on his duffel bag, tears trickling down your flushed cheeks in thick globs. Simon was leaving. Your dad was leaving soon, but you needed him home. You were shaking, trembling hands clutching onto the front of his wrinkled sleep shirt. It's quiet. He counted your breaths, coming in and out far too rapidly. Your heart was aching, and your chest felt too tight, making each breath painful. You couldn't get enough air in your lungs, even as you let out a pitiful sob.

Simon's heart shattered at the sound. His daughter, his sunshine, was in pain. You hadn't had an anxiety attack this bad in months. He clenched his jaw as he carefully dropped to his knees, knowing the smallest of movements could startle you. “Look at me.”

When you don't listen right away, his hands, calloused from years of training and military work, come to cradle your cheeks. His touch is soft and tender, handling you like a porcelain doll. “Hey,” Simon speaks again, the single word sounding just a bit more serious than before. Sometimes, a firmer hand is needed. He gently guides you to look at him, teary, red eyes meeting his own. His grip on your cheeks keeps your head in place, not allowing you to look anywhere but at him.

“Take deep breaths, baby,” Simon coaxed, inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling through chapped lips, hoping you'd soon follow suit. His thumbs gently brushed under your eyes, collecting your tears and wiping them away. He keeps up the slow breathing. “I'm here. I'm right here. You're not alone, sunshine. It's okay.”

“I don't-” you choke on a breath, more tears replacing the ones he'd just wiped away. Another sob falls from your lips. “I don't want you to leave.”

God, the sight of you nearly breaks him. He's a soldier, but you're his weakness. Your brows furrowed, eyes widened, and your chin quivering. Simon feels his throat grow tight as you gasp and struggle for breath. “I don't want to leave, either,” He states, thumbs rubbing the apple of your cheeks to try and ground you. Your hands reach up, gripping onto his wrists. If it weren't for his focus of trying to calm you down, your nails digging crescents into his bare skin would've been painful. He didn't mention it. If that's what you needed, then let it be.

“But I have to, baby. I swear to you, I am always comin’ back home to you.” His thumbs keep working, wiping away each tear they can manage. “You need to calm down. Deep breaths.” And Simon continues the breathing he'd done before.

“I can't-”

“Yes, you can.”

It was easier said than done. The anxiety you felt swallowed you whole, trapping you in a headspace that was hard to escape from. It occupied your every thought, tainting each happy moment and turning it sour. Despite your doubts, you did your best to breathe, chest heaving and hiccuping until you managed. All the while, Simon held you and whispered gentle praises.

“There we go,” Simon whispered, wiping away the remainder of your tears. “Good job.”

Your cheeks were wet and splotchy, sticky tear streaks staining your skin. The rims of your eyes were red and puffy, and your breath still stuttered every once in a while, but you had managed to pull yourself up from the throes of your anxiety attack. Simon remained in front of you, thick brows furrowed in worry as his hands left your cheeks, resting on your arms. His hands rubbed up and down, soothing you completely and keeping you present in the moment.

“I know you don't want me to leave, I know you're scared,” Simon continued after a few beats of silence. “It's alright to be scared, sunshine, but this is something that I have to do. You won't be alone when I'm gone, and I'll call you and text you every day as many times as I can. How's that sound? Good?”

When you nodded, his lips twitched, forming a brief remnant of a smile. “Good.” He repeated and nodded as well. “Now, what d’you want for breakfast?”

[mvctavish]

haiii!! random question but would you ever consider making c.ai bots???

hi! possibly? i don't really use c.ai cause it kind of scares me 😭 i suppose that maybe in the future, if enough people are interested, i could make a few.

[mvctavish]

𝐓𝐅 𝟏𝟒𝟏 - 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓

summary: headcanons for each members' reaction to you telling them you're pregnant

cw: afab!reader, pregnancy (duh), mentions of pregnancy symptoms (like nausea, vomiting) but nothing graphic, slight angst for some parts, established relationship, mentions of sex (?)

capt. john price

౿ ۪ ݁ honestly? price couldn't be happier. he always thought of himself as a family man, seeing himself as a father of (hopefully) many kids. he's overjoyed as you greet him when he gets home from a long and grueling deployment, wanting nothing more than to relax in your arms and go to sleep in his own bed. however, when you say the words "i'm pregnant" and showcase the sonogram, his heart nearly triples in size. that's his baby. you're carrying his baby, and he swears this is the best moment of his entire life. he whispers praises in your ear as he holds you tight, a large and heavy hand gently resting on your abdomen, thumb stroking your skin the fabric of your - his - shirt. he's truly never been happier. you, his darling girl, is harboring a precious life that blossomed from your love for each other. you just know he's going to be the best father your kid could hope for.

