#anyways john mactavish be my husband NOW!!!!!

[robiinurheart33]

The devil works hard but soap fans work harder

[chaosandmarigolds]

Dad!Simon who insisted you go on the vacation, because of course he can handle his baby girl and his six year old (almost six, but Ollie rounds up)

Simon who knew he had it in the bag....

for about two hours

Simon who made bagels for dinner; wassss this close 🤏to making Ollie eat dirt because WHAT DO YOU MEAN you don't like bagels now you were begging for them in the store!

Simon who made it about forty hours before he gave him and called Johnny

Simon who had no idea why Ollie was being so gosh darn annoying

Simon who had previously made a bet with Price that he wouldn't need help so therefore he would rather die than call Price even though Ollie idolizes his 'grandfather'

''s Johnny, missed ya but leave a message at the lil' beep."

"John MacTavish I swear to god if you don' call me back in ten minutes I will personally post thos' pictures of ya in Afgan."

two minutes later-

"ya know that's a real low blow-"

"I need you to take Oliver to th' park- Tessie isn't goin to sleep with him 'roun."

"Call the capn, he's closer to ya."

"I will not do that."

"Ugh, fine- lemme tell my girl then'll be there in twenty."

Simon who told Oliver to behave for his uncle and then happily sent them away- which finally he would be able to put the exhausted newborn to sleep

Simon was finally able to doze off on the sofa, the baby happily snoozing away on his chest and everything seemed perfect with the world

"MISTER RILEY UNCLE JOHNNY IS IS-HES-" The thundering slam of the door being swung open not only woke up Simon but the baby who aptly began to sob to the sudden change of pace, Oliver however did not care "UNCLE JOHNNY SUCKS."

Uncle Johnny told Ollie not to kick the ball into the river

Simon who is flabbergasted because even Johnny looked shook to his core, sure they had been at the park for about five hours but like-???

John MacTavish...brought down .... by Simon's six year old

Simon who, after ten minutes of the baby screaming for their mother and refusing to take their bottle with disgruntled wails of pain and Ollie so tired he can't think straight so he's also a sobbing and angry disaster and Johnny's just standing there by the door waiting for answers and everything is so loud-

"Capn?"

"Oh! Hi, sweetheart," John's wife answered the landline and he could hear her voice call for her husband, "Hi, how are you and lil' ones?"

Simon looked at Ollie who was currently in time out for stealing his sisters binkie for the tenth time, "Not great."

"O-"

"Simon." Price's voice cut in and it took about five seconds to get everything account for, "Ya already called Johnny right?"

"Yessir."

"Did you try Kyle?"

"No sir, he's on his honeymoon."

'"Ah-that's right, that's right."

Silence

"Sir I would like your help."

"Ha! Knew it! Alrighty, missus and I'll be there in...i dunno- you boys hungry? She made that-honey whatcha make?" indistinct conversation, "Ma'am said it didn't matter, she'll bring it anyway. Forty minutes?"

Simon looked at Johnny, who was on 'keep ollie in said time out' picking up the kid whenever he would try and run off. "Can you make it twenty, sir?"

Simon and Johnny who, out of habit, stood at attention as soon at the captain let himself into the house

Simon who looked a bit worse for wear, even with his non existant sleep scheulde in the military he had never looked so fatigued

Simon who had the baby out of his arms by Price's wife within two minutes of them being there

Simon who loves his son, he loves him (internal mantra) but he is making him look bad to his captain so the little twerp better get his act together.

"Riley."

"Yessir."

"How long is your block?"

"Two kilometers around."

"Two laps."

faltering silence through the house, Simon stared at the captain as he helped Ollie tie his sneakers by the door. The silence did mean Tessie had finally fallen asleep but he was- "I'm sorry?"

"Two laps, you, Johnny, and Oliver." Price looked to the kid, who looked more angry at the world than anything else, "Go. Dinner will be ready when you get back."

Simon was about to argue but Ollie beat him to it, "I don't want to run."

"You don't want to run?"

Oliver seemed a bit taken back, "No. So I'm not going to."

"Okay. You can clean the entire house- including your sisters nappy's, for a week, yeah?"

A pause.

"Fine, i'll go on the stupid run."

Simon who might as well be walking with the pace Oliver chose to keep

Johnny who took off sprinting because lord knew that man was starving and Mrs. Price's food was heaven on earth

Simon who sat down on the side of the road when the little guy was out of breath

Simon that mostly ran in silence until Ollie broke it

"Why did mom leave?"

huh?

"What?"

"Mom she-she just...she left us, wh-"

"Whoa-whoa whoa, mum didn't leave-mum didn't leave us wh-whoa, Olls," he had collapsed to his knee when the boy started to speak just to look at him in the eyes and he tried to read the boys expression, "Mum would never leave you, she loves you so much."

"Then where did she go?? Why didn't she say goodbye?"

"She's with her friends, and her flight left 'fore you woke up, Olls. Laddie, she wouldn't leave you."

Simon who had called you, even though there was time difference as everyone was sitting down to eat dinner

"oh...wow the gang's back together," You grumble as you rub your eyes, having been dead asleep, only for the camera angle to change suddenly and it was just a close up angle of your son's face, "Hi baby."

"Mom guess what Uncle Johnny did."

"EY, LET'S NOT TELL YER MOM BOUT THAT."

"Hey mom?" The boy was easily distracted and then looked down at the phone again.

"Yeah baby?"

"Never go on away again, dad said so."

You stay silent for a moment, blinking, because in all three years you and Simon had been together Ollie had never referred to him as 'dad' or anything remotely close. "Your...right, yeah-I'm pretty bored here anyway."

Simon, who was fine with you going on little getaways just not anymore how dare you try and leave him alone

"You sure it's okay if I stay a few more days?"

With a short laugh he looks over the living room, where Johnny and Olls were fast asleep watching some cartoon he didn't know the name of while John and His wife had chosen to stay in the guest room for the night. It would hell if you stayed for a few more days.

"Of course, luv, I got the boys an' Tessie needs to learn who they are anyway."

"I guess. Okay, the ride is here. I love you."

"I love you more."

(annnnway that's it <333 any comments you wanna leave or anything like that makes my day!)

[ceilidho]

‘John price with a single mother this’ ‘Simon Riley with a single mother that’

Yeah yeah keep yapping. Now ME? I think we’re seriously undervaluing the sheer perfection that is Johnny fucking MacTavish with a single mother. He’s insufferable. If there’s an opportunity to worm his way into your life permanently, he’s taking it. My brains fixated on newly moved in neighbour reader and Johnny just comes back from being deployed and there’s this pretty woman next door and woah! bonus points! She has a baby!

He’s bouncing off the walls. He’s sick. Almost first thing he does after seeing you come in and out the flats alone a few times is ask if your lad is around. Has to try so hard to pretend to be sympathetic when you say he did a runner when he found you you were pregnant.

He’s actually spectacular with babies. Makes a point of it whenever he sees you with the kid too; always makes her chuckle, goes out of his way to prove that he’s great with kids. Works his way into it, builds a rapport so when you’re called into work for an emergency you just can’t miss the first person you go to for babysitting is Johnny. When you get back, he’s ‘asleep’ on the couch with the baby on his chest and you just don’t have it in you to wake him so you just sit on the other end of the couch and wait. When he does ‘wake up’ it’s a bit late to be kicking him out so you just offer to let him stay night (this becomes a reoccurring theme).

