#and asks when they’re gonna get gaz back ?

[charliemwrites]

In this 1fur1 au….may I raise you wolf!price? The dog/man basically struts right into your home out of the woods and immediately takes his place as pack leader. It doesn’t matter that you’re supposed to be the one giving orders, price is in charge now.

You want to get off the couch and away from the mass of cuddles? Absolutely not. Price will be giving you a look so domineering you are sitting right back down no questions asked. He has you well trained ;)

The others don’t seem to mind the new addition either, making way for a new top dog. Price is quiet and doesn’t cause trouble, but if you’re late home be prepared to face his doggy wrath

Okay, so I love this concept, but I’m gonna raise you one - and write a new part for it.

(Don’t worry, Gaz is coming soon. This ask just really spoke to me lol).

This is also a part 1 — part 2 coming soon.

Three fuck-off sized wolf dogs is a lot. Like, a lot. There’s the fur, the food, the playtime. And then just the sheer clinginess. You’ve always thought of yourself as a dog person, that they just naturally are drawn to you because you tend to be quiet and respectful of boundaries.

Your boys though. They’re something else. Johnny was the easiest of the three to acclimate to your household. When it was just the two of you, bonding and learning him was easy. Whoever had him first had already done a lot of the work training him. And he naturally seems to like girls better so.

Ghost was more difficult. Clearly some trauma there, and a more wolfy-attitude towards humans. Primarily that he doesn’t seem to understand (or agree with) dumb pet things like harnesses, collars, and about 50% of the commands you give him unless you use your Serious Voice. He’s gotten less stingy with affection as time has gone on and his trust in you has grown.

Helped in part, you think, by learning his personality and behaviors. He’s a creature of strict habit. Likes his routines. Likes his space even more; you’ve always been respectful when he wanders off to another room, or when he climbs off the couch to lay nearby but not with you. You never mind, just call that you love him and leave him be.

Konig has been your biggest challenge so far. A lot of trauma there. And possibly a naturally shy personality; though it’s so hard to tell after everything he’s clearly been through. He’s been improving steadily each day, little by little. He’s sweet as can be, affectionate and snuggly when you manage to get him to join you and the others. The least aggressive with men when you take them for walks.

You’re lucky, the boys are so well-behaved — dislike of men notwithstanding. Scary dog privilege is a true blessing when you live alone, with no close neighbors, and right next to the woods. And they are so ridiculously sweet with you at least.

Still, they can be a lot. Any one of them is nearly the size of you, when all three of them decide to act up, it’s overwhelming.

Johnny will starting howling, pissed that Ghost has pinned him again. Ghost will start barking and grumbling - presumably trying to shut him up. And then Konig will insert himself, whining and tapping his feet, trying to break them up, you think.

Sometimes they’ll knock it off on their own, and Ghost will sneeze, shake off, and everyone will come to sit with you. But sometimes…

“Boys!”

You wade in between them, get a hold of Ghost’s scruff and push him off with your thigh against his muscular shoulder. Nearly trip over Johnny as he tries to scramble up and get at Ghost, crying and growling at the same time somehow. You curse as Konig bumps into you, nearly makes you fall over Ghost, who backs up with his nose scrunched up like he’s gonna bite.

Which is about the time you’ve had enough.

“Boys!” There’s a blessed beat of silence. “Outside, now!”

Johnny charges for the door, barking over his shoulder at ghost, who is quick to follow. Konig is slightly slower, head ducked like he knows he’s being part of the problem.

You groan with relief as they pile outside, all three immediately getting into another tussle. They’ve been keyed up the last three days no matter what you do and today seems to be the day it’s finally boiling over. You just wish it was on a day that the yard isn’t wet with mud.

Well then. You drop onto the porch steps and run your hands down your face, sighing. Best to let them stay out as long as possible — try to make bath time a little easier, at least.

You hear nails on the wood next to you, a little squeak, a snort. Figuring it’s one of the boys, you reach a hand without looking and tangle your fingers in their scruff. Pause because… that does not feel like any of your boys.

No way.

You pick your head up, turn slowly. And yup, there’s a dog you’ve never seen before. Another weird wolf one. Not as big as Konig at least. Closer to Ghost’s size — and actually similar in coloration. Cream and tan, with sharp blue eyes, a funny pattern along his cheeks and jaw that looks a bit like a beard.

“What in the…” you breathe, “is there some kind of doggy magnet on this house or something?”

You creep your fingers up his neck and around to his chin, give him a little scritch before he tilts his head to sniff at your wrist.

“Hi, handsome,” you coo, “oof.”

You hurry to prop yourself up as he shoves his muzzle into your stomach, nuzzling up under your shirt. You squeak at the cold, wet nose on your skin — and then again he licks at your ribs.

“Alright, alright,” you huff, shoving at his chest.

He backs up, though not far, ears perked forward and eyes bright. You stare back at him for a second, then sigh and do your due diligence, searching for a collar or microchip. He waits patiently until you’re done, then stands and shakes himself off.

You arch an eyebrow as he barks twice. All three of your boys stop, heads jerking up and turning to the two of you on the porch. Another bark and your little pack comes trotting back. When Johnny tries to nip at Ghost’s haunch, the new dog rumbles low in his chest. And to your shock, Johnny falls in line and slinks inside.

“Huh,” you say.

The mystery pup sneaks a kiss to your cheek before following the others inside. When you just sit there for a second, staring, he twists to look at your over his shoulder and gives you a little “boof.”

You laugh. “Bossy bastard.” And follow them in.

[eilidh-eternal]

Ok, I need to get into a fluffy mindset to write for Johnny and Simon so here’s some poly!bluecollar!141

Contractor 141 with reader who’s hired them to do the renovations on your house/business and you insist on bringing the guys like, drinks and sandwich platters each time you drop by to check on the progress. The whole thing is terribly behind schedule because every time you stop by with little gifts for the crew they ask if you wanna learn how to level concrete, how to frame a wall, how to dry wall. You always say yes, always want to learn a new skill to make yourself more marketable. And they love the excuse to be a little touchy with you, to stand chest to back with you and show you how to use the table saw, to keep a steadying hand on the small of your back when you climb up the ladder to mud the drywall after it’s been hung.

The sight of you, this white collar worker who never has a hair out of place, is always so perfectly put together and speaks to them with the confidence of every project manager they’ve ever worked with, is getting down and dirty with them and using all the power tools so confidently, and it just gets them all so fucking hard…

you guys know where this is going. The build is a good 6 months behind schedule, maybe a year, because your original design plans aren’t big enough for you and the four of them.

The shower definitely needs expanding and you need a much bigger bathtub—they’re big guys, love. And the fridge you picked out? Forget it, you’re gonna need a commercial grade fridge and freezer to keep enough food on hand for your big hard working boys. But don’t worry, John will have custom cabinetry done so you can still get that integrated look with all the appliances. Simon goes with you to pick out the bed and furniture because poor baby has the worst back out of all of them and needs an extra firm mattress, and he’s the tallest and you would feel just awful if things aren’t big enough for him. Gaz and Soap both go with you to pick out paint colors, counter tops, all the different tile and flooring, and all the pretty detailed things, taking notes and making sure that they have or can get their hands on all the tools and materials necessary to bring your vision to life.

And you best believe all four of them are carrying you across the threshold when it’s done, that they’ve had everything all assembled and put together and ready for you to christen every surface, every piece of furniture, in your new house with your boys.

[dante-mightdie]

I love blue collar Price and his milf wife! I see her as a mama bear to the rest of his crew. Johnny and Gaz call her ma'am and mum. She gives them life, love, and financial advice. And Simon is closer to their age, but she's so protective of him and is always asking about him.

yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes

c/w: very lighthearted, mentions of smut but nothing graphic

you know that thing where someone will introduce their partner to their pet for the rest time to see if the pet approves? yes, this is simon, gaz and johnny

price knew you were one when his boys warmed up to you. how could they not when you bring them coffee and lunch when you visit john at the site :( offering simon a lift home when his truck has broken down or giving kyle some advice about the new girl he’s started dating

it was johnny who started calling you mum as a joke, always calling you and john their parents. when you lightly scold john in front of them, you’re met with “ooh mum and dad are fighting.” from johnny or kyle

simon’s a bit more of a smartass with it, rolling his eyes and calling you his mum whenever you fuss over him. you can’t help it you just worry that he’s not eating enough or getting enough sleep :(

they’re known to your kids as uncle simon, uncle kyle, and uncle johnny. john thinks you’re a little too overprotective of them sometimes. one time, actually getting upset when they walked in on you and john getting busy in his office. frantically pacing back and forth afterwards, “they saw us, john. the boys saw us having sex! they’re gonna be traumatised!”

you looked ready to cry about it when john finally calmed you down, “one: they’re grown men. two: they’re not actually our children. three: they’re no angels, trust me.”

formally known as the ‘work children’ by your actual kids. they think of them as their cool much older brothers but that doesn’t stop you from telling the lads off when they teach your kids a new swear word or insult. it’s scary when you full name them and you’re not even their real mum

[ragingbookdragon]

She stared at them like they’d lost their minds. “What is this? A TV show? You seriously want me to dress up and go into this guy’s hideout all alone and flirt the information out of him? Are you fucking kidding me?”

The group shared a look, then Soap shrugged. “I mean, yeah, that’s the gist of the plan.”

With a sigh, she asked, “Do you at least have any dresses for me?”

“Already prepared,” Soap replied, lifting a bag.

“Gimme.” She took the bag from him and dropped it by her feet, toeing off her boots as she unbuttoned her pants and shoved them down her thighs; their eyes hit the ceiling to give her privacy.

“Uh…we have a bathroom.”

“And I have no shame,” she answered, yanking off her jacket, shirt, and tank top underneath. “Literally. I had a guy watch me shit when I was in basic. Had a full-on conversation with that man because he didn’t understand personal space in the head.” She picked out one of the dresses. “Didn’t even look away when I wiped. So, I, from that day forward, have never felt any sense of shame whatsoever. Because if you can have a conversation, with the opposite gender, while you’re shitting, you have no reason to ever be ashamed again.”

“I seriously wonder about your time at boot camp,” Price muttered, and she snorted.

“Pretty sure my entire group was nicotine depraved and crackheads.”

Soap had long lowered his eyes from the ceiling as he commented, “You know your underwear doesn’t match your bra, right?”

“Stellar observation there, Soap. No wonder you’re such a great shot.” She gestured to the red and plaid holiday bra and the neon green hi-briefs. “Forgot to pack before this mission and the underwear to the bra was dirty.”

“Why don’t you just stick with mil-issued?”

Her face pinched. “I’d rather use my hands as a cover for my tits and vag than use shit undergarments I can rip with my bare hands. And I have, in fact, ripped them with my bare hands before. And no, Soap,” she cut off, “you don’t get to ask why.”

She pulled the dress up her legs and slipped her arms through the sleeves, adjusting it to her body, then she frowned. “What am I going to church?”

“It has a slit in the side,” Soap offered, and she started walking around.

“My dudes, I can’t walk in this thing, let alone fight if things go bad.” Ghost, who’d been silent up until that point, walked towards her and she looked at him. “What?” he said nothing, and she backed up. “Ghost, what?”

He stood before her, reached down, and bunched the dress up in his hands, yanking it up her hips until everyone saw neon green. His fingers dug into the meat of her ass, keeping her in place even as she tried to recoil. Her eyes flashed with anger, and she let a knee fly up towards his groin—he caught it of course, also dodging the elbow she sent his way. Ghost gave a ‘hmpf’ and said, “Seems to me like you can fight just fine, love.” Letting her go, he smoothed the dress back down her legs and walked off, leaving her flustered in anger, embarrassment, and if she were being totally honest, arousal.

“Not. One. Word.” She hissed, pointing at the men who suddenly found the floor, the ceiling, and each other much more interesting than her.