sgt. kyle "gaz" garrick

౿ ۪ ݁ kyle doesn't know what to say at first. he was the one that convinced you to take a pregnancy test in the first place - you'd been nauseous and fatigued for the past few days, and he noticed. he noticed each and every thing about you, from your slightly irritable mood to the tiny changes of your body. he never expected the test to come back positive, the two little lines on the stick staring up at the both of you. he's scared, just as scared as you, but he knows he needs to stay strong, at least for now. "it's gonna be alright, angel," he'd reassure you, taking your form into an embrace. he's oh so gentle, handling you like porcelain now that he knows his baby is growing in your womb. "we'll get through this together, ya hear, love?" he kisses your forehead. whatever you decide to do, he's there for you. despite his initial fears, the thought of having a baby with you excites him. you best bet that if you aren't married already, you'll have a ring on your finger by the end of the week.

sgt. john "soap" mactavish

౿ ۪ ݁ johnny has never felt so unprepared in his life. he's always so, so careful with you, hoping to avoid situations like... this. it's not that he's upset, no, he isn't angry. just unprepared. he doesn't feel fit to be a father, not yet. it's a lot of responsibility and an entire lifetime of commitment - and johnny doesn't want to let down his future child. though, the more he thinks about it, the more he begins to warm up to the idea of fatherhood. maybe you'll have a little lass with his eyes and your fiery attitude, or perhaps a lad with your nose and his spunk - whoever your child ends up being, he knows he'll love them unconditionally. just as he loves you. it does take him a few weeks to come around. at first, he'd drink his worries away at the pub, ranting to ghost or whomever else will listen. he's just stressed, and that stress never really goes away, but a stronger feeling of pride and excitement takes over. he's going to be a da! he knows you'll be a damn good mother, and he even takes an extra long leave to help around the house. he doesn't want you to lift a finger while you're pregnant (even though you're not even showing yet). before the baby is even born, he proves himself to be a very capable father.

lt. simon "ghost" riley

౿ ۪ ݁ when you break the news to him, simon is instantly afraid. memories of his own childhood come flooding back to him, and a new fear settles inside of him. he's always been afraid of turning out like his old man, and now that you're pregnant with his baby, there's a whole nother person that he could let down. he doesn't want that to happen - doesn't want his baby to suffer as he'd done. he makes a silent promise, both to you and the baby, that he'd always be there and present. he loves you more than anything, but the revelation has him growing distant for the first few months. whenever you bring up the topic of possible baby names, or ask to look at clothes at the shops, he tenses and responds in very short answers. it's abundantly clear that he's scared, and you don't really blame him. it isn't until you speak to him in the privacy and safety of your shared bedroom does he confess. "i'm just worried about turning into my father," his voice is uncharacteristically quiet, light eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he tries to blink away some unshed tears. "i don't want to hurt you, bunny, or the baby." he glances down at your abdomen, and you guide your hand to it. you have to reassure him many times that he's nothing like his father. it isn't until he comes with you to one of your appointments that he finally accepts that as a fact. when he hears your baby's heartbeat on the monitor, he knows deep in his heart that he'd do anything to protect you both.

[mvctavish]

idk if u do platonic requests but can u write like a drabble of simon riley and a daughter!reader where she has separation anxiety

𝐒𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐗𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x daughter!reader

notes: hi!! this is my first request ever, so tysm! i love this idea and platonic requests are more than welcome ^-^ i do have to say a quick disclaimer: i am not an expert on separation anxiety, so don't take any of this as fact or advice.

summary: during your childhood, simon often noticed how clingy you were. it wasn't necessary a bad thing (since it ensured you'd never wander off or get lost) but it seemed abnormal. as you got older, it became abundantly clear that you suffered from separation anxiety. it was tough, especially when he had to be deployed.

cw: daughter!reader, my bad writing, descriptions of anxiety and anxiety attacks, reader cries, angst, hurt/comfort-esque fic, mentions of riley (the dog), reader's age isn't specified, word count: 1.3k

SIMON RILEY never thought he'd be a good father. It was in his blood, he told himself, destined to be a grade-A asshole like his own dad. However, when you came along, his whole world shifted. You were the product of a one-night stand and entirely unexpected, but you quickly became the most precious part of Simon's life. From the moment he first held you in his arms in the hospital room, he knew he could never, ever hurt you. You were his perfect baby girl, and he'd gladly die and kill for you if it meant you'd be safe from harm.