Starts referring to the you and baby as ‘the bairn’ and ‘his lass’ long before he even asks you out. Asked out for drinks? No, sorry. He’s got to go home to his lass and the bairn. Is he busy this weekend? Yeah he’s taking his lass and the bairn to the amusements. Frequently confuses work colleagues and friends alike because when did Johnny have time to A. Get a girl and B. Shag her enough to knock her up???? Will NOT correct anyone who calls him your husband or the baby’s dad, and will actually get upset if you do.

The moment you agree to go out with him he’s micromoving you into his flat (he’s already looking for houses). Has pictures of you and the baby up on his wall in less than an hour of you being his girlfriend. The ‘spare’ crib is already assembled. He’s already picked a ring. He’s insane. He’s in love. He’s known you for like three months. He’s already got the next like two pregnancies planned out (he wants a big family. No he hasn’t asked you yet). Actually kind of deludes himself into forgetting the baby isn’t his biological child. Wdym it’s not his kid it looks exactly like him??? I think he would actually get a little violent if the baby’s father randomly popped up demanding visitation out of the blue. Said baby’s father is not heard from again.

Anyways I’m insane and in love with Johnny MacTavish and his silly deranged ways send tweet

i want you to know that i woke up to get some water in the middle of the night and happened to check my phone and see this and i had to physically hold myself back from answering it at like. 3am.

first of all, i love you. second of all? i love this. i have been repeating "his lass and the bairn" in my head for like five hours now. johnny deluding himself into thinking the baby is actually his? that little gasp you heard was the last little bit of air in my lungs escaping before i expired and died.

there's no way he wouldn't end up saying something batshit crazy like "look at his wee little nose - just like his daddy's huh?" and you'd just be frozen staring at the two of them. maybe your baby's nose does look a little like johnny's but - that doesn't mean - is he just joking or -?

[4me2knowandyou2wonder]

Soap not telling his family anything about ghost because his existence is classified.

Ghost finally retiring and getting a new identity

(Simon Mactavish)

And Soap finally bringing him to the giant family Christmas reunion like his husband hasn’t been a secret for *years*

*gaslighting ensues*

“John, who is this?”

“Mom, what? This is Simon? My husband? Stop pulling ma leg.”

Ghost brought the marriage paperwork to prove that they have been married for 5+ years. Then he goes. “You guys do this every year,”

LIKE HES MET THEM BEFORE.

And he used his skills to profile everyone there before so he can now act like he HAS met them before.

And everyone is like, John???

And soapghost just go ‘ha ha funny bit Simon doesn’t exist’ ‘will you guys ever drop that one?’

This is a stupid idea. I shouldn’t post it but. I’m going to anyway. I’m sorry I’m just avoiding doing my uni work I’ll delete it later.

[daddypriceugh]

Mr. And Mrs. Mactavish

*************************

I saw that you guys want fluff so I'm giving you fluff :)

I will maybe upload another fic today, if I don't fall asleep (it's 10:30 pm here)

Anyway enjoy this one <3

Tw: nothing just fluff

*************************

Today is the day you've never thought would come. It just always seemed unreal. But here you are, standing in your wedding dress in front of the church door waiting for the music to announce your entrance.

Your nerves are playing wild and your body feels on fire. What if you trip? What if he changes his mind? What if-

"Are you alright?"

A voice interrupts your thoughts. You look to your left to see John Price standing next to you, with a worried look on his face.

" Yeah I'm fine. Just nervous"

He nods in understanding and takes your hands in his.

"Trust me it's gonna be okay. Hell don't worry about him changing his mind, I've never seen someone that wipped for a girl before"  he says while laughing at the last part.

A chuckle escapes your throat, which then tightens again when you heard the music start playing.

"Ok ok no panic (Y/N)" you tell yourself, trying to calm down.

You take a deep breath and nod at John, giving your ok to enter the church. He smiles at you and links his arm with yours.

You tear up at the gesture, knowing that your father would have loved to walk you down the aisle.

John had become like a father figure to you -even though he's not that much older- and you're more than grateful that he said yes to walking you into your new chapter of life.

The heavy doors open and you can see the guests standing up at the sound, all of them turning their heads to see the bride.

You take one step after another, gripping John's hand in yours. Looking around you see familiar faces like your mother and some aunts, but the most important person to you was standing at the altar.

Turning your head you lock eyes with him. Time seems to slow down as you take i the sight of him. Damn does he looks handsome. His mohawk was freshly cut and he wore a new black suit with a red tie.

It may look like a unoriginal outfit, but to you it is perfect.

A smiles forms on your face when you stand directly in front of him. John hands him your hand over and shoots a threatening look. It was the "if you ever hurt her I will personally kill you" look.

Before leaving to go to Johnny's man in honor side to stand next to Gaz and Ghost, he gives you a small kiss on your forehead, whispering "I'm proud of you" against it.

Now it was just Johnny and you. Two people that love each other more than words can describe.

The pastor says the usual things but you hear nothing. You just stare into your soon-to-be-husbands eyes, and you could swear to see tears swelling in them.

The pastor speaks up.

"It is now time for the vows"

You take a deep breath and start talking:

"Johnny, I have loved you since the moment I saw you. It was the way you introduced yourself, the way you saved my ass on many missions, it was the way you held me after my father died and it were the many things in-between. You made and still make my life perfect. I finally found a reason to life and I'm glad I get to spend the time with you. You are perfect in any way imaginable. I love you dearly and I will stay by your side in good and bad times"

Your voice cracks midway, tears streaming down your face. But it seems that your fiancé feels the same way. He doesn't hide his emotions anymore embraces the tears.

It was no his turn and he grabs your right hand and puts it on his heart.

"Dearie, you absolutely make me the happiest man alive. I'm blessed to wake up with you next to me evey day. I can't think of something better anymore. I love the way you laugh at all my stupid jokes that I tell the Lieutenant. It seems that his skull is too thick to understand our humour"

Laughter goes through the room, even Simon chuckles at the mentioning of his name.

"I love everything about you and that will never stop. Even after my death. I love you from the bottom of my heart."

You smile at him and place your hand on his cheek.

The pastor raises his hands and announces the moments you have been waiting for.

"I now announce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride"

Not waiting a second longer, Johnny pulls you by your waist and presses his lips to yours. Applause rings through the crowd and people cheer.

The kiss doesn't last long but it's perfect. Johnny then suddenly lifts you up and carries you towards the exit, and your friends and family follow.

Time skip:

The evening goes smooth. People are laughing and having fun. You are currently sitting on your husbands lap after having danced to two songs.

Head laying on his shoulder while you're admiring him, tracing every scar with your thumb.

"And how does it feel to be married"

"Feels incredible my darlin'. Absolutely the best feeling ever" You hum in response looking up to him. He catches your stare and smiles.

"I hope you won't grow tired of me Mr. Mactavish"

"I would never in my life. I promise you that Mrs. Mactavish"

You laugh and move you face to his to meet in a kiss. This time it's more passionate, full of love and excitement for what the future holds.

[the-froschamethyst4]

Lingerie

➤Day 4

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Soap x Wife! F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: Smut, NSFW, married couple, language, P in V, dirty talking, teasing, moaning, riding, a bit of cat and mouse,

𖤐Summary: Soap was out with his friends leaving his wife Y/n alone and bored at their house. So, she deices to tease him by taking photos of herself in new lingerie sets, she bought

—————

—————

10:14PM

Soap was at a bar with his friend talking, having fun, guy talks, the usual. Soap chuckled when Price was brought up the good times in the Military and how when they would be on breaks. They would always come to bars picking up girls but now they come to bars to talk and reminisce about the good times.