As she stalked off in Ghost’s direction, Soap crossed his arms over his chest and muttered, “I’m not paying you money. They didn’t confess.”

Gaz smirked. “Yeah, but they’re gonna bone so it still counts.”

Price scowled at them. “You’re dogs…how much are we betting?”

[miniwheat77]

Tipsy. (Captain Price x Reader.)

!CW! NSFW Smut, unprotected p in v sex, public sex, Price is being rough ;), alcohol, this is really short. Been sitting in my drafts for some time (sorry if I missed any.)

“I’m thinking we all go out. As a celebration.” Soap smiles.

“Oh please, you’re just looking for a reason to get your hands on some tequila.” John mumbles.

“Whaaaat? I would never.” He pretends to look offended. He shakes his head. “Alright fine. For just an hour though, nothing crazy.” John mumbles. Once they’ve arrived back at base they gather everyone up and they’re walking down the streets to get to the small club. It was nice being here, nobody knew who they were when they were dressed normally. It was peaceful. An hour later, you’re nowhere to be found.

“Is she still out on the dance floor?” Captain Price looks at his watch. “Yeah probably. You’ll have to drag her away Captain.” He rolls his eyes. “Christ in heaven, I didn’t sign up for this.” He grumbles, standing up from his spot at the bar.

They know exactly how you get when you drink, so sending their Captain out to get you is going to be funny. Your Captain hadn’t seen it yet. He was always so uptight, never wanted to go out. They knew you can be pretty persuasive, maybe it’d help him lighten up.

He’s shoving through the crowd to get to you and when he runs into you, you’ve got a grin on your face, grasping his hand and pulling him into you. He laughs awkwardly, you’re very pushy. “Uh.. it’s time to head back now.” He mumbles, you’re dancing in front of him. “Nooo. Come on. We just got here.” You grasp his hand, spinning around.

His eyes widen as you back your hips into him, moving with the beat of the song.

The rest of the task force is witnessing it, Soap is trying not to laugh. “He’s gonna kill us for sending him out there.”

“Oh absolutely, but it’s good for the old man.”

They can see how rigid he’s gone when you back your hips up into him. They can’t help but laugh.

“Y-Y/N. Stop.” He spins you around, you pull him into you. “Oh come on Captain. Live a little.” You smile. He swallows hard at how forward you’re being. You’re drunk. He’s drunk too, had a little more bourbon than he should’ve. He can feel himself getting hard in his jeans, something he hadn’t felt in ages. He growls when you back up into him again. “Y/N..” he grits his teeth, face near your neck.

“So. How many push ups do you think he’s going to make us do?” Gaz asks.

“Good question. I bet we’re up early for extra drills.” Soap laughs. Taking another drink of his Tequila.

You let out a gasp, tilting your head back to rest on his chest, feeling him hardening against your ass. “Captain..” you smile. Grinding back into him. “You’re in a lot of trouble for this.” He breathes, rocking his hips into yours. By now, the crowd around you has you buried between them and nobody is focused on the way you’re rocking into him. He grasps a handful of your hair, tilting your head back. His breath is hot against your ear. “Bathroom. Now.” He growls. You bite your lip, watching him disappear into the crowd of people. You can feel yourself sobering up, nervous as you make your way for the bathroom.

“She’s gonna keep him out there a while, I say we check out this pool table.” Soap nods. They all agree, standing up and making their way over to it.

You push open the door seeing your Captain standing in front of the sink. Luckily it was a small one person bathroom. He makes his way over to you, locking the door and pushing you up against it. “You’re a bad fucking girl, making a fool of me like that.” He growls. You look up at him, eyes wide and you appear intimidated until a smile creeps onto your lips. “I can make it up to you Captain.” You breath. “Oh you will baby.” He growls. He spins you around, pushing your face into the wall and forcing you to arch your back. Pushing your dress up over your hips. He pulls your panties to the side, rubbing his fingers over your bare pussy.

“Fucking soaked.. such a fucking slut.” He breathes. He unzips his cargo pants, tugging them down far enough to expose his aching cock. His tip is blushing red and leaking precum from being teased for so long. He spits in his hand rubbing it over the entrance of your pussy, feeling you mewl into him. He rubs his cock back and fourth over you until you’re whining.

When you don’t expect it, he’s thrusting into you. A gasp leaves your lips and your hands are resting against the wall, wishing you could hang onto something as he starts his aching hard thrusts into your pussy. Gripping your hair hard and pulling you back to kiss him, resting his hand on your throat as he fucks into you. “Such a bad fucking girl. You like teasing me? Hm?”

“Yes- yes Captain!” You moan. “Mhm. I bet you do.”

“W-wanted you so bad.” You cry. Choking on sobs and cries as they leave your throat. “Yeah. I guess you got what you wanted hm.” He smiles. He wraps his hands around your waist, fucking into you and holding you tight. He hisses as you clench down on him, only now realizing just how long it’s been, how good you feel on him. “Fuck- gotta be quick before we get caught.” He breathes.

He pulls you back into him more, moving his fingers down between your legs and rubbing fast circles into your clit, you know you won’t last long. “Oh fuck- I’m gonna cum!” You whine, tilting your head back as he tugs on your hair once more. “Cum on my cock baby, yeah that’s it.” He growls. He’s right on the edge of his own orgasm, ready to let you have every bit of it. You pull away from him, and he growls. “What are you-“ you turn around to face him. “Wanna see you.” You breathe. He laughs, shaking his head. He grasps your thighs, lifting you up and pinning you to the wall behind you, a gasp leaving your lips at him manhandling you. His cock is slick with your orgasm still, making it easy for him to slide back into you. Hearing you moan. He pins your legs up, pressing his forehead to yours and thrusting into you, fast and hard. He’s reaching deeper places than before, growling as you start to claw at him.

You wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto him tight as he cries out. “M’gonna cum.” He gasps. “Gonna fuckin cum baby- fuck.” He grits his teeth, hips stuttering to a stop as he finishes, crying out as he finishes. He holds you tight to him, panting as he comes down from his high.

He pants hard into your shoulder. “Fuck.. I’m sorry.” He breathes. Hearing you laugh. “For what?” You breath, pulling away. “I was rough.” He breathes. “I haven’t.. done anything like this in a long time, I couldn’t control myself.” He breathes. You say nothing, deciding to kiss him instead. When he lets you down off of him, he slides out of you with a groan. “Fuck..” he sighs. “We should get back out there, they’re probably wondering where we are.” He laughs awkwardly. “Probably.” You smile, sliding your dress back down.

The both of you emerge from the bathroom, thankful that nobody is waiting outside.

When the both of you approach the pool table, you’re getting glances. “Finally got her off the dance floor ah?”

“Yeah, she’s uh.. quite the party animal.” He laughs. Hearing you laugh. “Nah I think she just sobered up enough to be done.” He lies. “Right, we’re just about done with this game.” Soap laughs, turning back to the table. They don’t see the way your Captain squeezes your ass as he passes by, a quiet gasp leaving your lips.

[python333]

bedbound — python333

— — — —

synopsis you're on a mission and oopsie daisy you get trapped under a building!! you end up in the medbay and tf141 visits you one by one, each of them giving you a lil piece of their mind for going and getting yourself trapped under a collapsed building.

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 4.5k

warnings pretty detailed (i think) descriptions of [reader] being in pain [specifically having a bunch of leg injuries], angstier than i usually write, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note this is my first actual fic ive wrotten in MONTHS so i hope its okay! so sorry if it feels like a majority of the focus is on the reader, i had a too much fun writing out the first part where they get crushed :3 i am also once again begging for requests. like on my knees hands together begging for requests. its the best way of getting motivation istg. anyway, this is all mild hurt/comfort and some angst + fluff so enjoy!! :3

You tried running out of the building—you didn’t expect the whole damn thing to come crashing down on you.

You’d just been chasing after an enemy soldier moments ago, dashing into the building, when suddenly the whole building seemed to shake. Then, the whole thing seemed to just collapse. When you think about it now, you realize the shake must’ve come from a nearby explosion, an explosion somehow powerful enough to damage the structural support of the building so terribly that it couldn’t hold itself up anymore and instead fell down onto you. 

Now, here you were, just ten steps away from the entrance of the building, stopped by the huge slab of concrete and twisted metal that pinned your legs down to the ground. Your earpiece fell off when you fell down, sliding across the floor, preventing you from calling your team.

Sure, you could try and move your legs, but the excruciating pain that came with each movement wasn’t worth it. You think your legs are broken with the way your nerves scream at you every time you move them, and with how uncomfortably and horrifyingly disconnected they feel.

“I’m making shit up,” You whisper hoarsely to yourself, ignoring the tears that welled up in your eyes from the debris and dust in the air, “They’re not broken. I’m making it worse for myself by thinking that.”

In the back of your mind, you remember that you’re quoting Price on that one, from the last time you got seriously hurt like this. You vaguely remember your panicked words and Price’s soothing voice that came after every worry, telling you that no, you’re not too badly hurt, it’s gonna be okay, you’re just panicking.

But in the forefront of your mind, all you can do is think about how you can’t reach your earpiece to talk to your team, the only thing you can do is listen to their worried voices.

The earpiece is loud enough for you to hear, even though you’re just out of arm’s reach from it, you can still hear your teammates repeating your call sign and asking how you copy. With the stupid Push-To-Talk thing, you can’t even just respond, no, you have to push the button on the side of your earpiece to unmute yourself.

You stretch your arm out just a little bit more to try and reach the earpiece, but when your leg starts to strain and your nerves light up you immediately give up, letting out a small, pained huff. You take a moment to just lie there and listen to your own labored breaths, every other breath hitching or catching in your throat.

You swallow down a sob that threatens to bubble out of your throat and try to reach again and—nope, that still fucking hurts.

You bring your hand back and put it over your mouth to muffle a small sob that climbs up and out of your throat, and try to take a deep breath the best you can with the debris in the air.

You feel a slight discomfort in your chest and cough, horrified when you see small specks of dust in the air you cough out, and God, the sight of it makes you want to rip out your lungs.

You feel the sudden urge to cough everything out, to flush out the dust in your lungs, to get rid of the uncomfortably full feeling you feel in your chest, but you know that every time you cough you can only exhale more of that debris-filled dust back in so now you’re trapped in a loop and—

“[c/n], how copy?” God, you want to yell at them that repeating that question won’t help, but you know there’s nothing else they can do. They’ve already asked where you are, if you’re okay, and how you copy multiple times, all of which got no answer.

They’ve only experienced radio silence on their end, and the thought makes you feel guilty for not being able to suck up the pain in your legs and just reach over to the damn earpiece and tell them you’re trapped.

You take a few deep breaths, trying your best to ignore the way you can literally feel the dust entering your lungs, and reach. You stretch your arm out the farthest you can, and feel the strain in your leg, and you’re almost to the earpiece, just a few more inches— pop.

A bone chilling pop rings through the air the moment you manage to snatch the earpiece, and good thing it was at least after you managed to grasp it firmly in your hand because you recoil back on instinct and gasp.

The gasp only lets in more dust, and you cough, wet tears dripping down onto your cheeks as you go through a seemingly endless loop of coughing out dust and inhaling debris and coughing it out again only for new dust to make its way into your system.

You stifle a pain-filled whimper and try to control your shaky breath, gripping the earpiece firming in your hand, looking down at it, looking at the sheer amount of debris on it. You bring your free hand out and wipe away the debris with shaky hands, making sure it’s clean enough to put in your ear before you carefully insert it.

It takes you a moment with your trembling hands, but you manage to do it, and you listen to Price ask how you copy one more time before you push down on the PTT button.

“Copy—” You hoarsely say, before coughing, everyone on the other line going silent, “Copy, not doing very well over here.”

“What happened?” Price’s voice crackles through on the damaged ear piece, “Are you hurt?”

“I got trapped under— under some concrete, and I…” You take a moment to catch your breath, “My legs are pinned, I can’t move.”