Raising a kid on his own wasn't easy by any means. Who would've thought a hardened lieutenant would spend his afternoons playing tea parties and barbie dolls and beanie boos? You were the one thing that kept him going. Whenever times got tough, whenever Simon found himself in a grueling situation on the battlefield - you were what lingered on the back of his mind. He had to make it home to you.

As you got older, and your personality warped into a unique soul, one thing stood out. Your separation anxiety. You tried therapy and journaling and breathing exercises and just about every coping mechanism under the sun. It helped, but not on days when Simon would leave. His work kept him away for months at a time, leaving you a nervous wreck that rarely left your room.

Simon hated leaving you, knowing just how much distress it caused you. But unfortunately, life wasn't fair, and he had to make sacrifices. His job was one of those. After years of dealing with your anxiety, he'd learn the best ways to cope with it. Telling you days in advance of his deployment never helped, as you were stuck stressing yourself out and marking the days on your calendar like a countdown to the end of the world. Simon preferred to tell you the day of his departure. It was at least a little easier that way.

The door to his bedroom was left cracked open so Riley could enter and exit as she pleased. The old German Shepherd often made rounds around the apartment, so Simon didn't think much of it as he packed up. He'd only been home for five days, but a call from Price let it known that he'd be needed soon. Simon always, always hated leaving you, but he knew it had to be done.

His black duffel bag sat atop his freshly made bed, unzipped and being filled up with clothes and other necessities like his toothbrush and whatnot. It was still early in the morning, the sunlight just barely beginning to filter in through the half-opened blackout curtains on the window. He hadn't even started to brew his early morning coffee, head fuzzy from sleep. It was quiet and peaceful, for a few passing moments.

Simon's trained ears quickly picked up on a soft gasp of breath. He froze his movements, waiting (it wouldn't be the first time his mind was playing tricks on him). It wasn't until the sounds of shallowed, sharp little breaths did his heart sink. He knew that sound all too well. You were standing in the doorway, clearly having caught your dad packing up for deployment.

“Dad?”

Your voice, small and shaky, is what finally made Simon step into action. He crossed the bedroom in a few long strides, quickly taking you into his arms as your eyes well with tears. This was exactly why he hated leaving. It made his chest ache, his heart hurt, seeing his child so torn up because of him.

“Shhh, it's alright, yeah?” His voice is uncharacteristically soft, a deep timbre taking on a gentle tone made for you alone. One hand cradles the back of your head, fingers delicately brushing through your sleep-tousled hair. The other rests on the small of your back, his hold on you strong and tight but not suffocating. He'd done this dance a thousand times before, comforting you when you need it most. “I'm right here, sunshine, I'm not going anywhere.” Yet.

Hazel eyes darted down to look at you. It's then that he realized your gaze was still focused on his duffel bag, tears trickling down your flushed cheeks in thick globs. Simon was leaving. Your dad was leaving soon, but you needed him home. You were shaking, trembling hands clutching onto the front of his wrinkled sleep shirt. It's quiet. He counted your breaths, coming in and out far too rapidly. Your heart was aching, and your chest felt too tight, making each breath painful. You couldn't get enough air in your lungs, even as you let out a pitiful sob.

Simon's heart shattered at the sound. His daughter, his sunshine, was in pain. You hadn't had an anxiety attack this bad in months. He clenched his jaw as he carefully dropped to his knees, knowing the smallest of movements could startle you. “Look at me.”

When you don't listen right away, his hands, calloused from years of training and military work, come to cradle your cheeks. His touch is soft and tender, handling you like a porcelain doll. “Hey,” Simon speaks again, the single word sounding just a bit more serious than before. Sometimes, a firmer hand is needed. He gently guides you to look at him, teary, red eyes meeting his own. His grip on your cheeks keeps your head in place, not allowing you to look anywhere but at him.

“Take deep breaths, baby,” Simon coaxed, inhaling deeply through his nose and exhaling through chapped lips, hoping you'd soon follow suit. His thumbs gently brushed under your eyes, collecting your tears and wiping them away. He keeps up the slow breathing. “I'm here. I'm right here. You're not alone, sunshine. It's okay.”

“I don't-” you choke on a breath, more tears replacing the ones he'd just wiped away. Another sob falls from your lips. “I don't want you to leave.”