Soap took a swing from his glass and smiled at the good times. As he placed his glass back on the counter, he felt his phone buzz in his back pocket.

He pulled his phone out seeing his wife Y/n was texting him. He smiled at the name 'My Wife' pop up.

My Wife: *How's the bar?*

Soap: *Great, I'll be home in a little bit*

My Wife: *Get a Taxi or UBER, I don't want to look on the News that John MacTavish was in a car accident*

Soap: *Of course, my love, I would never drink and drive, I want to live to be with you forever*

My Wife: *Good get home safely*

Y/n smiled at her phone at her husband's texts. She placed her phone on her side of the bed and got up off the bed and grabbed some Victoria Secret bags, she had gone shopping not too long ago and got new lingerie sets.

She removed her clothes to where she was completely naked, she grabbed the first set putting it on, it was a lacy baby blue set, it was beautiful.

She walked to full body mirror checking herself out and seeing if her butt looked perfect in the set. She grabbed her phone and took a picture of her butt, she was turned legs spread a little, her left hand on her thigh and her phone over her shoulder and took a photo. She smiled and took another one. She squatted down, she opened her legs just a little bit and took a picture.

She saved the two and went onto another set. She changed till she was naked again and grabbed a baby pink set, she put it on and got on the bed, she laid on her stomach. Her legs crossed her feet behind her head, and she pushed her arms to her chest to make her boobs look bigger.

For a while she did a small photoshoot in the different sets, she bought. She laid on her stomach on the bed in one of her last sets, it was a cute black set, she bit her thumb nail a little bit nervous if she should send them Soap.

But she did it anyways. She sent them and tossed her phone to the side, like she just sent a risky text to her crush confessing her love to him.

Soap felt his phone buzz, he pulled it out and looked down at the notification seeing 'My Wife sent 10 photos' he was confused. He opened his phone and almost spit out his beer when he saw the pictures of his wife half-naked.

"Bloody hell," he mumbles.

"What's going on, Soap?" Price asked.

Soap quickly put his phone down. "Huh? Nothing," he said. "I have to get going," Soap said. He paid his tab and grabbed his keys and phone and headed out the bar and called an UBER.

Y/n stayed in her lingerie set and now, she was going to fix herself something to eat. She was shaking a little bit, Soap hasn't said anything, but she saw where he had read the message.

Y/n heard a door shut from the outside, she peaked outside and saw Soap rushing to the front door. She didn't know what to do, she was stunned till the door busted open.

She yelps when she sees Soap stare at her like she was the last meal, he'll ever have.

"Soap-"

"Don't you 'Soap' me, Mrs.MacTavish," he walks around the little island in the middle of the kitchen and Y/n walked the other way little she was trying to get away from him. He jumps on the island and chases after her, like a wolf chasing a lamb.

"W-Wait, Soap," Y/n absolutely hated being chased. She ran to the bedroom; she closed the door but didn't get enough time to lock it, Soap pushed the door open, and quickly and swiftly pulled her up and held her.

His lips crashed onto her lips, turning into a heated make out session.

"Why are you running, my love? You're the one being a tease, you're the one teasing me, this is what you caused," she could feel his hardened dick being pushed against her clit.

"Ah~" she moans.

She heard him mess with his belt and pulled his dick out, she felt him push himself inside of her. He started to make her bounce up and down, she was a moaning mess. He pushed her against one of the walls in their bedroom.

He held her waist, she was leaning back her back against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands touching his lower stomach.

He started to thrust fast inside of her, she could see his dick bulging from her lower stomach. She moaned and felt tears threating to fall from her eyes.

He held her waist with one hand and his other hand started to remove his shirt, her hands touched his veiny, slightly hairy lower half.

"Ahh~" she moans when she felt herself become tight around his dick letting him know she was close to coming.

He ignored her sign on letting him know and kept thrusting into her. Soap's hands were tightening around her waist definitely leaving some fingernail marks in her skin.

"Ahh~" she moans.

Soap was grunting and slamming into a little bit harder with each thrust. She scratched at his stomach leaving a bit bloody scratch marks.

She came on his dick, but he kept thrusting inside of her, it was his turn. He kept thrusting faster, but they also became a little bit sloppy as well.

She tossed her head back and her eyes closed loving the feeling of him pushing against her g-spot and she felt hot liquid seep out of her lower half.

"H-Holy fuck," she moans. Soap's forehead landed on her shoulder.

"God, you feel so good," Soap whispered in her ear.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his neck.

---------

Soap was under Y/n as she was riding him, she bounced up and down on him. He moans as one hand was on her waist and his other behind his head as he watched her do all the work.

He smirked as her head went back, both her hands on his chest, he licked the corner of his mouth, he used his one hand behind his head and held her waist, he pulled her down and started to kiss her lips.

She rocked her hips back and forth. She felt like coming again not till Soap came first. He pulled out and Y/n's lower half and cum leaked from her.

"Soap," she moans.

"Did you learn your lesson on teasing?"

"Fuck no," she moans.

"Oh, should we go for round 4 then, so you could learn your lesson?"

"Do it then," she teased.

Soap picked her up taking her to the bathroom and ripped her lingerie off her body, he started up the shower, he got in and the water was absolutely cold. She moans and pushes her body against his trying to get warm.

"Ah S-Soap."

"You asked for if, love," he says as he kissed her lips and walked under the cold water before it got hot and steamed up the entire bathroom.

He pushed himself back inside of her and pushed her body against the cold tile of the shower. Her back arched and she pushed against him.

"S-Soap," she moans one more time.

He looks down at his dick bulging from her stomach. Her head hit the tile behind her head.

"Ahh~" Soap was going a little bit harder than before and she felt like coming again. From all the pleasure she was getting she felt like coming a lot more early than usual.

---------

Soap sat on the bed waiting for Y/n to get done with doing her nightly routine. Y/n's legs were shaking, and he could see her just barely standing.

Soap stood up and picked her up setting her on the sinks counter. He licked his lips before kissing hers and helped her with the rest of her routine.

Once he was done, he took her back to the bed.

"Did I hurt you at all?"

"No, I'm fine, my legs are just shaking is all," she smiles.

She got on her side of the bed and got under the covers, Soap joined too and pulled her close to his body.

"Good night, okay?"

"Yeah, good night," she kissed his lips as his arms wrapped around her waist.

[auspicioustidings]

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 8 (Final)

A Red, Red Rose

Summary: A bombshell is dropped and you look to the future. Words: 2k TWs: mention of miscarriage

So I've lost interest in this fic hence why we have a rushed wrap up because I didn't just want to abandon it :') All parts - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

“We gonna do this forever then Johnny?”

It was a form of torture Simon was sure, them having lunch together once a week every week and making small talk. He missed his best friend. He missed being able to say something outrageous and knowing Johnny would call him a sick bastard and then immediately try to outdo him.

“Eat lunch?” Johnny replied a little miserably, shuffling pasta about his plate.

“Johnny…”

“What dae ye want me tae say LT?”

“Not your LT anymore, retired remember? And Price told me about your promotion.”

Captain John MacTavish did have a nice ring to it, and Soap had more than earned the stripes. In another world he’d have grinned at Ghost, smug as anything and making some comment about being able to order him around now. But instead he frowned and Simon hated it. 

“Talk to me for Christ sake!”

“I cannae! Ye want me tae tell ye how much I miss your wife? How it kills me that she’ll never forgive me and that she’s right about it?”