“Okay, okay,” Price’s voice softens, his tone becoming more soothing, “Where are you?”

“In a building— dunno which— which one… it’s by the really tall one,” You breathe out, mentally slapping yourself in the forehead for not being able to remember, “I’m sorry, I just know it’s orange and it has the entrance that Ghost bumped his head on—”

“It’s okay, I know which one you’re talking about,” Price reassures you, “Catch your breath. I’ll be there to get you out of there, okay? Just stay still, don’t move a muscle, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” You mumble, trying to catch your breath, coughing at the amount of dust that infiltrates your lungs. You bring your hand off of the PTT button and sob once, quietly, and sniffle to try and stop yourself from crying, blinking away tears.

The tears that trailed down your face earlier now only make you realize just how much dust and grime is on your face, how the tear trails must’ve been the only clean lines on your face, how there’s a whole layer of pure filth on your face and you can’t even properly wipe it away because your hands are dirty too.

The pain in your legs are throbbing and you know that you’ve torn some of the muscle in your thighs, and you know the popping noise had to have been your hip, from the unnatural way you’d twisted it to reach your earpiece. You don’t even have time to think about how pathetic you look when suddenly Price opens the barely-hanging-onto-the-hinges-door, looking at the floor for a moment before his eyes finally land on you.

He immediately walks over to the slab of concrete pinning your legs down and forcing you to lie on the ground and you can hear him faintly murmur, “Oh, God,” and kneel down to the same level as the concrete.

You turn your neck to look at him and watch as he looks at the concrete for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to lift it, before he simply grabs the edge of the concrete and, with a grunt and after a good thirty seconds, he manages to lift one end up and flip it over onto its other side. The circulation that immediately floods back to your legs and the sudden feeling of weightlessness you get is almost too much, and you can barely find it in yourself to feel shame as you let out a small, relieved sob at the sudden rush of blood to your legs.

Price immediately gasps and you can’t see much from your angle but in the midst of your relief you suddenly feel a pang of pain and oh God, that hurts. You can recognize now the warm blood that accompanies the drying blood on your calf, and with the blood rushing into your legs, more spills out from the wound in your leg. Vaguely, you can remember twisted metal doing something to your leg—stabbing it, maybe? Your brain becomes fog-filled; too hazy to think through but just clear enough to register the throbbing pain in your leg. 

“I’m so sorry,” Price murmurs softly, and before you can question him he takes the metal out of your leg and you let out a closed-lip scream, slapping a hand over your mouth to try and muffle the now uncontrollable sobs that break past your lips, the pain you feel making you light-headed.

Price quickly pulls a tourniquet out of one of the many pockets of his tactical best, wrapping the bright red strip around your leg just above the bleeding, blocking the blood from reaching past that point. He tightens it and rolls you over so that you’re laying on your back, making you stifle another pain-filled whimper. Without another word, he slips his arm under your knees and his other below your back and lifts you up bridal style, making you gasp sharply and cry out for a moment in pain, a few drops of blood making it onto the floor from your calf, the whole sight dizzying.

Being lifted up like this gave you vertigo—your head spun as you were lifted up and you could barely process anything with your hazy mind. Price mutters small ‘sorry’s under his breath, carrying you out of the door and quickly running with you in his arms back to where the others are, almost wanting to cry for you, seeing how much pain you were in.

Your eyelids drooped and your eyes shortly became half-lidded, and your ears started to ring, and everything was so overwhelming you just wanted it to be over. 

Price notices your eyelids drooping and quickly says, “Hey, hey, don’t pass out on me, you gotta stay awake, kid.” You can only shake your head ‘no’ because talking feels like too much right now and let out another small, pain-filled whimper, just the sound of it making Price’s heart shatter.

You can only find it in yourself to talk a moment later, your words slurring together as you try to speak, “I can’t— can’t… I’m sorry, I can’t—” You don’t even know what you’re trying to say, what you’re trying to warn Price about, but he seems to know.  

“No, no, no—” Price tries to beg you, as if you had enough strength to stay awake. Those are the last words you hear before you completely black out.

—

You wake up to a white ceiling and the faint beeping of a heart monitor. You move your head around a bit, trying to gauge where you are, when you realize— oh, I’m in the medbay. You blink for a moment before sighing and just resting there for a moment, trying to recount the events that happened earlier. You don’t have time to go down memory lane, though, because suddenly the curtains in front of your bed are pulled back to reveal your Captain. “You’re awake,” He states, closing the curtains behind him. “How could you tell?” He snorts and sits down in a chair by your bed. You look at him questioningly, “Where’re the others?” “They’ll be here soon,” Price assures you, looking at your blanket covered legs for a moment before looking back up at your face, “Medics said one at a time.” You hum neutrally in response to that and wait a moment before asking, “How bad is it?” “Your leg?” “Yeah.” “Well…” Price starts to list off on his fingers, recalling the doctor’s words, “The joint that connected your hips and your legs was twisted and it had to be set back to normal, your muscles were torn, your ligaments were torn, your nerves were so compressed someone had to physically massage your legs back to life, and the stab wound in your leg almost got infected.” “… Huh.” You blink at Price, before asking, “When can I get out of here?” “Why is that what you’re thinking about right now?” Price asks, confused, before sighing and answering, “Kid, your leg was basically broken. You can get out of here in maybe a few weeks to a month. Getting back to your assignments is a whole different story. It could take several months for your muscles to fully heal, and even then I don’t want you back out there for a while. Not until it’s guaranteed your leg won’t… give out, or something, out there.” You frown at Price, “So what, I’m just gonna be stuck here?” “What else are you gonna do with an almost-broken leg?” “…” Price sighs and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Look, I know it’s frustrating, having to sit here for a few weeks then be able to get out only to not be able to do anything too physical, but your leg muscles were torn. You were trapped under concrete. You’re not going on any missions any time soon. I feel like that should be kind of obvious.” You can understand it, knowing the condition you’re in now, but you still deflate a little where you lie down and let out a tired, frustrated huff. Price chuckles softly at your clear display of disappointment and rubs your shoulder gently before patting it and getting up. “I guess I have to let the others see you too,” He muses, making your lips twitch up into a smile, the sight making him smile in return, “But I’ll be back tomorrow to talk to you again, alright?” “Alright,” You nod, watching as he walks past the curtains blocking your bed from the rest of the medbay and listen as the door clicks open and closes shut. Not even a few seconds later, the door opens again, this time with someone walking faster to the curtains, pushing them aside eagerly. You quickly recognize Soap as he walks in, quickly closing the curtains behind him before rushing over and leaning down to hug you. This all happens so quickly you have to take a moment to process it, but you eventually hug him back, sighing at the warm embrace. “I want tae call ye stupid sae bad,” Soap mumbles into your neck as he hugs you, “but it wasn’ even yer fault sae I can’.”

“That’s the worst thing that’s happened all day,” You mutter sarcastically, making Soap laugh quietly. He pulls away from you and looks down at you. “It is, actually,” Soap says, and at your confused and mildly offended expression, he adds on, “It’s been over a day since ye got yer leg fucked up.” “… Oh.” You dumbly said, trying to process that. Over a day. “Everyone was really worried about ye, too,” Soap tacks on, refusing to sit on the chair behind him, simply standing by your bed. You stay silent, and Soap takes that as an invitation to keep talking. “I think that's the first time I've actually seen Ghost stressed," Soap muses, making you huff out a small laugh. “Really?” “Yea,” Soap smiles, “I ken. Stone cauld L.t, suddenly worryin’ o’er ye.”

“Isn’t that a surprise,” You mutter, a small smile gracing your lips thinking about Ghost worrying over you, “So you were all really worried?” “Very worried,” Soap nods, “Gaz thocht ye were gonnae die, poor chiel.” “Hm,” You hum neutrally. Soap stays silent for a moment before his voice softens and he quiets himself down a bit. “Try no' tae dae that again, aye? Ye'll gie the captain a heart attack," When you give him a pointed look, he rolls his eyes and adds on, “And me. Possibly. Maybe.” “Uh huh,” You look at him, unimpressed, “Right. I’ll try to predict when a huge piece of concrete is gonna fall on me.” “Ye ken wha’ I meant.”

“Never said I didn’t.” “Ye— y’know wha’? I’ll just leave then,” Soap says, feigning annoyance as he walks away from your bed, making you laugh quietly. He slips out and doesn’t bother to close the curtains behind him, simply walking out the door, not bothering to close that either.

You can hear him letting someone else know you’re ‘free to visit’, and just a few seconds later you watch Ghost walk in. You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are, seeing as Soap had told you Ghost was worried over you, but you still find yourself a little shocked when he walks over to you and closes the curtains behind him. He sits at the chair beside your bed, and silently stares at you from the chair.

You stare back, not blinking, waiting for him to say the first word. You and Ghost’s silent staring match ends with Ghost sighing and speaking up. “How does your… leg feel?” “How do you think it feels?” You ask, deadpan, watching as Ghost’s eyes narrow. You blink at him for another moment before adding on, “It feels numb, right now.” Ghost hums at the actual answer and sits there awkwardly for another moment before stating, “Gaz thought you died. Or, were gonna die.” “I heard about that,” You respond, raising an eyebrow at Ghost, “Did he not know it was just my leg that got hurt?” “Hurt is a mild word,” Ghost mutters, before clearing his throat and saying, “No, he knew. He was more worried about all the stuff that got into your lungs.” “Oh.” “Yeah.”

You both stay silent for a bit, again, before you speak up, “So… are my lungs okay, or… ?” “No, yeah, they’re fine.” “That’s… good.” “Mhm.” Why is this so awkward? You purse your lips and turn your head back so that you’re staring at the ceiling rather than at Ghost, not knowing what to say. Why’d he even come in here if he was just gonna be awkward about this whole thing? It’s silent again, an uncomfortable sort of quiet that’s silent yet deafening at the same time—and you hate it. It seems Ghost hates it too, because he shifts in his seat, not saying anything verbally but you can tell by his body language it’s awkward for him too.

This goes on for maybe a minute or two, when suddenly Ghost gets up and walks the short one step between him and your bed and leans down to hug you. Like the silence, the hug is awkward, but unlike it, it’s comforting. A comfortable awkward? You tentatively hug him back and you feel his hands snake underneath your back, forcing his arms under you so that he can hug you properly. 

“I know Soap told you I was stressed and worried and whatnot,” Ghost mutters, his skull mask pressing into your shoulder, “… And he was right.” “… Did you think I thought he was wrong?” “Shut it and let me try to talk.” “Yes, sir.” Ghost sighs and takes a deep breath before continuing, “He was right. I was growing greys watching you passed out, and I think I almost passed out as well, hearing you were trapped under a huge block of concrete and got stabbed by metal.” 

“Did you ever find out what the metal was?” You ask after a moment, making sure he was done talking.

“The Captain said it was a twisted pipe.”

“Huh.” You lay there for a moment, simply enjoying Ghost hugging you, before Ghost speaks up again.

“I know it wasn’t your fault, but please, God, never do that shit to me ever again.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m in a collapsing building.”

“I’m serious,” Ghost pulls away from the hug and looks down at you, keeping his hands on both of your shoulders, “I had to drive a car with you in the back passed out laying in the trunk with Price, all while not knowing what happened, and having to drive you guys back to base.”

“… Damn, you guys didn’t get a helicopter, or anything?”

“[c/n].”

“Sorry.”

Ghost sighs, “I’m trying to say that I don’t like worrying over you like that. I don’t like knowing that my kid is hurt, and I can’t do anything about it. That was the first time I was seriously worried and— and stressed over you, and it was terrifying, seeing you just passed out with dirt all over you and blood all over your leg, and just seeing you like that— I can’t do that again,” Ghost takes a deep breath, and looks down at you, trying to gauge your reaction, trying to see what you think of his words, but all you can think is, wait, he called me his kid?