God, the sight of you nearly breaks him. He's a soldier, but you're his weakness. Your brows furrowed, eyes widened, and your chin quivering. Simon feels his throat grow tight as you gasp and struggle for breath. “I don't want to leave, either,” He states, thumbs rubbing the apple of your cheeks to try and ground you. Your hands reach up, gripping onto his wrists. If it weren't for his focus of trying to calm you down, your nails digging crescents into his bare skin would've been painful. He didn't mention it. If that's what you needed, then let it be.

“But I have to, baby. I swear to you, I am always comin’ back home to you.” His thumbs keep working, wiping away each tear they can manage. “You need to calm down. Deep breaths.” And Simon continues the breathing he'd done before.

“I can't-”

“Yes, you can.”

It was easier said than done. The anxiety you felt swallowed you whole, trapping you in a headspace that was hard to escape from. It occupied your every thought, tainting each happy moment and turning it sour. Despite your doubts, you did your best to breathe, chest heaving and hiccuping until you managed. All the while, Simon held you and whispered gentle praises.

“There we go,” Simon whispered, wiping away the remainder of your tears. “Good job.”

Your cheeks were wet and splotchy, sticky tear streaks staining your skin. The rims of your eyes were red and puffy, and your breath still stuttered every once in a while, but you had managed to pull yourself up from the throes of your anxiety attack. Simon remained in front of you, thick brows furrowed in worry as his hands left your cheeks, resting on your arms. His hands rubbed up and down, soothing you completely and keeping you present in the moment.

“I know you don't want me to leave, I know you're scared,” Simon continued after a few beats of silence. “It's alright to be scared, sunshine, but this is something that I have to do. You won't be alone when I'm gone, and I'll call you and text you every day as many times as I can. How's that sound? Good?”

When you nodded, his lips twitched, forming a brief remnant of a smile. “Good.” He repeated and nodded as well. “Now, what d’you want for breakfast?”

[mvctavish]

𝐌𝐕𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

all of my works ༉‧₊˚  .

ꢾ୧ = my faves

★ = sfw

✶ = suggestive

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄 𝟏𝟒𝟏

★ nicknames they have for you

★ finding out you're pregnant

𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊

★ husband!gaz

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄

★ ꢾ୧ bossy!reader

𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐏 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒

★ ꢾ୧ bossy!reader

𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄

★ red-handed (medic!reader)

𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

★ separation anxiety (daughter!reader)

more works in progress...

© 𝐌𝐕𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇 2025.

[mvctavish]

𝐓𝐅 𝟏𝟒𝟏 - 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

summary: my personal headcanons for the nicknames/petnames that each member has for you

cw: fem!reader, established relationship, not proofread, my first post on here!!

capt. john price

౿ ۪ ݁ he's a fairly simple and traditional man, so i think he'd prefer good old-fashioned petnames like darling or love. sometimes lovey if he's feeling extra affectionate. he loves to call you dove or doll, because that's exactly what you are: his beautiful girl whom he can spoil. he also likes things like his sweet girl, and if you're married, he'll often refer to you as simply "the missus" when he's talking about you to his task force. sunshine.

sgt. kyle "gaz" garrick

౿ ۪ ݁ more often than not, he'll call you angel. it's his go-to, because to him, you might as well have fallen from the heavens. occasionally, kyle will use baby or babe, though, that's only when he's tired or frustrated. love and sweetheart are also commonly heard.

sgt. john "soap" mactavish

౿ ۪ ݁ i feel like it's a globally accepted headcanon that johnny calls his lover bonnie and lass. when he's in a silly mood, he might occasional call you baby girl. he likes calling you doll or dolly, and other variations of that word like babydoll. he's just so much stronger than you, he could treat you like one if he really wanted. if he's trying to make you mad he'll call you peach. no explanation, it just feels right.

lt. simon "ghost" riley

౿ ۪ ݁ i don't feel like simon would call you baby/bae/babe. he prefers nicknames similar to the ones price uses. love, lovely, sweetheart. if he's teasing you, he'll like to call you his princess. another name i can see him using is bun or bunny, he loves to see you blush when he uses it.

[mvctavish]

get to know me !

ethel/ettie, she/her, eighteen+, amateur writer, chronically online, captain mactavish's wife, graves defender

faves !

soap, graves, price ꢾ୧

basic guidelines !

16+ only, basic dni criteria, open to requests for drabbles/headcanons/one-shots, no smut (though suggestive themes are allowed), currently only writing for call of duty characters, send in asks about anything! masterlist. more works coming soon...

© 𝐌𝐕𝐂𝐓𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇 2025.