“Johnny…”

“Or were ye hoping tae hear that I dinnae even regret Las Almas? It’s ruined everything, but I’ve loved you since I broke my fingers on that stupid bloody mask and I didnae even realise until we nearly fucking died! Ignored it even when I did, had 9 years tae think about how either way I was breaking my own heart because it decided it loved two different people!”

Fuck. He was crying. Johnny was crying. And Simon was caught between wanting to kiss him or kill him. He had never expected to be loved back was the thing. He did something unbearably selfish on the understanding it was all one sided, that the fuck was just the adrenaline from thinking they were going to die and they’d forget it ever happened. And then everything had went to shit and he had fallen in love with Johnny’s widow. He’d already lost one person he loved because he was too scared to admit it, he just couldn’t do it again,  selfish asshole that he was. 

“You should regret it. You… we hurt her. Hurt her so bad that we might lose her.”

“Aye. I deserve tae lose her though, never deserved tae have her in the first place anyway. I just caught you in the crossfire of my sins.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Simon said with full derision.

This has gone on long enough. So what? Everyone was just supposed to be miserable forever? They were supposed to just lay down and take it? Johnny looked at him, hurt and confused. 

“I watched you fight every break up. You fought tooth and fucking nail to make it work. When you fucked up you made it up to her. When she fucked up you forgave her. And what? Now that Johnny is dead? Either you still love her and are willing to fight to get her back, or any part of the man I loved died in Russia.”

“You’ve lost yer fucking mind Si, she’s your wife!”

Simon stood, determined.

“And our wife needs to remember who she belongs to and who belongs to her.”

As he started marching off Johnny near choked and scrambled to follow.

“Ye cannae be serious! Leave her be Si! Ye cannae just barge in and-and-”

“And tell her she’ll try forgive us because we’ll spend the rest of our lives making it up to her? That we can start right now by showing her how well you can follow orders and how well I can give them for her benefit? I bloody well can and I’m bloody well going to. Either you’re with me or you can stay and mope.”

“...aye sir.”

–

Once upon a time Joey being at a sleepover was exciting, it meant some much needed alone time with your husband. Now though? The house felt cold, empty. You considered asking Gaz and Price’s partner if they’d come round to hang out, but it felt so messy when they were just as much Simon’s friend as they were yours. It would somehow make you miss him more. 

Everytime he was at the house briefly and you made polite conversation you wanted to cry. You had a few times, only after he was gone of course. That big fucking lummox. You wanted to strangle him, but then again that wasn’t exactly new. And you wanted rhubarb and sugar. Oh you could murder some rhubarb dipped in sugar like your parents used to give you as a kid. 

The door went just as you finished pouring a large glass of wine. Simon stood looking like he sometimes did when you were about to get absolutely ruined in bed and you swore your heart nearly stopped. Johnny was by his side, pupils blown with a blush crawling up his neck as if he somehow knew exactly what images just popped into your mind. Oh. Oh you suddenly wanted them so badly it hurt. 

And damn them for knowing you so well, for being able to fucking tell. Simon’s lips were on yours as he walked into the house, you being led backwards. You were clawing at his shirt as he squeezed your ass until you bumped into the kitchen island and realised how insane this was, pulling away to try find Johnny. He had followed, was swallowing thickly as Simon started to kiss and nip a path down your neck. This was insane. This was certifiably mental. You could not… have a threesome? Have a threesome with your husband and your husband who had fucked each other ten years ago on a mission before one faked his damn death. 

“W-what are you doing? We can’t…” you mumbled, trying to get your head on straight since currently your brain seemed to reside between your legs.

“Tell me what you need princess. Want me on my knees begging against your pussy? Want Johnny to fly you to Hawaii and keep you in the lap of luxury for a month? Want us to be here every single day in the garden announcing to the neighbours that we deserve a fucking whipping for how badly we fucked everything up with the gorgeous mother of our child?”

Christ almighty. So much for Simon being the unemotional and ineloquent one. You couldn’t handle this. You couldn’t handle how much you wanted to just give in. He made it sound so easy, like you could have them both, like they would give you whatever you wanted just to stay by your side despite what they’d done. He was going to his knees in front of you.

“Rhubarb!”

The room froze for a moment as Simon hit the ground with his knees and just stared at you.

“...is that, uh, a safeword?” Johnny asked, seemingly surprised out of the slack jawed, dazed state he seemed to have been in. 

“No. I mean I… rhubarb. You asked what I needed. Rhubarb and sugar, but we have sugar in the cupboard so… just the rhubarb.”

“...ok, rhubarb. We can do rhubarb” Simon said after a moment, taking it in his stride as he snuck a peck to your stomach where his head currently was and then stood. 

If they just left and went to the shops maybe you could… you didn’t know. Maybe you could hurriedly touch yourself to get rid of the ache between your legs and then neck your wine to get rid of the one in your chest. Simon turned and nodded to Johnny and took a few steps, so you picked up the glass of wine to calm yourself down only for Johnny to pluck it out of your hands.

“Unless you’ve suddenly developed a taste for red wine I’d appreciate that back” you snapped at him.

“And since you’ve suddenly developed a taste for rhubarb I’m naw giving it tae ye.”

“MacTavish” Simon scolded, sure Johnny was about to ruin what he was hoping was some reconciliation here.

“That’s not…” you started before you went pale. 

“How ye been feeling recently hen?”

Oh no. Not now. You just assumed you felt sick because of the stress. But then the take away food had seemed so off despite you usually loving it. You kept having to throw up. You were lethargic. And now you needed rhubarb and sugar, something you had only craved twice in your adult life, the most recent being over a decade ago. The last time you were pregnant. 

“What’s going on?” Simon asked, not liking at all how your face just fell as he strode back to you. “What did you do Johnny? It’s ok sweetheart, I’m sorry we just showed up, seemed like a good idea at the time. Just missed you so much.”

The universe had a sick sense of humour. Over a year of trying for a baby with this man. 18 fucking months. And you get pregnant right before your other husband comes back from the dead, the one it turns out your current husband has slept with behind your back? This could not be happening, but all the signs were there. When had you last had a period? You hadn’t even noticed that you were late with everything going on. 

You tried to do the maths in your head. It had been a few months since Johnny had come back, so you were at the very least that far along. 8 weeks. You had miscarried at 10. Maybe you were further along, maybe you were past the worst of the danger. God you prayed you were past the worst of the danger. 

“Si, gie her some room would ye? We’re right here, if ye want us tae be. It’s up to you, you dinnae have tae…” Johnny said, struggling to get out the words.

There was no thought in your mind that you would get rid of this baby, but the fact that he was putting that option out there when he himself had always been so desperate for a big family was something you appreciated more than you could say. Goddamnit, he still loved you. 9 years away and he still bloody loved you. Would still do whatever it took for you to be happy. Even if in that case this meant not having another baby.

How strange that you thought of this baby as his. How strange that you just as strongly thought of it as Simon’s. If the past few months had shown you anything it was that you could look after a child between the three of you, so it wasn’t like they had to be with you to do it. Even if you’d like them to be. Despite it all, you’d really fucking like them to be.

“Princess?”

You took a deep breath and smiled softly at Simon who was looking increasingly alarmed. You caressed his face and it felt like relief to touch him. 

“Maybe we can go a trip to the doctor on the way for the rhubarb Casper. Think we might be pregnant.”