“You called me your kid,” You dumbly voice your thoughts, watching as Ghost’s expression becomes more confused, and he opens his mouth to deny that when suddenly— oh shit, he called you his kid.

“… I did,” He dumbly says back, sounding surprised by his own words, before he fully realizes what he said and simply blinks down at you, not knowing where to go from here. You both blink at each other, not knowing what to say, before he clears his throat.

“I’ll just… head out then,” He awkwardly says, slowly walking away from the bed.

You take the opportunity to say, “Alright, dad.”

He freezes and slowly turns towards you and mutters, “Don’t call me that.”

A grin splits across your face, “Oh I will. Dad.”

He points at you with a single finger, “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“I’ll call you it in front of everyone. I’ll gaslight them into thinking we’re related.”

“God, you better not.”

“I will. In fact, tomorrow, I’ll begin with the Captain. Then I’ll tell Soap, he’s the next most gullible next to Gaz, who I’ll see right after you. Gaz won’t fight with me over it, he’ll just accept it, I know he will, then, and only then, will I tell everyone else. I spread it across the base like the flu. Everyone, and I mean everyone will think that you’re my father, Ghost.”

“That is…” Ghost blinks at you, dumbfounded and mildly horrified, “... terrifying.” “Yeah, I know. Pretty sure I got that from you, dad.” “Oh my God,” Ghost groans, making you laugh at his misery. He walks out without another word, being sure to slam the door behind him, making the poor medic passing by jump at least a foot in the air. You giggle quietly in your bed, waiting for the next person to walk in. By the time you’ve contained your laughter, Gaz walks in, looking strangely sheepish as he walks over to you and closes the curtains behind him that Ghost had forgotten to close. He doesn’t say anything until he’s right by your bed and bends over to give you a nice, firm, quick hug before standing up straight again and clearing his throat. “Hi,” He greets you simply. “Hi.” “How’s the uh… how’s your leg?” “You thought I died?” You ask teasingly, ignoring his question. You can’t see any blush on his face, but you’re almost certain his face heats up as he looks away from you. “Listen…” He sighs, looking back at you, “Price ran over to the whole group, with you not moving at all in his arms, and a tourniquet wrapped around your calf. I feel like it was a bit reasonable for me to think you were dead for a second.” “Right, of course,” You nod, definitely not believing that he only thought you were dead for a second, “That’s totally why I’ve had both Soap and Ghost tell me you thought I was dead. They only told me that because you thought I was dead for a second.” “I’m gonna murder them both, I swear to—” He mutters, burying his face in his hands, making you laugh quietly. He glares at you from behind his hands and adds on, “Oh, you think this is funny? You having a laugh down there, knowin’ that I thought you were dead?”

“I think this is hilarious.” “You’re insufferable and I don’t even know why I try to care about you anymore.” “You don’t try, you just do,” You roll your eyes, “Don’t act like you have to actively try and care about me.” “You’re so snarky today, my God,” Gaz scoffs, “Wait ‘til I tell Captain Price about this.” “Alright, Draco Malfoy. You do that.” “I shouldn’t have ever visited you in here,” He mutters, crossing his arms and looking away from you, feigning annoyance. You huff out a laugh at that and that makes Gaz laugh a bit, though he keeps up his dramatics, continuing to look away from you. “You still think I’m dead now, or?” “Shut it, you.” “My bad.” “I wish they amputated your leg.” “No you don’t.” “…” Gaz can’t even argue with it, simply sighing and rolling his eyes before looking back at you, ”No, I don’t.” “I knew it,” You smile at him knowingly, making his lips twitch up into a smile. You think for a moment before tacking on, “Wanna hear what Ghost said to me?” That makes Gaz perk up and immediately reply, “Oh, absolutely.” Cue you both five minutes later, Gaz gaping at you while you laugh every other word, remember the horror on Ghost's face when he realized what he called you. Gaz covers his mouth with his hand, laughing into it, gripping the rail of your bed with his other hand, keeping himself up.

“He— oh my God,” Gaz laughs, trying to keep quiet so Ghost wouldn’t hear him, knowing the latter was right outside the medbay. He takes a deep breath and another before breaking into small giggles once again, making you do the same. After maybe a few more minutes of just pure laughter, Gaz manages to catch his breath and stop laughing, and you do the same. “I should probably head out now,” He says, sounding almost disappointed by the fact, glancing over at the closed curtain a few feet away from your bed. You nod in understanding and don’t say anything in response, making Gaz look back at you and add on, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow though, yeah?” “Yeah,” You confirm, making Gaz offer you a warm smile and lean down to hug you tightly one last time before getting up and walking over to the curtains, sliding them to the side and walking out, sliding them closed behind him. You hear the click open and shut of the door, as well as Gaz’s footsteps walking outside of the medbay and eventually fading into nothing.

[shotmrmiller]

Happy trails, John.

A/N: I've been meaning to write the captain my captain but he's my holy grail—look but not touch even though I'd beg him to let me make him lonches at 4 am. Also, I watch Die Hard every Christmas because it IS a Christmas movie, argue with your demons. In response to @glitterypirateduck's prompt thing which inspired to me to write something cute and civilized.

“Just once, I’d like a regular, normal Christmas. Eggnog, a fucking Christmas tree, a little turkey. But no. It’s always ‘Die Hard’.”

“John, love. You’re being overdramatic. It’s just the holidays with my parents.” 

You rolled your eyes as you stuffed your clothes into the luggage bag, preparing for the trip.

“I know, love, but I wanted to spend a quiet Christmas with my wife— but no, the in-laws have to call with their ‘Come out to the coast, we’ll get together, have a few laughs…’ ", he said with a mocking lilt in his voice.

You snicker and say, “I promise we’ll leave as soon as it’s polite.” 

“Sure, sure, I go out and keep the world safe just so when I can get a little reprieve, it’s to not spend it alone with my wife. I’m feeling a little fuckin’ underappreciated.”

You closed the zipper on your bag and went over to the bathroom where John was grumbling his displeasure. Looping your arms around his waist, cheek to his shoulder blade you say, “It’s just Christmas, hun. We’ll have New Year's all to ourselves and we can even have the boys over to celebrate. I’ll even tell you what I got you for Christmas.”

That seems to distract him a bit, as he turns his head a tad with a curious tilt.

“I bought you a Lagavulin 16-year aged single malt scotch.”

His eyes warm with appreciation and he lets out a resigned sigh.

“Right, then. Let’s get this over with.”

Stepping out of the bathroom, you turn to look at the time. 

“Jesus Christ, John! We’re gonna need a miracle to get to the airport on time!”

You’re hastily grabbing your bags, yanking them off the bed and you see John on the phone.

“John! Get your bag—”

Suddenly, there are tires screeching outside on the driveway. John walks past you with his bag and picks up yours as well, before jerking his head at you towards the front door. 

“You wanted a miracle. I give you— The TaskForce 141”, John says, tossing the bags in the trunk of a truck that has Ghost, Johnny, and Gaz in it.

You don’t even care to question why they’re here— you just hop in the back seat immediately and buckle up.

John’s foot is barely inside the truck when it’s speeding off, tires screeching on the pavement. The entire drive has you almost nauseous with the jerky turns and harsh brakes. At a particularly abrasive step of the gas that has your neck jerking back towards the headrest of the seat, you turn towards John with a white-knuckle grip on the driver and passenger seat— you ask “Who’s driving this car? Stevie Wonder?!”

Johnny, sweet Johnny turns with a confused furrow on his brow and says, “Whad’ya mean, lass? It’s just L.T.” 

You’re at the airport in no time with the no-question illegal speed Ghost drove at, and you’re stumbling out of the vehicle with shaky legs. At least you made it.

Gaz grabs the bags from the trunk and places them on the floor but you’ve already run off to check in before it’s too late. John thanks Ghost for the help and after Johnny is rolling his window down— “I heard you’re going to America. To California, specifically.”

John grunts in annoyance at remembering the trip, and he sees Johnny grin cheekily at him before he says, “Yippy-ki-yay, motherfucker!”

[empresskylo]

would you do headcanons if price was readers boyfriend?! 🫶🫶😮‍💨

↳ yuuhhh i gotchuu 🫶

⋆｡°✩ CONTENT WARNINGS | afab!reader, she/her pronouns used, feminine pet names used, smutty content at the end

cod masterlist | main masterlist

♡ such the gentleman. he asked you out on a proper date when he realized you both were feeling something for one another. even tho it’s really hard to do/find the time whilst working, he managed to do something cute for you.

♡ possessiveeeee! even before you were dating, when he knew he liked you, he’d act all possessive over you. all the other men knew to stay away from you or they’d get on price's bad side (they’re so dramatic). so even now, he likes to have his claim over you and makes sure everyone knows you’re his.

♡ that doesn't mean the men didn't tease him a lil bit--and by men, i mean gaz. he would team up with you a lot, or be a lil extra touchy with you in front of price, just to see him get pissed. but price couldn't really do much about it because you two weren't dating and you didn't even know he was into you like that. ♡ gaz looked at you, smirking, and you felt one of your eyebrows raise. he walked closer to you and decided to help you get situated for your upcoming mission. he was giving you a hand in securing your tactical gear, making the process go faster, when price approached. "I think she's got it." gaz looked up at him and gave him a knowing smile. "just trying to speed things up, cap." price's jaw tightened, having no choice but to keep moving unless he wanted to explain just why he was annoyed at gaz doing something so innocent as helping you.

♡ speaking of being possessive, he is also very proud to be with you. he doesn’t find the need to keep your relationship a secret even if he knows people will judge you both for it (you’re so much younger, he’s your superior, etc). he wants everyone to know.

♡ and he’s not afraid of some pda. he’ll give you little kisses randomly that catch you off guard (especially if you’re a soldier under his rank). there have been times when the others teased you about it. obviously, price didn’t care, but you always got flustered. “i’ll be back at the barrics,” price directed to you and soap who both gave him a curt nod. price leaned down towards you and before you could question him, he placed a kiss on your lips. he smirked when he pulled away, your eyes wide, your face warming. price turned to leave and soap burst into a fit of giggles. “ugh, how old are you?” you asked soap irritated, but your cheeks were inflamed and your heart was racing with something similar to embarrassment. ♡ he’s possessive, but not in an over-the-top way. like he’s not gonna freak out if he sees you talking to another guy, or if you’re wearing something skimpy. my guy is secure in himself (maybe even a little too much sometimes) and he knows no one is quite as good as him. he doesn’t worry about you leaving him.

♡ uses all the pet names for you. you were honestly impressed he managed to find so many to call you. love, doll, baby, sweet girl, baby girl, princess, lass, honey, babe, little one, brat, pet, kitten (you may have threw a shoe at him when he called you that), queen, lovely, sweetness, sweetheart, sunshine. the list goes on.

♡ he also began to call you such random shit that makes you laugh. munchkin, cutest lil lady, little foot, shorty, pipsqueak. (basically anything silly that gave off dad energy)

♡ keeps polaroids of you in his wallet <3

♡ had your name engraved in his favorite knife. also has your name engraved on a simple silver bracelet that he always wears.

♡ speaking of jewelry, he got you a locket with a picture of the two of you in it. you gave it to him to wear once when he was gonna be away from you for quite a while. he never took it off.

♡ he likes to get you flowers all the fucking time. roses, peonies, tulips, the whole lot. you’ve run out of places to put them.

♡ has been known to squat when he sees you getting tired and refusing to move until you get on his back so he can carry you.

♡ whenever he wraps his arms around you--usually when he’s spacing out--he pulls you into his chest and rests his chin on your head. his fingers will fiddle with the hem of your shirt and give you goosebumps at the tiny tickles on your skin.

♡ really likes to cuddle. he’s always reaching for you when you sit or lie down together. he wants to pull you into him. he likes to be the big spoon. you always wake up tangled in each others arms.