–

A very healthy baby girl with an incredibly healthy set of lungs. You sang to her, love like A Red, Red Rose for your little Rose. You bawled your eyes out when Joey refused to turn down his hearing aids even when she was screaming at the top of her lungs because that was his baby sister and he would never not want to hear her. It was a good thing you could all sign with the way she drowned you all out, even Johnny as clumsy as his hands were with it had dedicated himself to learning since he had got home. 

You were fairly certain your little Rose was making Price broody with Gaz and their partner finding their grumpy old man losing his mind over a chubby baby adorable. Although there was a good chance Price wasn’t making any babies with how you had planted your foot in his groin when he finally came out of hiding. 

You were still figuring things out, but right now? Right now you were happy. You had two perfect children by two imperfect husbands. It was up in the air what your family was going to look like in the future. Did you want to forgive them? Even if you did, would you be friends and co-parents or something more?

That you hadn’t quite decided yet. But you were determined that whatever the future held for you, it was going to be a future full of love and laughter.

[losersimonriley]

every way that matters

(Ghost/Soap, marriage proposals, first kiss, in that order actually)

“MacRiley.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Ravish!”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

The longer he thinks on it (the longer Johnny goes on listing horrid mash-ups of their surnames,) the more convinced he becomes that they should just keep their own as is. It would make the streamlining process a hell of a lot easier (as easy as it can be for a dead man with a high-clearance-only military file to get legally married. Ghost’s paperwork will be a nightmare no matter if his name is changed or not.) Plus it would mean no unnecessary confusement in the field.

Johnny is quick to veto that idea.

“Where’s the romance in that, ye numpty? C’mon. What sounds better, John Riley or Simon MacTavish?”

Ghost actually full body snorts at that one. “They both sound dead weird.”

“Och, ye wound me. There’s no other choice then. Plain ol’ Riley-MacTavish it is. Simon Rhys Riley-MacTavish,” Johnny says his name with such softness that it hurts.

And that one…that one might work. Bit of a mouthful but nobody besides an officiant is ever going to be saying his full name anyway. And Johnny, apparently.

An officiant. With the highest of clearances. At their wedding. Their make-believe wedding.

This is all, of course, a joke. They’re meant to be having a laugh on watch duty while Garrick and Price sleep their dedicated four hours. Simon had maybe forgotten himself and delved a little too deep into the idea. Maybe he forgot this wasn’t a real conversation. Easy to do with electric blue eyes lit by a full moon and a perfect mouth spouting random, sleep deprived nuggets like “What if we got married?”

“Sure. That’s the one,” he says, regretting every single one of his life choices that led him to this moment. They need to stop. Now.

“That’s the one,” Johnny repeats.

Despite it all, his own jaws keep fucking flapping. Soap tends to have that effect on him. Curious, that.

“When I was a little brat,” he’s already second-guessing the confession about to escape his lips, “I used to think I’d make the perfect husband one day. Cause my old man showed me everything not to be.”

He tries to ignore the sharp inhale that Johnny attempts to mask with a clearing of his throat.

“You would be. Anyone would be lucky to have ye, Simon. I’d certainly be beside myself,” he says that last part in a mutter, looking off into the dark of the forest.

“Right,” he whispers, sarcasm dripping from the word. He hopes they leave it at that. He thinks they have left it at that, peaceful silence promising until Soap picks it up again within minutes.

“If it weren’t for the military, the task force, would ye marry me?”

“Maybe if you asked nicely.”

“Simon. I’m serious.”

He glances up and, yes, that is Soap’s serious face. He’s staring at him so intently it might burn a hole straight through the hard shell mask and into his skull. Fuck. Fucking hell. What is this? The fuck is going on here?

“I—Johnny, we aren’t…we aren’t together,” he can’t help but ease into it as if he’s breaking the truth to Soap. And yet he phrases it as a question instead of the statement it’s meant to be.

“Ye didnae answer the question proper.”

“You didn’t ask proper,” he quips, agitation rising in his voice. Why can’t Soap just stop this? Can he not see how much it’s hurting him? He’s usually so good about reading him.

Johnny grins evilly and plucks a blade of grass from the ground, quickly tying it off. “Need ye to stand up for a sec.”

“What,” he deadpans.

“Up.”

He stands, ever the obedient dog for John fucking MacTavish.

And John fucking MacTavish stays sat on the ground, switching his position to a kneel right in front of him.

He’s going to throw up.

This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening. He’s in a dream and he’ll wake up screaming and sweating and shaking any second.

“It’s not funny anymore, Soap,” he croaks.

It hurts.

“I’m not laughin’,'' he holds the blade of grass up, haphazardly knotted into a tiny circle. “Simon Rhys Riley, would ye do me the absolute fucking honor of being my husband in all ways except legal? Sir.”

It’s so stupid. It’s pretend—he knows that, but he’s sinking to his knees anyway. “This would make me your fiancé. Not husband.”

“That a yes then?”

Johnny is serious and his smile is blinding. Not for the first time, he’s bloody thankful for having his mask on around this ridiculous man. He’s sure his entire face could rival a tomato.

Maybe it’s not a real proposal but, Simon realizes, it’s real to them. Maybe not so far as a promise, but a wish. A what if.

“We’ll wait a bit, let it marinate. Maybe this’ll turn to gold, aye?” Johnny makes to slip the…ring…onto his finger but hesitates, motioning to the glove covering Simon’s hand. “Can I?”

He nods once and the skelly glove is far too gently pulled off and replaced with another far too gentle glide of grass up his ring finger. It’s the perfect fit. It doesn’t rip, doesn’t fall off when Johnny moves his hand back into his glove. It’s as if that stupid blade of grass was meant for him.

What a stupid thought. A stupid thought for a stupid, lovesick ghost.

They blink at each other, both seeming to be in a daze of their own when something possesses Simon—something unhinged and desperate and absolutely necessary in this moment.

He yanks the mask completely off before surging forward and kissing hard enough to hurt both of their noses and quick enough to leave them both aching for more. Johnny whines pitifully and follows his lips when he pulls back.

“Think we’ve done this all backwards, LT,” Johnny breathes into his mouth, hands coming up to pet his face.

This is everything. Everything. Backwards, frontwards, sideways, he doesn’t give a fuck because Johnny is everything.

“You started it, Sergeant.”

***

Six months and six thousand kisses later, Johnny presents him with a gunmetal black ring. Fucker had it planned from the start.

Engraved on the outside:

Riley-MacTavish

And the inside:

In every way that matters.

[ghosts-bandwagon]

I’ve recently picked up the guitar again and OWIE my fingies!!! I’ve lost my callouses and now I gotta build them up again and wowie owie they hurt… so here’s the 141 + König with an s/o that plays an instrument!