♡ he always lets you wear his clothes. he actually prefers it when you do. you sleep in his t-shirt. you’ll wear his hoodies. if it’s cold out he’ll take his coat off and wrap you in it. or sometimes he’ll let you wrap your arms around him and then he’ll wrap his coat around the both of you.

♡ he always falls asleep first. he'll have you pulled into his chest as you both watch tv and honestly, like 10 minutes will go by and you'll say something and he wont respond. when you tilt your head up you notice he's already out cold.

♡ and even tho he's asleep, like a superpower he can sense when you move away from him. so if you try to get up, his grip on you tightens and he'll pull you into him, rolling over with you trapped in his arms.

♡ he is always up first too. and he will often times bring you breakfast or coffee in bed. if he has to leave before you, you'll wake to find a hot coffee or tea sitting on your nightstand waiting for you.

♡ he is obsessed with your hair. he's always stroking it, or tucking it behind your ear. he likes to run his fingers through it when you're cuddling or when you're hugging him tightly. he loves when you let him wash it too.

♡ you asked him to brush it for you once while you were getting ready one day and he was just standing there watching you. he did so and was very gentle and took his time. ever since then, he loves when you let him brush your hair. it's such a random but intimate act for him.

NSFW CONTENT BELOW

♡ pleasure dom! he is super dominant in bed but is also really in tune with your body and making sure you're always enjoying yourself. he gets off by getting you off.

♡ he’s really good at making you come. like, you'd think he made it his life's mission to make you feel good. and seeing you in pleasure is what always gets him going. he cant finish unless he watches you finish first.

♡ he’s so good at what he does that he’s been known to get you off over your clothes. it takes him no time at all to make you come if he wants. usually he likes to drag it out tho. and he likes to overstimulate you.

♡ nights will oftentimes consist of you fully naked while he fingers you, having already orgasmed once, and him still fully clothed. something about that power dynamic drives him crazy.

♡ he softly degrades you. “look how fuckin’ desperate you are for me, love” “this what you’ve been thinkin’ bout all day? my fingers thrusting inside you, hm? nothing else going on in that pretty little head of yours.” “oh, com’on princess, you know you have to come at least twice before i’ll give you my cock. so are you gonna be a good girl and come on my tongue one more time? yeah, i know you can handle it.”

♡ likes to hold your hand during sex. he’s eating you out? his hand is laced with one of yours. you’re sucking his dick? he grabs your hand and traces patterns aimlessly, trying not to come too fast. he’s fucking you missionary? either one or both of his hands are locked with yours. he’s fucking you from behind? he’s pulled you up against his chest, covering your hand resting against your stomach with his own.

♡ he likes when you give him blow jobs. and he enjoys praising you during it, watching as you clench your thighs from his panting words.

♡ you’ll have his cock in your mouth and he’s muttering how good you feel. he hunches over, his arms lazily resting over your shoulders, his forehead resting against the top of yours. he’ll groan and grunt, “fuck, baby, that feels so good.” “god, don’t stop, love.” “look what you do to me.” “i’m gonna fuck you so hard after this, baby.”

[ghosts-bandwagon]

Wish to see the boys(all of them) using or playing with the period cramp simulator, with the reader holding the remote, and yes it’s goes along with the period cramp scenario, please(and yes they all went to level 10, painfully)

The post they’re referencing is this one!

Ghost is fucking sweating, he’s trying so hard not to express outward discomfort because he’s seen you. He’s seen how strong you are and how you handle it so he tries to do the same. He’s gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw and manages to get to level 10. He’s nauseous, sweaty, antsy but he breathes through it as much as he can, but sweet Jesus fuck it hurts, he eventually doubles over and rips the electrode pads off of him, nauseous, breathing heavily and trying to catch his breath. He’s about to shoo away the heating pad you’re offering him before he thinks back to every time the roles were reversed and he gratefully albeit reluctantly accepts and let’s you press it against his lower abdomen. You’re gonna owe him for this.

Soap… I don’t think he can make it to 10 tbh he’s overconfident and definitely dug his own grave. I feel like he’d get to maybe 7 or 8 before he taps out, he’s gripping the chair and leaving indents in the material, almost has tears in his eyes by the time he taps out. Give him lots of love, he’ll need it after that.

Price uh, nah love I’m good. But he caves when you pout at him. He’s putting on a brave show but he’s sweating bullets by the time he gets to level 7, he’s laughing nervously, asking when it’ll be over and then you crank it to 10 and he’s paralyzed. The wind just gets punched out of his chest and when you’ve turned it off, he’s amazed that you deal with that once a month

Gaz, oh baby boy, just like Soap he talked a bit game, fully confident that he could handle it but he’s jittery and queasy by the time the machine hits level 6. He’s laughing nervously and trying to crack jokes but he’s interrupted mid-sentence by you cranking up the machine. He gets to 8 before he taps out.

König is hesitant to try it but he’ll do it for you. Dear god he regrets it immediately. It starts off as discomfort and he’s talking himself through it, and as the levels get higher and higher he’s struggling a little to keep talking through it. His hands are balled into fists on his knees, his jaw is tight as he wills himself to breathe through it. Once he’s at 9 or 10, he’s talking about how awestruck he is that you deal with this on a monthly basis. Talking is the only thing that’s helping him right now. Eventually you shut the machine off and he’s panting like he just ran a marathon, clutching his stomach and gratefully accepting the hot compress you’ve given him.

[bigassmoonchild]

night team here

can we request ghost with a daughter that is the mini verison of him like soap thinks shes gonna be sweet and nice and she bullies him worse than her father does

bonus points

price already knew ghosts daughter was a complete savage but soap annoyed him that morning and price decided the consequences of his actions was being brutally roasted

(daughter is gonna be leaning teens just bc i said so. also, thank you so much for the request!! love the night team 🫶🫶)

soap wasn’t supposed to know. this wasn’t something anyone was supposed to know, but simon was decently okay with price knowing. price knew to keep secrets, hell, price had his own.

but simon accidentally let it slip.

‘i’ve gotta get home, early morning,’ he’d told the 141 when they wanted to go out for drinks after a successful mission. they gave him odd looks (one of them was a knowing one, but he’d ignore price being offered to come watch a recital).

soap didn’t let it go, no he didn’t. ‘got the missus waiting back there?’ and simon was exhausted, it was a long mission and all he wanted was to sleep in his own house.

‘kids got a recital,’ he’d muttered and had walked away. what he didn’t expect was to find a huge amount of messages from soap the next morning. most consisted of the same things.

kid??

who’d have a child with you??

what’s the mother look like?

what’s the kids name?

son or daughter?

maybe i wanted to come watch too

i’m technically their uncle

and simon had to leave, collected you from your grandmother and took you to the recital. you were beautiful, the pride and joy of his life. someone he’d never thought he’d ever had, someone he never knew he could love more than anything.

it took months for simon to wear down enough ti even allow any of them to see a picture of you, let alone know your name.

‘beauty, that one is. you sure she came from you?’ simon shoved soap off the chair for that comment. soap continued to rave about being an ‘uncle’ and as much as simon didn’t want it, he had to tell you.

you looked at him weird when he admitted he’d spoken about you to the 141. you knew, generally, what he did but you didn’t get details.

‘ok and?’ you’d asked. ‘what’re they gonna do? it’s not like they’re gonna do something behind your back, not like price has said anything,’ and he worried. maybe he coddled you a little, but you were his girl.

and you’d agreed to meeting them, but told simon you didn’t want to know when. ‘i’ll be thinking about it too much,’ you told him.

simon finally dropped a few names for you, late one night when he’d finally relaxed with some whiskey (he didn’t mention the watered down taste).

‘what kinda name is soap? he drop it or something?’

it took some time before simon had grown any sort of comfortable letting anyone but price be around you. it wasn’t common that you stayed by price when simon was out on a mission, but the occasion happened when it was possibly a fatal one.

it was early morning when you’d sent a text to simon, he hadn’t meant to go to the compound at all that day but had made a lunch. it was a picture of the lunch, still sitting in the fridge with the caption ‘you forget something?’

and he’d groaned, mentioning to price in passing that he forgot his lunch at home. soap and gaz had been there, and a little smile came from soap.

‘just have the lass bring it ‘round, i’m sure she’s dying to meet her uncles,’ price gave a little grimace. ‘what? she’s probably a sweetheart, i cant imagine a girl like her would turn out like ghost,’

you’d relented to bring it around, especially after price messaged you about soap not being able to shut up about meeting you.

he’s pressing me for information. -john

if you bring the food, i’ll give your dad an extra day of leave. -john

please, i’m about to make him run. -john

you always laughed a little when he signed off after each text. it was his own little thing, and you secretly enjoyed having a fatherly figure text you more than three words.

when you got to the compound, you found price waiting outside for you and you waggled the bag of food at him. he let you in, guiding you through the halls to where simon and the others were.

‘try not to forget it, next time,’ you told simon. he gave you a small grunt, one that sounded like his ‘thank you’.

soap walked up to you, giving you a cheeky grin and swinging his arm around your shoulder. ‘how’s it been, lass?’ he asked you and you shook his arm off.

‘you know it’s not the 80’s anymore, right?’ he blinked at you. snorting softly with an eye roll, you sat down in the nearest chair. ‘mullets back in style, you know. might fit you better,’ you commented.

soap was left with his mouth open, gesturing faintly to you then to simon. ‘she can’t be like you,’ he nearly hissed.

‘don’t act so surprised, she said damn near the same thing to me,’ price lamented, thinking back on his first time meeting you.

‘you from the 1800’s? christ, i haven’t seen anyone willingly have that beard,’ you’d told him oh so long ago.

you looked around, leaning towards him. ‘who else am i supposed to be like? i’m pretty sure he’s my father,’ you hissed back.

all soap could do was blink. a little ghost? no, he couldn’t believe it. he saw simon give you a little fist bump, almost saw a few dollars being passed between you two.

simon pulled his mask off to eat and you looked at him closely. ‘you get a haircut?’ you asked, squinting your eyes suspiciously.

‘nope,’ he responded. ‘got ‘em all cut,’ and you snorted a short laugh. soap couldn’t do much but watch the interaction, realization slowly settling in.

‘that’s why you tell those shitty jokes?’ he announced. ‘you’re actually a father telling dad jokes,’

you gave a little smile and he could see the admiration in your eyes. god, you were just like your father but the confidence came off of you so easily.

‘yknow he came to my parents job show and tell once,’ you told everyone and simon stared at you. almost daring you to finish. ‘he didn’t take the mask off and had to leave, he scared too many of the kids,’

you spoke so fondly of him.

‘but he’s a prick, so he just left,’ simon lightly kicked your leg and you made a big show of it. you might be his kid, but you had your own personality in there.

and simon would be dead before anyone took that from you.

[undercoverpena]

You can ignore this if you don’t wanna talk Price, but hear me out: the reader from ’Don’t‘ being dared to take other things from Cap’ Price (not realizing they’re fucking) and her wiping her mouth as she shows Soap the cigar he dared her to steal.

ohhhh, i have had this same thought, anon. sameeee thought.

john price x f!reader

(same reader from don’t, but you don’t need to read to know or understand | 18+, includes spice — all price belongs to @guyfieriii )

You’d knocked, all polite and innocent—even if he knew you were anything but. His eyes drinking you in as you close the door, leaning your back against it.

He’d narrow his eyes before your name fell from lips like syrup as you walk closer. His boots are flat to the floor, thighs spreading as you come to a stop, standing between his spread thighs as you take the papers from his hands.

Need a favour.

Favours gonna’ cost y’, love.

And, fuck. You loved what it cost you. Your shorts dropped to your ankles, underwear snapped from your skin with a hiss. Mostly, you loved tasting him, running your tongue around his leaking head as your knees dig into the floor.

Each hiss he let loose, you wished to bottle; each groan of your name, you wished you’d hear forever. Hollowing your cheeks as his hand held the back of your neck, and then—

Only one place I wanna finish, love.