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

He’s mesmerized, he’s watching your fingers as they move up and down the keyboard, hypnotized by how graceful they are

(Bonus points if you’re on the task force with him, he’s in awe that something so beautiful is made by those hands that have killed before)

He loves hearing you play, even if it’s just practice, those warm up scales are like music to his hears, he’s instantly flooded with warmth as soon as he hears them, he knows beautiful music will soon follow

Whether you were classically trained, picked it up as a hobby, or you’ve made a career out of it, it’s all the same to him, you are amazing and the music you play sounds gorgeous coming from your hands

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

He loves hearing you play, as soon as you grab your guitar he knows he’s in for a treat

He drops what he’s doing and goes wherever you’re sitting just to be in the same room

Even if you’re just strumming to warm up, it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard, he’s holding his breath when you start playing and if you sing??? Man’s gonna be window shopping for an engagement ring

It’s so magical hearing you play, he’s definitely gonna request a song or two, always cracks up when you say “anyway here’s wonderwall” and then you actually play it??? Incredible

John Price:

He’s so in love with you, it’s not even funny. He loves hearing the music carrying through the house, it’s so fucking beautiful to him

The living room is furnished around the piano, his favorite chair is positioned so that he’s able to watch you play

Sometimes he likes to sit on the bench with you and lean on you as you play, his eyes never leaving the way your fingers gracefully glide over the ivory keys

Whether you’re playing your favorite Chopin song, a song from your favorite video game or movie, or a pop song you heard on the radio, it all sounds so gorgeous to him, bonus points if it’s a song he knows, he’ll be humming along

Might even nod off on the sofa while he’s listening to you practice

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

Oh god he’s obsessed

Every time he hears a song he likes he sends it to you like, “[link] 👀🎶?” He has every ounce of confidence in your musical skills, whether you’re a novice or a professional

If you play more than one instrument? Rip. He wants the guitar version and the piano version of the same song smh so demanding

And when you’re able to pull it off? He’s hype man number one, he’s applauding like a mad man, like his life depends on cheering you on

Low key has recorded one of your practice sessions, he loves letting it play when he’s overseas and in his room, he feels so much closer to you, it’s like you’re right there with him and he feels so at peace

König:

He’s rooted in his seat as soon as he sees you grab your acoustic guitar, he immediately gets comfortable

Even if you’re just practicing and running through the same verse over and over again, he loves watching and hearing you

He watches your fingers as they pluck the strings and glide along the fretboard, he’s watching the way your tongue pokes out when you’re really focused, he chuckles quietly when you hit a sour note and groan

He’s every bit as excited as you are when you call him over to hear the finished song, he’s watching you with stars in his eyes as all the hours you spent practicing comes together

As soon as you’ve finished playing the new song, he’s got your face in his hands, peppering kisses all over you, he’s so proud of you!!!

(funny story that no one asked for bc I love over sharing: playing the piano is what made my husband want to date me when we first met 🤭)

[mangoguy]

Displacement (2/2)

John "Soap" MacTavish('09) x Reader x John "Soap" MacTavish('22)

Warnings: Mentions of character death (Ghost and Roach), no y/n used, no pronouns other than they/them used a few of times.

You can't help but find it difficult to get used to your new surroundings.

_

It's finally here!!! I meant for this to be out a week after the first part, but school got busy lmao

Read the first part here

There are a few things you have noticed after being thrown in here.

One, the year is 2023.

Two, You are married to John (or Johnny as he likes being called) in this timeline.

And three, you don’t work in the military, you are no longer with Task Force 141.

That third one hit particularly hard. Your task force was a huge part of your life along with John.

You faked memory loss, thinking it was a smart move for now. You doubted they would even believe you if you started spouting that you were not from here. Even to you, that sounded crazy.

‘Because it is…’ you thought bitterly.

This universe wasn't in World War III, you weren't complaining though, that was the mission after all. You still had a hard time adjusting, especially with him around, Johnny. The man who wears your husband's face. Well, you guessed you're even… since technically you were wearing his wife's face? That's how you saw it anyway.

He was worried about you, often asking if you were okay. You could never really answer him, just stare and nod. You felt so foreign here, out of place, and you missed John so much it made you ill. You wondered what happened to him? Was he okay? Something told you he wasn’t. With where your mind was going this was going to be a long hospital stay…

It's been two months since you've woken up. Your mind convinced you it was some weird coma dream.

‘People have those, don't they?’ You thought, staring out the living room window. You felt silly mourning the loss of some older version of yourself and Johnny. It was morbid of your brain to think of how Ghost would die, or mourn the loss of two others you ‘barely knew.’ You found it funny how Price looked in your dream, older, a little unhinged. Gaz was what scared you the most in terms of dream Gaz, you didn't want to think about it.

You met them briefly, Task Force 141, Johnny's teammates, and friends. They all seemed very concerned about you, maybe even a little guilty like they caused the accident. You assured them you were fine and mentioned that the doctors said you were healing quite nicely.

“Aye, but they… have memory loss, can't remember a damn thing… the doctor said it looks severe,” Johnny spoke in a hushed whisper when you went off to fetch something.

“They can't remember anything?” Kyle spoke.

“Yeah, and I'm talkin’ like their whole life, it's like they're a new person… Can't even remember our weddin’ day, our first meetin’, or… anythin’” Johnny could feel his heartbreak just speaking it out loud. A painful reminder of what happened, he thought maybe someone was punishing him. Probably was, for the things he's done. He gave a deep sigh, as Kyle gave him a reassuring pat on the back. Price and Simon both frowned, giving the Scot a sympathetic look, that's when you decided to enter the room again.

“Bonnie yer… are ye okay? Ye've been starin’ out the window for a while…” you heard Johnny speak softly. You turned to look at him, nodding your head softly.

“Yeah sorry, just… I guess I'm reminiscing on some weird dream I had while in that coma,” you admitted.

“Hm? Dream ye say? Do ye want tae talk about it?” John sat near you on the couch and pulled you into his arms. It was comforting being in his embrace.

“Hm, not much to say other than… I guess I just dreamt of a whole other life for us? You were there, though you were a bit older… definitely more handsome in my dream,” you gave him a cheeky grin.

“Looks like I've got some competition,” he paused to chuckle softly. “But older you say? Were ye dreaming of tae future or somethin’?” Johnny asked.

“Hm, you could say that… though there are differences in dream John and you in real life.”

“Aye… and what's that?”

“Well for one he was a bit taller than you,” you snickered.

“Aye!”

“And well he didn't have an arm tattoo, like you do he had one on his neck, a revolver,” you paused to think, your mind was getting a little muddy on details.

“Oh! And your scars are different, that's all I seem to remember at the moment...” you finished. Johnny was silent for a moment, absorbing this new information. It was nice hearing you talk again, even if it was about this mysterious other version of himself.

“Damn, sounds like one handsome bastard…”

“Johnny…”

“What I'm bein’ serious,” he muses.

Something weird was going on, you couldn't place your finger on it. It all started with a pair of jeans. What scared you was that you vaguely recalled wearing them somewhere. You placed them down on the floor and stared at them.

‘Of course, I wore them somewhere they're pants…’ You thought, thinking it was silly you were worried about jeans. You shook your head, grabbing them off the floor but that's when something slipped out from the pocket. One fell with a hard thunk and the other fluttered to the ground. You pick them both up. One was a simple wedding band on it was an engraving, two sets of dates

xx-xx-‘07

xx-xx-‘09

The other item made your heart drop in your stomach. Time seemed to stop as familiar sets of eyes were on you. John Price, Ghost, John “Soap” MacTavish, you. In the corner of the photo were the words ‘OP Kingfish.’

This was it.

The evidence that your ‘coma dream’ wasn't a dream after all. How could you think it was a dream? How dare this world make you think your John was a dream, your world. You assumed it was the universe trying to make you ‘fit in,’ but that begs the question, how did your stuff get here? You shoved the ring and photo in your pocket as you heard Johnny walking over to where you were.

“Hey Bonnie, are you almost done gettin’ ready? Simon texted saying he was at the bar already,” Johnny watched you as you put the jeans back in the closet.

“Yeah I'm ready, can't keep the man waiting,” you smiled though it didn't reach your eyes.

While watching Ghost and Johnny converse you felt the ring and photo through your pocket for the tenth time. You worried they would disappear and yet they never did. You stood up from your seat, getting the attention of the two men at the table.