Your chest meets the desk, his hand on your lower back as he slides his cock in to the hilt. A wicked smirk spreads across your face, one you keep hidden, buried. Because you didn’t give a fuck about the cigar that Soap dared you to take—you wanted an excuse to see him. To be at his mercy, to be stuffed full of him.

This just gave you an alibi. A reason for why the two of you were alone.

His palm cupped your mouth, smothering the sounds that fell with ease. Your hands carve their own marks in his wooden desk—leaving reminders of your pleasure in the surface where he works.

He always makes sure you finish first. Pleasure spreads like a fire as it licks its way across your body; making each nerve light as you groaned his name into his palm—searing it into his skin.

The same way he coated your walls in his.

Sorry about y’knickers, love.

You’re forgiven.

Your hand pulls your shorts up, arranging your t-shirt back into place before taking the cigar from his desk. His belt already fastened, looking as handsome as he did when you entered—as presentable—just with a twinkle in his eye.

Holding the cigar up between your fingers, his brow arching.

If he smokes it—

You’ll get to order me in here. Ask me to explain myself. Make me pay for my theft…

The hair around John’s lips twitch, the only indication that he liked the sound of it before he sighed. Picking up his papers, and returning to his leaning position on the desk.

Go. Now. Before I find a reason t’keep y’ere all night.

Yes, sir.

You hear his muttering that you’ll be the death of him, the words ringing through your ears as you head to the mess—trying to stifle the cockiness in your walk. Trying to bury your grin under a guise as you spot them all.

Ghost looks up first, his eyes stern—analytical. Desperately trying to read and understand what has changed. Gaz is next, turning his head, brows narrowing before they smooth out, a smile itching in the corners of his lips.

Then Soap—Johnny.

You don’t let him react, wiping your mouth to conceal your smile and wipe away any evidence, as you lift your fingers. Showing him—them—what he’d been sure you wouldn’t get.

It’s clear before you sit opposite him, stealing a bite from his burger that he doesn’t understand how. His fingers rotate it, disbelief etched into his face.

“How t’fuck d’yer get this?”

Picking a chip from his plate, you wink. “Talent. That’s how.”

[peachesofteal]

ON GOD THE NEW ADDITION?!?!?!! SIMON, JOHNNY YALL BETTER GO SAVE YALLS GIRL! DRAG PRICE WITH YOU AND SEND GAZ AWAY WITH BEE FOR SAFETY. I CAN'T. OH MAN THEY'LL GOO ABSOLUTELY BONKERS TRYING TO GET TO DARLING! PRICE HAS NEVER SEEN SUCH BLOODLUST IN THEIR EYES BEFORE. MAAAAAAAAAN. GET THE BAD GUYS BOOOOYS. NSJANWNAJJKSNDN BLESS YOUR BEAUTIFUL BIG BRAIN

OKAY OKAY but switch Gaz and Price. Takes place after this.

18+ / Disco baby AU / Mature themes including violence, blood, injury, aftermath of torture. Angst.

“We’ll see you soon baby girl.” Simon cuddles Bee close before depositing her into Price’s waiting arms with one last mournful look.

Johnny stands at his shoulder, leaning forward to brush his lips across her forehead. He closes his eyes, breathing in the smell of the baby shampoo, stroking his finger across the soft skin of her fist.

“We’re gonna go get your mum, Bee.” Anxiety burns a pit in his stomach, and he pats her cheek softly. She’s sleepy, and he hopes that Price will be able to get her back to bed after they leave.

“Remember.” Price warns, for the third time. He holds the baby against his chest, protectively cradling her head while she snuggles down into the crook of his arm. “You’re not there. Make it quick, and clean.” He claps Gaz on the shoulder gruffly, and levels him with a look.

“I’ll keep an eye on ‘em.” The younger man promises, and Johnny bites back a scoff. Gaz isn’t lying, per se, but the three of them know why it’s him going, and not their captain.

They’re going to slaughter everyone in their path. Johnny is going to paint the walls red with the blood of anyone who’s laid a finger on you. He’s going to do everything they can to get you home, get you to safety.

He's not going to live in this nightmare, this worst case scenario. He's not going to lose you, again.

“Johnny.” Simon murmurs, and he pivots to look at his partner, reading Simon’s face, dark eyes boring into his above the skull balaclava.

It’s the first time Simon has been away from Bee since she appeared in their lives.

It’s the first time his hands will be violent, become weapons, since holding their daughter.

“Ye alright?” He asks softly. Simon nods. His knuckles are tight against the backpack, and Johnny swallows the lump in his throat. “She’s going to be okay.” He’s not sure if he’s talking about you, or Bee. He tries to reassure him, but the words barely trickle out. He can’t even think about it… about you. Sitting in a dark room somewhere, hurt. In pain. Terrified.

He nods.

“She has to be.”

The halls are silent, save for some occasional groans. The sounds of men crying, in pain.

Simon cares for none of them. He's not a solider anymore, but you never unlearn the pattern of violence, the dance of a kill.

And, he would kill them all again without batting an eye, shove his knife into the soft of their bellies over and over to get to you, to find you. To protect you. To protect Bee.

His fingers trace over the top of the tac vest, feeling for the edge of the photograph he brought, a picture of Bee at the park from three weeks ago, the one that was hanging on the fridge.

It comforts him. It grounds him. It reminds him, that’s there more. There’s more than the blood. The violence. The killing. There’s a little girl, at home. Waiting for her dads. Waiting for her mum.

He stares at the photograph for too long, seeking out the patterns that remind him of you, the pieces of his baby that are so like her mother.

He stares, and he stares, and he remembers to breathe. Remembers to move. Remembers where he is. Remembers enough, that he jerks forward when he hears Johnny shout something at him from where he's crouched, his hands pressed to your wounds, passing things back and forth with Gaz as they work on you. On stabilizing you.

On saving you.

“Simon.” Johnny snaps, jolting him from his stupor. "Help me with this." He directs, motioning to the gaping hole that's been torn open in your thigh, the one that bleeds freely.

When he packs a pad of gauze into it, you snap to consciousness with a broken moan.

“Hey, hey darling.” Johnny stammers, and his hands shake as he cradles your face. It’s swollen, and bruised, and your lips are dotted with blood. Your body is a crumpled mess of abuse and torture, physical evidence of their failures, the proof of your punishment for just knowing them. For once loving them. For giving them a child.

You take a long, deep breath. It's a struggle.

"You're he- here."

“Aye, we're here, we're here, love. We've got you.” Johnny chokes. You moan when he touches your neck, the sound hoarse and empty, and Simon wants to scream. He wants to tear through the bodies of of the people in the hall, wants to kill them all over again. Johnny says your name, twice, clear and loudly… and your lashes flutter.

“Keep your eyes open.” Simon demands roughly.

“Bee?” You croak, blinking up at him and he nods, fingers finding the edge of that same photograph, pulling it free.

“She’s safe. She’s at home, waiting for us. All of us.” He turns it towards you, and you squint to focus. The shadow of a smile curves across your face.

"We have to move her." Gaz instructs. He's calm. Clear headed. Simon's never been more grateful.

“We’re gonna get you home, darling.” Johnny promises, grabbing something from Gaz’s hand and pressing it to one of the wounds in your side. It's a bad sign, that you're not crying out in pain over all this. That you don't seem to be feeling it at all. “Stay with us.”

“‘kay.” You whisper, but it’s featherlight, papery thin and Simon swallows through the nausea that’s rising in his throat. You fall into uneasy silence for a second, and then-

"I want- wanted to s-see her, one last time." Your face is wet now, but it's not from blood.

"You will." Johnny shouts and Simon shoves the photo into your hand.

Your ribs stutter. Your lungs are fighting for every draw, and losing.

"You will, you will we promise. She's at home, waiting for you, darling." Simon tries to assure you, and he rests a hand against your forehead gently.

Your fingertip strokes a streak of red across the picture of your baby, dabbing onto her cheek before you look back up at Simon and Johnny with tears in your eyes. You battle yourself to take a deep breath, and then you whisper something they can barely hear as your eyes slip closed.

"Thank you... for bringing the picture."

[daisies-daydreams]

Hi! Can I request of TF141 x Fem! Reader who is cold hearted when going in war but she kind snd smile when helping the civilians and children. Like the tf141 never see Y/n smile after joining the military. And when they see her smile the first time, they felt heart warm and almost cry see Y/n smile as an angel.

Take all the time you want. No need to rush.

Pairing: TF141 x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Category: Fluff & Angst

Warnings: Suggestive Comments, Blood, Injuries, Swearing, Depictions of Child Labor

Word Count: 1.6k+

A/N: Hi! Thank you so much for your request! (I love your incorrect COD quotes btw, they’re so much fun to read! ☺️).

“Bliz”

That’s what you were known as when you were in the SAS. It was short for “Blizzard”, and that you were. Your taciturn and cold demeanor made other soldiers weary of your presence.

“We call her Blizzard cause ‘Ice Queen’ was just too damn long,” you remember on of your fellow soldiers remarking when he thought you couldn’t hear him. Hopefully, you wouldn’t have to deal with such idiocy now that you’ve been recruited into Task Force 141. When you walked into Captain John Price’s office and he congratulated you on being selected, he seemed a bit put off by your stern attitude.

“Thank you for this opportunity, Captain Price,” you replied, your lips in a straight line. The Captain gave you a small smile.

“We’re on the same team now. Just call me Price,” he said. You stood in place and straighter your shoulders.

“I prefer to call my fellow soldiers and superiors by their rank,” you explained with a flat tone.

Your introduction to the rest of 141 went about the same way.

“Hey there! Name’s Soap. Nice to have a new face on the team!” Soap beamed with an outstretched hand. You eyed him up and down, mouth curved in a frown.

“Thanks,” you muttered as you shifted in place. Soap’s hand twitched slightly as he lowered it to his side. He watched you introduce yourself to Ghost and Gaz before you brushed past them.

“Come on. We have a meeting in five,” you stated. The three men watched you walk towards Price’s office for the newest mission’s pre-briefing. Soap clicked his tongue before walking in the same direction with Ghost and Gaz, your frame already out of sight.

“I thought ‘Blizzard’ was just an exaggeration,” Soap muttered.

“She’s SAS-you know the shite she’s probably seen,” Ghost said. Soap sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“Not every girl’s gonna want to get into your pants, Johnny,” Gaz retorted. Soap scoffed.

“That’s not-“ Ghost and Gaz gave him a knowing, sideways glance. Soap huffed through his nose. “Ah, what do you know? Probably haven’t even held hands with a lass,” Soap waved. Gaz’s nostrils flared but he kept walking. The men rounded the corner and stepped into the office. You were standing at the other side of the room, your arms crossed and brows slightly furrowed. Soap could’ve sworn that he saw you narrow your eyes at him.

“Right. Let’s begin,” Price said. A thick layer of unease settled over the room during the prebriefing. Soap would glance over at you every once in a while. You were like a statue, your eyes glued to the Captain as he explained the ins and outs of the mission.

“Your objective is to infiltrate a weapons manufacturing plant in the town of Nahr. It belongs to one of Al-Qatala’s allies: the Riah Sharquia,” Price explained.

“The Eastern Wind?” you asked.

“Never heard of them,” Ghost added. Price nodded.

“They’ve been operating underground for the past ten years. Just announced themselves publicly about a few weeks ago,” he stated. You nodded, gaze intensely set on the Captain.

“Anyway, back to what I was saying. You are to capture the head of the western plant, Adil Malik, and interrogate him,” he continued. “Best to keep your wits about you: These bastards have the region in an iron grip. They’ve been taking local people and forcing them to assemble their weapons…mostly children,” he continued. Your face twisted into a deep scowl, hands clenched into tight fists. It didn’t go unnoticed by Soap.

“Wheels up at seventeen-hundred tonight,” Price said with a nod. Time flew by quickly and before he knew it, Soap was sitting next to you on the flight. You were sandwiched between him and Ghost, the two imposing men towering over you even as you sat down. Gaz sat nearby along with some other soldiers crowded in the bay. Soap leaned over with a cheeky grin.