“Just heading to the bathroom,” you spoke, walking towards the small hallway that housed the restrooms. You entered, taking a quick breather, your emotions were everywhere tonight. It was starting to annoy you, if you were being honest all you wanted was to just relax and enjoy the evening…

Even it felt fake.

Doing your business and leaving the bathroom, you noticed Johnny had a conflicting look. But when you approached he smiled at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you sat down.

“Everything okay?” You asked and he nodded, though you noticed it was stiff.

You ended up drinking, not a lot but enough to get a bit tipsy. You barely remember the car ride home, though here you are, in bed and snuggled into the blankets. You were reaching out towards Johnny’s spot but found he was not on his side of the bed. It’s cold, meaning he was gone for a while. You slowly sat up, groaning from a slight headache. You called out for him but didn’t hear an answer. You got out of bed and walked towards the living room, spotting him sitting on the couch with the table lamp on. He was staring at something, upon closer look it was the photo, your photo with your team. Your John.

You blinked once, then twice.

When did he get that?

Shit.

“What are you doing with that?” You asked, slightly on the defence.

“What am I doin’ with it? What are ye doing with this? What am I even lookin’ at?” He asked, looking over at you his expression inconceivable.

“It's… complicated Johnny, you probably wouldn't understand.”

He went quiet after that, rubbing his face in frustration, he then stared at the photo again. You needed to figure out where to go from here. You bit the inside of your cheek in thought.

“So, are ye from the future or somethin? Because that's what it looks like… we all look older in this photo… Plus why the hell are you in this photo anyway?” Johnny spoke up finally after a long silence.

“No… it's complicated…”

“Then enlighten me!” You could hear him getting frustrated.

“Fine… I'm… not from here, I don't know how to explain it! One moment I was someplace else then the next thing I know I'm here, in Scotland… In a hospital with someone who looks like my husband but isn't!” you didn't mean to sound so harsh, but all your feelings were bursting out.

“But I am yer husband, didn't you tell me ye were dreamin’ while in that coma?” Johnny tried reasoning.

“I lied, at first I thought maybe it was all a dream but how do you explain the photo and this? I know for a fact I wasn't dreaming I had a completely different life,” You pulled out the ring, showing him the engraved dates.

He stared at the ring, at the dates that were engraved then at the photo. He seemed a bit distant, thinking, processing.

“Is that why whenever I look at ye… It feels like I've lost someone… lost my Bonnie,” Johnny lamented. You were caught off guard by that. But you couldn't deny that you also felt a huge loss whenever you thought of John. The two of you stayed silent, grieving but didn't want to think about why. You refused to think your John didn't survive that explosion.

“I… guess you could say I'm from an alternate universe, god… that's even more confusing but makes the most sense” you decided to change the subject. Johnny finally looked up at you, his eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Aye… that sounds crazy… maybe-” he didn't finish his sentence but you knew he was probably still trying to find a reasonable answer. You couldn't blame him and this is exactly the reason you didn't bring it up. You decided to take a different approach.

“That photo was taken on a joint mission with Task Force 141 and Delta force, we were going after this guy named Vladimir Makarov, Intel claimed he was in this facility in Ukraine but he wasn't and it ended up being a trap… That's when John or my Soap, I guess I should say, got injured and Price was captured,” you explained. You were starting to sweat a bit, speaking that mission out loud sounded insane. It sure did catch Johnny's attention though. A dark look crossed his face at the mention of Vladimir Makarov but it quickly faded.

“Huh…” was all Johnny managed to get out, it was a hell of a story. You could tell he needed more convincing.

“Well, one person in that photograph isn't alive… Ghost, along with another member Roach were shot by a man named Shepherd…” Your eyebrows furrowed and you frowned deeply.

“Betrayed by him and his shadow company…” you seethed. That seemed to make Johnny perk up. From the looks of it, that story of yours seemed to hit a little too close to home. He gave you a thoughtful look albeit a concerned look.

“Well, shite… that just all but confirms your theory… But the question remains why are ye here? And how come yer body in yer time stayed there?”

“I don't know… it's not like I have the answers. I was literally on a mission to assassinate Makarov but then an explosion went off behind us and I ended up in that hospital.” You explained.

“Ye know… that sounds similar to what happened to my spouse, well they didn't work in the military but there was an accident that involved both me and them, they ended up taking most of the damage which is why they put you in a coma… but you already knew that,” he mumbled that last part.

“I wonder if that's related… but that still doesn't explain why I'm here…” You crossed your arms, sitting opposite from him on the couch. You stared at your reflection on the TV for a moment, observing your new skin, you often didn't look at yourself for too long. You found it troublesome and dare you say uncanny.

This whole situation was confusing, but you found some comfort now that Johnny knew and seemed to believe you. You did grow fond of him over the couple of months you've been here. It was slow, sure, unfairly comparing him to your John but you quickly came to realize that although they might share the same name and hair- they were different. That also made you realize something else though, something unpleasant.

"Johnny… I understand if you want me to leave, I am technically wearing your spouse's face..." you suddenly spoke. Johnny turned to look at you with a bewildered look on his face, silently asking if you were for real.

“That's a way to put it…” he mumbled with a long pause before speaking again, "...But I don't want you to leave."

"...Why?" It was your turn to be bewildered now.

"Well, is it bad I still want to be with ye? I know you aren't the version of my Bonnie I married but... you're still you whether you're fighting in the big fight or here making the house a home... I loved you in both timelines,” he suddenly proclaimed, bringing a hand over to caress your cheek. There was hope that maybe this could work.

That couldn't be a bad idea.

The universe brought the two of you together for a reason.

Words: 2,337

[simonzriley]

COD Sexuality HCs for Gay Month

(Modern Warfare Reboot only for this one, Black Ops and Ghosts coming soon)

(if you disagree with any of these you're homophobic)

(not a single one of them is capable of being straight)

• Simon Ghost Riley: First of all this man is aro-ace spec, demisexual/demiromantic perhaps (what? no. im not projecting). Man kisser. He likes boys.

• John Soap MacTavish: That's a bisexual if I've ever seen one. Slight preference towards men, but for the most part, if he thinks you're attractive he'll hit on you. Man or woman, doesn't matter. I don't think I need to say much here. He's just a bisexual man, case closed.

• Kyle Gaz Garrick: Also bisexual, but I'm gonna say he's a bit of a ladies man. I just get that vibe from him. He is dancing with all the girls in the club, and they are eating it up.

• John Price: There's one of two options here. Gay, and Straight. I'm sorry, I can not see an in between. I don't know why. I think it's just one or the other here. He's either the gayest man you've ever seen (bear btw), with a husband at home, or he's very respectfully a straight man with a wife at home.

• Alex Keller: Golden retriever bisexual. Case closed. No preference. Might actually be pansexual but doesn't care enough to look into it. He likes whoever, and when he likes them, he's the fucking sweetest man ever about it. He's incredibly romantic. I have strong feelings about this one. Pry this headcanon straight out of my cold dead hands I dare you.

• Farah Karim: I also get demisexual/demiromantic vibes from her. I don't think she's even worried about finding a partner, tbh. She is very devoted to the ULF, and outside of that doesn't make it a priority to find a partner. As for gender preference, I don't think she has one. Very much so 'I'll end up with whoever I end up with and I'm gonna love them' vibes.

• Alejandro Vargas: Raging bisexual. So many bisexuals but you know I'm right. Look at him, and then look at Rudy, and tell me they're not married. As for why he's bisexual and not gay? Idk? Vibes. You tell me.