“Hey, Bliz,” he smiled. You kept your gaze forward, lips sealed tightly. “What smells like red paint but is blue?” Soap snickered. Ghost rolled his eyes, as if he were one to talk about bad jokes.

“Blue paint,” you replied shortly with a straight face. Soap twisted his lips.

“Yeah that’s…that’s right,” he muttered awkwardly. Some soldiers across from you whispered, only to cease when they realized your icy gaze was locked on them. Soap sighed and leaned back as much as he could.

It was going to be a very long flight.

+++

You pushed through the rickety door, splinters flying across the room.

“BLIZ! YOU BETTER GET YOUR ARSE BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!” Ghost barked. You gasped at the sight before you: a group of children huddled together in the corner of the filthy sweatshop. You heard the lieutenant rush up behind you. His eyes widened when he saw the group of gaunt faces.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he seethed while clenching his fists. You stepped forward and pulled your black mask down, revealing a gentle look on your face. A small lump formed in the lieutenant’s throat as he watched you kneel down on one knee.

“It’s okay. We aren’t going to hurt you,” you cooed softly as you slowly held out your hand. A young boy shuffled forward, hesitantly slipping his hand into yours. You helped him up, causing the other children to mutter to each other.

“GHOST! BLIZ! GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE!” Gaz suddenly shouted over the coms. “THEY FUCKING RIGGED THE PLACE TO BLOW!” Both of you exchanged glances before looking back at the kids.

“Aitabieni,” you said calmly. Some children anxiously huddled near your side as you rushed them forward. Ghost surveyed the area before motioning to move.

“Soap, are the exits clear?” Ghost asked.

“Aye,” the Scotsman replied.

A sense of relief washed over you as you saw sunlight pour through a crack in the exit door. A sudden shriek pierced through the hallway, causing you to stop in your tracks. The other children ran past you as you whipped your head around. A young girl was crying as she held her bleeding foot, a shard of glass with crimson on it lying nearby.

“BLIZ! DON’T YOU DARE FUCKING STOP!” Ghost bellowed. You sprinted down the hallway, grabbing the child and scooping her into your arms as you rushed outside. Just as you reached the gate, you heard a rancorous crack behind you.

“(Y/N)!” Ghost shouted. You curled yourself over the small one, keeping your arms wrapped around their head. The shockwaves sent you tumbling forward. Rubble flew past you as you did your best to shield her from the blast. You held onto the child tightly as the ringing in your ears continued to bombard you. The smoke and embers were searing hot as they cascaded from what remained of the building. You coughed when the dust finally began to settle.

You looked down in your arms, relieved to see that the child was still breathing. The young girl had her face nuzzled into your chest, hands white-knuckling your shirt as she sobbed. You heard Ghost's muffled shouting as he ran towards you, helping you while Soap took the little girl. You tried to stand, only to fall on the ground. The world was spinning as Ghost picked you up in his arms.

“Make sure they’re safe,” you smiled weakly before your vision suddenly went black.

+++

You gasped as you shot upwards on a hard surface. You groaned as a throbbing pain shot through your skull. A dark haired man stood near you, his lips curving into a smile when he locked eyes with you.

“She’s awake!” he sang, his voice slightly muffled. You grunted as you tried to sit up, only to fall back down on the scratchy mat.

“Easy there, Bliz,” Soap said as he came to kneel by your side. You blinked a few times, your vision becoming less blurred.

“Where…what?” your voice croaked. Ghost and Gaz stood in the corner, their attention quickly shifting from their conversation over to you. All of you were in a small room, a lamp dimly lighting up the space. You trailed your fingers over your head, feeling at the blood-soaked bandages.

“You took quite the spill out there,” Soap said. He tilted his head towards the man who was preoccupied with preparing some medicine. “Doctor Kaan said he wasn’t too keen to taking in outsiders-but since you saved his wee lass, he made an exception,” the soldier beamed. A small face suddenly appeared behind the unknown man. Your eyes widened when you realized it was the young girl you had rescued from the hallway. She smiled sheepishly as the man turned and patted her head. He swiveled back to look at you, a wide smile on his face and tears in his eyes.

“Thanks to you, my little Emel has come back to me,” he choked. The girl tugged on his shirt. He chuckled as he brought her into his arms, kissing her forehead gently. The doctor stepped closer, holding your hand and shaking it. “Thank you, thank you,” he sobbed repeatedly. Your cheeks tinted with pink as the corners of your mouth finally curved into a complete smile. Soap felt his heart flutter as he stared at your soft, angelic face. Even the corners of Ghost’s eyes crinkled, and Gaz couldn’t help but crack a small grin. Your face truly shined like the sun when you smiled.

“Anything for the little ones,” you beamed.

+++

Epilogue

Soap watched you with a bright smile as you kicked the football back to a group of kids. They giggled and went on with their game. The empty streets before were starting to bustle back to life. Ghost and Gaz were…busy at the moment. Soap strode over to where you were seated. Your peaceful expression shifted into a slight frown.

“What is it, Sergeant MacTavish?” you asked bluntly. His shoulders bounced as he slid next to you.

“You know you can just call me Soap, right?” he nudged your arm. You rolled your eyes, only to flinch when the ball came flying towards you. Soap reached his hands out, catching it just inches from your face. You blinked as he chuckled and threw it back to the kids.

“How’d you do that?” you asked. He looked at you with a glint in his eye.

“I might have a tad bit of practice,” Soap hummed. You gave him an unreadable expression before turning back to the game.

“Thank you…Soap,” you murmured while looking forward. He grinned.

“Anytime, bonnie”.

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

@silverwolf-108

[hihhasotherfixations]

John Price headcanons sfw & nsfw P2

Part 1

Here’s some more of my headcanons for this man. They’re a but all over the place, apologies. But enjoy :3

Sfw:

While he himself is not religious, he was brought up in a Christian family.

Speaking of his family, he unfortunately doesn’t have a very big one. He has a father he barely talks to and older sister. His mother passed away from cancer when he was still a lieutenant and because of it, when he got promoted to captain there was no one around - his sister was caught up and stuck with work. It was not a good time for him. Instead of celebrating his accomplishment, he was alone and stricken with memories and grief.

His dad was incredibly strict growing up and Price’s relationship with him is still very strained to this day because of it.

His late mother was very adamant on not swearing and while he tries to uphold that, he’s also been in the military for 19 years. And sometimes (very often) the danger or his men become too much. This has caused him to adopt swearing even though he tries so hard not to. One of his most used swear words however is ‘jesus- fuck’ as it���s become almost a habit to swear with jesus christ, though he always catches himself last moment and tries to divert from swearing with the religious man’s name and says fuck instead.

Price can’t ride a bike. And I don’t mean a motorcycle, he’s fine with those - really good even. But an actual bike? Man can’t do it. Do I say this purely because I find the thought/image of Price on a bicycle cursed? Yes, yes I do.

Price finds it hard to say ‘no’ to the 141 when it comes to small and inconsequential things. Due to this, there was a time where for over a month, the 141 walked into his office, asked him to doodle a cat and then left without a word. And yet he did so every time, confused but content enough whenever they waddled off with their doodle. What he didn’t expect, was to show up on Christmas morning to find a blanket strewn over the couch in the rec room - it’s print being littered with every small cat he had doodled. It is now one of his favourite things.

Not a headcanon but I wanted to let the world know: Price has a tiny birthmark on his nose and it is the most adorable thing in the world. (Thankfully I’m seeing more people bringing attention to it >:3) Because of it, if you repeatedly kiss his nose for that reason? To kiss the birthmark? He’s gonna get really flustered really quickly. Not much will bring this man to a stop mid order-giving, but that would shut him up real quick ;3

He does not like singing but you can often catch him humming when doing something such as cooking or cleaning. He doesn’t really realise he’s doing it so don’t point it out! Otherwise he’s gonna be conscious of it and you won’t hear it for a month or two.

Terrible at golf. Gaz once took him golfing cause he thought that’s something Price enjoyed/was good at. It in fact turned into Price getting frustrated and nearly obliterating the golfbal with how hard he hit it. He gave up after that.

This is more logistics that I keep for myself but Price was in the British army for 4 years before he moved to enlist in the SAS.

Loves, loves, loves playing with your hair if you let him. Sitting/cuddling on the couch? His fingers are touching it in some way. Kissing? His hand is keeping your head near his via the back of your neck and his thumb will be rubbing back and forth over the hair there.

Pretty sure 90% of people share this headcanon but good LORD his sneezes. They are loud and you can hear him from across the field. He then proceeds to shrug it off like they’re nothing.

Man has the sharpest and loudest finger whistle and 100% uses it on his men to get their attention. Both the 141 and the soldiers he reigns over as captain. It’s a noise ingrained into every single person who has served with him and will get them to shoot straight and pay attention instantly.

This is a little more niche. But this man sucks at almost every game except for survival games. FPS? Absolute shit, will get maybe one bullet to hit before dying. Horror? While he doesn’t jump at the jump scares, if he is being chased by a monster or a killer, you can almost guarantee he will die. But survival games?? Give him the forest (kinda) or Subnautica to play and this man will absolutely tear it up. You can leave him for an hour or two and when you come back he’ll have crafted a base and be halfway through the game.

This includes Minecraft. Kinda. Man is an absolute god at building, but do not send him into the mines. You will see a message pop up of him falling into lava or dying by mobs every 5 minutes.

Basically any game where he’s not in constant danger, he’s fine.

Avid peanut butter enjoyer.

If Price were to ever have children, he would try very hard to give them the childhood he never had. He would not deny those kids of anything. They want to go outside in the rain to play in the mud? Alright, let him get the raincoats, he’ll wash the dirty, muddy clothes later (he is 100% out there with his kids, splashing them or letting them push him into puddles).

In the same vein, he would try very hard to separate work and life. Sure he might need to get stern sometimes and tell the rambunctious rascals off, but he tries very hard to do so in his dad voice, not in his captain voice. It would still happen sometimes though and he’d feel absolutely awful. Especially if he makes his kids cry because of it.

One of his favourite songs is Escape by Rupert Holmes (The piña colada song). You can oftentimes hear it and songs like that softly playing in his office while he’s doing paperwork.

Not really a headcanon and don’t ask me why, but this donkey is giving me Price vibes: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJV6o5cB/

While he smokes cigars, he’s not at all a chain smoker. Usually saves them for moments where he feels he earns them (after a mission, completing paperwork he really didn’t want to do etc), high stress, or when he’s really craving one.

In a similar topic, he hates cigarettes. Tried one when he was younger, hated it and instead unfortunately took over the cigar habit from his father (when said man was home). Because of this however, he can’t stand to smoke with Laswell. She tries sometimes - cause while she’s trying to quit, it’s hard - but Price only allows it if she’s upwind from him, blowing her smoke away from him.

He stubs his toe SO often. Don’t get me wrong, when out on the field, every step is calculated and precise and you will never in your life see him slip up. It’s a different matter entirely when he’s on leave or just around base though. His body doesn’t need to be on edge 24/7 anymore. Which means that if you’ve served under him, you’ve heard him curse out a door for daring to stand open in the way it did. When he’s at home with you? Double so. He tends to walk around without shoes at home - logically so. Which means his poor toes meet cupboards, table/chair legs and doors a bit too often. He’ll swear less when at home tho, more… take-a-deep-breath-to-control-the-rage kind of reaction.

For the love of god, call him pretty. It’s just- it does something with him. He’s heard handsome, rugged, manly, weathered, etc. And don’t get me wrong, if you call him any of those? Pride bursts through his chest and he’ll make sure to repay you in kind. But if it’s just you and him on the couch, leaned into each other, the tv softly playing? Just a quiet moment? And you call him pretty? It heals something in him.

Has once overheard soldiers insulting/mocking his facial hair and definitely made them shit themselves when he appeared behind them with his full 6”2 (188cm) buffed up captain stance - arms crossed with the most vicious glare you can even imagine. Also definitely made them run until they dropped and then do it again or gave them toilet duty for a month. It also definitely wasn’t only one time he overheard someone.

He’s an absolute history buff. At one point he seriously considered to become a history teacher but at that point he was too far into his military career. He didn’t feel like he could leave his men. It also felt like he’d have wasted years of his life and going back to school wasn’t really on his ‘want to do’ list at that age. So instead he opted he’d be of better use to the world right where he was.

If you allow him to infodump however? He will absolutely tell you the most random facts. Disturbing ones too. He just wants to tell you cool facts, its a way of showing love :)

Quality time often consists of him sitting beside you while you do whatever. He’s either reading a book or doing a puzzle, if he can he will have one hand on your thigh, absentmindedly rubbing it while his mind is elsewhere (its a bit hard when he does puzzles with one hand, but he makes it work)

In the vein of those puzzles, he absolutely LOVES them. If you come home with a newspaper saying “I got this for you!” and show him the not-yet-made puzzle, he will absolutely fall a little bit more in love with you every time. That’s his form of you coming home with roses for him.

Ridiculously good at crosswords. Very rarely has to look up an answer. He also tends to ask you out loud. Not per se to actually ask you though. It’s more of a way of thinking out loud. “What’s a six letter word for a cloud formation in space? …Nebula, thank you.” And then just moves on without you ever having said a word, not even realising he does it.

He always feels guilty when leaving you for long periods of time due to work. Tries very hard to make up for it, even if you assure him he doesn’t have to.

He does things while on missions that he is not proud of. He does not tell you any of the more inhumane things he’s done because he’s terrified it’ll change your perception of him.

These moments haunt his every moment however. Sleeping and awake. You are his only escape.

He is not proud of a lot of things. But the 141 is one of them.

Kyle is one of the most prominent ones. From when he found him in Piccadilly to the elite soldier he is today, Price is incredibly proud of who he’s become. Though he’s also very worried for the danger he’s put the younger man in by dragging him into this world.

Price also makes sure to look after Ghost. Strangely enough, he feels almost responsible for what happened to Ghost despite him having nothing to do with it. Because of it however, he feels very protective over the man and tries to treat him the best he can.

Soap is someone who he sees a lot of himself in. So he always tries to push the man to be better than he was. Price sees the potential Soap has in furthering his military career and if the moment came to it, he’d recommend the man for a promotion in a heartbeat. Soap is someone he always trusts in.

He has a lot of scars on his body from his years of service. If he feels you run your fingers over the scar and you ask him about them, he’s okay with telling you about how he got it. Even if he spares the details sometimes.

Lastly, if Laswell and her wife ever got a child, Price would 100% be the favourite uncle and regular babysitter whenever he’s off deployment.

That’s it for the regular headcanons again :3 Please respect the banner and onto depravity.

Nsfw:

Whenever he’s making out with you, he LOVES having a hand on your throat. Not to squeeze. Never to squeeze. He does not like the thought of choking you at all, brings bad memories. But he is addicted to the thrum of your heartbeat underneath his fingertips. The submission that comes with it as you let him hold a place so vulnerable while he attacks your lips.

Doesn’t have to be during sex either. You two can be cuddling on the couch and he’ll gently pull you in by your neck or throat and press his lips into yours. Or push you up against the wall by it when you greet him as he comes home. Just let him hold you and move you like that.

Fingerprint bruises. Oh my god he properly leaves them whenever you two are having an especially… passionate night.

Don’t get him wrong though! He’ll kiss the bruises and apologise after, even if seeing them sends a flutter down his spine. Loves walking up to you and slotting his fingers right over the marks, careful and appreciative as his hands fill up the spots.

Man loves biting and nipping any place of you he can reach. Have I mentioned how much he loves leaving his marks on you? Hickeys and imprints of his teeth e v e r y w h e r e. (Won’t go above the collar if you don’t want him to)

Depending on how okay you are with it, he’ll definitely bite hard. He’s holding you in a mating press, kissing you to hell and back and when his hips start to stutter, when that telltale spark begins to come up, he’ll divert to where your neck meets your shoulder and bite while fucking the last few strokes into you, muffling his groans and noises of pleasure into your skin.

He has once broken skin while doing it, he felt absolutely awful after it. Immediately after coming down from his high and realising what he did, he went to go get the med kit from the bathroom. Naked and sweaty, he waddled away and back, concern and guilt as he disinfected the wound and dressed it, pressing a million apologies to you.

While it is rare to get him to actually fully give the reins to you and be submissive, when he does, call him by his honorifics still. Praise him with them. “You’re doing so good for me, captain” , “Are you feeling good, sir?” Whisper things like that in his ear and he’ll be whining and desperate for you like never before.

Man has a raging breeding kink. Will absolutely fill you up as many times if he can. Just the sight of seeing his cum leaking out of you instantly gets him going for a second round. The possessive side of him comes out thanks to the thought of you walking around with a piece of him inside you.

I don’t know if I mentioned it in p1 of this but he’s an absolute aftercare KING. Literally won’t want you to do anything. He’s cleaning you up with a towel first and foremost, gentle and careful - especially if he was a little rougher that day. After that, if you’ll let him, he’ll run a bath or shower for you and gently wash you himself. Kisses, cuddles and clean sheets are all in his service.

[criminalamnesia]

If it's not too much would you consider a roommates! Gaz and Soap where you need temporary housing and they offer to put you up for a couple of months in return for some housekeeping and cooking? But then it's awkward sharing a space with three people and two bedrooms so you end up a free use maid ✨

so I’ve been thinking about this,,, and I’m actually changing your idea a little bit (I hope that’s okay!)

also I got completely carried away with this and I miiight already be thinking about a part two where things get a little spicier, like you asked! 👀 keep a look out :))

(also I will 100% write for roommate!johnny&gaz eventually but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head!)

you’re soap’s sister, and when you tell him you need a place to stay, he doesn’t hesitate.

it didn’t click in his mind how your moving in may pose a problem until he’s helping you pack your stuff into a van.

one— he lives with gaz, and he may have forgotten to tell his roommate that they’re adding a third to their already small apartment.

two— there’s only two bedrooms.

gaz was currently on a special assignment, so these two things weren’t a huge problem at the moment. johnny shoots his teammate a text, informing him of the predicament and apologizing for just now telling him.

gaz responds, obviously a little peeved, and johnny’s suddenly absorbed in his phone, trying to soothe ruffled feathers and make this work.

you’re huffing as you keep shoving boxes into the van, your muscly brother now too preoccupied to continue helping.

“little help here, johnny?” you call from the trunk, and johnny startles from his spot leaning against the side of the truck.

by the time he clicks his phone off and resumes helping you, him and gaz have settled things.

you’d have johnny’s bedroom. johnny could sleep in gaz’s room until gaz got back home. and the rest would be worked out at a later date.

————————————————

you’ve never met gaz before. sure, johnny has told you all about his teammates and his roommate in particular, but you’ve never actually met the man until now.

he makes you screech in terror, holding the broom you’d been using to sweep the kitchen up like a sword. he chuckles.

“how’d you get in here?” your eyes are wide, taking in the man in front of you, and then it clicks. you remember the pictures johnny had shown you.

this was gaz.

and fuck, he was hot.

“I live here, love.” he says, his tone obviously amused as he looks you up and down. “gonna put that down? or will I be sporting some broom-shaped bruises for the next week?”

“oh, sorry—” you scramble to put the broom down, leaning it against one of the kitchen counters. “I didn’t hear you come in, and johnny didn’t tell me you’d be home today.”

“he didn’t know,” gaz shrugged, walking further into the kitchen now that your weapon of choice had been set aside. “where is he, by the way? we’ve got a lot of talking to do. gotta figure out this room situation.”

you pick at your cuticles anxiously as you shuffle out of the way, allowing gaz to open the fridge. he grabs a bottle of water and twists the lid off, and you’re mesmerized.

wait, what?

you mentally shake yourself from your stupor.

“um, he’s at the gym i think. he should be home soon.”

gaz nods, taking a swig from his water. his eyes settle on you once more as he shuts the fridge door.

“but about the bedrooms,” you start, taking a step towards him. “johnny can have his back. im fine with the couch, and—”

“oh, absolutely not, love. I’d sooner take the couch than make you sleep on it.”

“no no,” you say, shaking your head. “I’ve already caused enough problems by moving in. please let me—”

he cuts you off again with a dazzling smile. “it’s settled, love. you’re not sleeping on the couch. and your moving in isn’t a problem, trust me.”

damn, he’s smooth. you feel your cheeks getting hot, and you have to force yourself to look away from him before you melt.

“okay, well, if you won’t let me take the couch, at least let me do the chores and stuff, yeah? it’s not like I have much else to do,” you tell him with a dry chuckle. the whole reason you’d resorted to moving in with johnny was because you were between jobs right now.

you quite literally had all the time in the world to help around the apartment.

kyle almost looks like he’s going to protest again, but he doesn’t. he must see how much you want to do this, how badly you feel for ‘interrupting’ (you’re absolutely not, and although he’d been miffed about johnny not asking him about you moving in at first, he couldn’t care less now. you were stunning).

at his silence, you give a firm nod. “alright then,” you grin, and he matches your expression. “nice to finally meet you, gaz.”

“kyle,” he says, and your smile widens the tiniest bit.

“kyle.” you say, as if testing the word out on your tongue.

“sis, y’home? I was thinking chinese for dinner!” johnny calls out as the door to the apartment opens. he steps inside, toeing off his shoes before rounding the corner to the kitchen.

“you shite!” johnny laughs out as he spots gaz in the kitchen. they both chuckle, embracing each other in short hug, slapping each other on the back.

“y’broken?” you hear johnny ask, and gaz shakes his head.

“nah, all good.”

johnny nods, patting gaz on the shoulder before his eyes shift to you.

“see y’ve met my sis,” he says, moving towards you and ruffling your hair. you groan, slapping at his hand. gaz laughs. “hope she hasn’ given ya trouble.”

“I just came in,” gaz says, eyes meeting yours for a brief moment.

“so she hasn’ had the chance yet, then,” johnny jokes, and you roll your eyes. “chinese alrigh’ gaz?”

the other man nods, and the two soldiers fall into familiar conversation. you feel as though you’re intruding, and you attempt to slip out of the kitchen unnoticed, but gaz stops you by mentioning your name.

“I was just telling your sister that she’s not sleeping on the couch,” he tells johnny, and then his eyes slide to you. you look sheepish, like a kid caught with their hand in a cookie jar.

“oh, o’course not,” johnny agrees. “I can take the couch, she’s my sister.”

“we could switch, yeah?” kyle looks at johnny. “that couch isn���t that comfortable, mate. I don’t wanna be hearin’ you complain about your back in a few days.”

johnny laughs, but nods. “sounds good. looks like you’re livin’ the life then, aye?” he says to you, and you open your mouth to speak, but kyle beats you to it.

“actually, we were just talking about all that. your lovely sister here was saying she’d like to keep the flat clean.”

“s’that so?” johnny questions, eyebrows raised as he looks at you. “y’don’t have to do that.”

“I want to, johnny. it’s the least I can do after barging in on your lives.”

you can tell by the look on your brother’s face that he’s going to argue, so you swiftly cut him off.

“no arguments! it’ll give me something to do anyways.”

johnny concedes, then excuses himself to shower. you tell him you’ll order the food as he leaves the kitchen.

you and kyle are alone again, and his eyes are trained on you. you clear your throat before fishing your phone out of your pocket.

“what’s your order?” you ask him.

kyle grins. he knows what he’s doing to you.

god, this was going to be an interesting stay.

—————————————————

author’s note:

this is my first time really writing both johnny and Kyle, so I apologize if they seem ooc!