• Rodolfo Rudy Parra: Gay your honor!! Gay!! Gay, and married to Alejandro. That's it. He crushed on Alejandro for most of his young adulthood. He's still crushing on Alejandro.

• Valeria Garza: Lesbian! She doesn't care for men. Very 'fuck the patriarchy' as well imo. Very proud about who she is, though I don't think she advertises it.

• Phillip Graves: Homosexual. Gay man. Boy kisser. Extremely closeted though, even well into adulthood. Being brought up in the south, I think he was definitely raised Christian. He was also raised in a very conservative small town. Like, the closest Walmart is an hour away typa small town. So he's got a lot of shit to work through internally. I think he even has an ex-wife that he was never truly in love with. You couldn't pry this one out of my cold, dead, gay, country boy hands if you tried. I will never stop pushing the gay graves agenda.

- Anyway that's all for now, if you disagree that's fine, I don't care these are just my thoughts. I don't know shit about shit! So take these with a grain of salt. As always. -

[southernbluebellereader]

I'm in class but I'd rather not be but I have to be because I am a ~grad student~

anyways, but like what about COD x you in a zoom meeting

like you're in a zoom meeting or something for [insert whatever reason], and they just bust in the room

Captain John Price

Leave the man alone, he forgot

Opened the door, saw you in the meeting, cursed - loudly - then left

One of the women on your zoom said "damn" a little too loud and your face turned so red

John waved, said hi with the biggest smile on his face

This is his invitation to come in, give you a kiss on your cheek, embarrassing you even more, and he's like "Hi, I'm John, Y/N's boyfriend/husband."

Keeps walking back and forth if the door is open, he is the curious about your meeting

You finally tell him to just come and sit so he can listen to your meeting

If you have to talk, he just looks at you the whole time, he don't understand nothing of what you're talking about, but he agrees and if someone says something in opposition, he'll make a face lol

you have to squeeze his leg to get him to stop

Lt. Simon "Ghost" Riley

Didn't forget forget, he forgot what day it was

But the door was open, he walked in, taking up the whole damn door frame, curses under his breath, but he needs to ask you something so he just stands in the doorway hoping his mere presence gets your attention

You're talking and someone in your meeting unmutes themselves and frantically tells you that there's a man behind you

You sigh and turn around, "Hi, Simon, is everything ok?"

"We need more dish detergent."

"There's a bottle under the sink."

He nods and lets you get back to your meeting, stays a minute longer for shits and giggles before going back

Sgt. Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Knows you were in a meeting, but the door was open

Cannot just walk by the open door without stopping and waving

You notice the others in your meeting giggling and laughing, then you see Johnny making a damn fool of himself

"Johnny!" You whispered loudly

Johnny was in his own little world

You yelling at him scared him lol

He apologized, then left you alone

You hurt his feelings and now you have to comfort him after lol

Sgt. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Did remember

But he's always interested in what you're doing and sat beside you

He was mostly out of the frame, except his giant muscly arm was in the frame

Everyone started showing their pets in the meeting, and and Kyle had to look

He loves a cute pet

takes up the whole frame to look at everyone's pets with a big goofy smile

Kate Laswell

Doesn't want to disturb you

But keeps bringing you food and drinks

Keeps replenishing your drink and beings you snacks

can't help herself to kissing the top of your head

I know damn well Kate is very affectionate you cannot change my fucking mind

You want to be upset but you love her so much

Unless it's a really important meeting, then she'll leave you alone.

Alejandro Vargas

He did forget

Keeps yelling for you because he needs something

Is looking for something

Comes into your office and says "Dios mío, lo siento mucho, cariño, pero..." and goes on a whole thing as to what he needs ("omg, I'm very sorry, darling, but...")

"Alejandro, i'm in a meeting."

"Ok but I-"

"Alejandro."

"ok"

Not even 10 minutes later he busts back in, "Carińo, dondé es-" ("Darling, where is-")

"Alejandro!"

Actually feels bad now lol once you're done you forgive him and ask him to at least knock before busting in lol

Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

Knocks on the door, opens it like 2 inches, and whispers loudly, "Lo siento, cariño, pero ¿dónde está el...?" (I'm sorry, darling, but where is the...?"

Once you answer him. He comes back 10 minutes later and asks where something else is.

Keeps apologizing

Once you're done with your meeting you have to find him, hold his face, and tell him it's ok

You still love him

You thank him for at least knocking

You tell him that your coworkers thought he was cute and he is happy now

confidence boost

[imbeingchokeholded]

Blissful Peace

Hiya! I'm new to the COD side of tumblr! I have another tumblr named @gimmethosedaddymilkers which is dediacted to RDR2, mainly Arthur, and this tumblr will be more dedicated to COD/Soap specifically because I love him and I feel like there's actually not much for him in terms of fics (at least romantically)

I'm super excited to do it! *mainly for me because I'm mentally unwell and he's got me in a chokehold* but if there's other Soap lovers out there I hope you enjoy this!! (Meaning my blog and not just his piece lmao)

Also this one is probs gonna be a little shorter cause im going off the top of my head on my phone and right before bed so like LMAO

Anyway, with all that being said!

Let's do this!!!

Fluff piece for a first piece until I get some fic requests!

Warnings!: fluff, maybe a mention of sexual endevors, soap being soap, and potenental bad Scottish accent writing because i have no idea how to do it so bare with me unti I figure it out, and Fem! Reader!

John "Soap" Mactavish, a six foot two, muscled, Scottish, military man, was not exactly someone who at first glance looked friendly, sweet, kind, or funny for that matter, in fact he appeared quite threatening, albeit still handsome, Perhaps not as threatening as his 141 partner Simon "Ghost" Riley, but threatening nonetheless.

So you were absolutely positive that if you ever tried to tell someone about the absolutely wonderful circumstances you'd woken up to with him, you'd only recieve a cacophonie of laughter.

The skin of his bare chest was warm against the palm of your hand, and your cheek too, was nearly sizzling from where you had it pressed against one of his pectorals.

He slept soundly, that cute little devilish smile on his face, even in slumber. His hair, usually styled and spiked into his signature mohawk, is now ungelled, and natural, laying against the pillow beneath his head.

He breathes, gentle and steady, healthy, happy even.

It's absolutely heavenly, listening to it, steady, his heartbeat too.

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes again. You'd woken up only ten minutes ago, in your eyes there'd be nothing wrong with going right back to sleep in your husband's arms.

That is until he starts muttering in his sleep and you're compelled to listen.

Most of it is in Scottish, grumbles and groans in low tones that you were sure you probably wouldn't have understood even if they were in English.

One you do recogonize, because he'd told it several times before.

"It's pishin' a doon..."

It's a grumble, hardly very loud at all, but you smile and look out the window.

The sun is shining quite brightly, sending rays of light into your room.

Quietly you laugh and kiss his chest where you can, mumbling under your breath, more for your benefit than his.

"Johnny, I hate to break it to you, but there's not a drop of rain in the sky." You smile against his skin, and chuckle to yourself as he grumbles again and begins to stir, he grips your wait tighter and pulls you to the side as he rolls over.

"Yer...a wee bonnie lass..." he mutters, and then it stops, only to be replaced with soft snores.

You feel your face heat, his voice is low, thick with sleep, and that accent of his never fails to make you happy. Not only that but the short little sentence makes you remenise, remembering the first time he came up to you and requested a date.

You chuckle to yourself and kiss his jaw, which earns a small hum in response.

It's only a few more minutes before he wakes up, his eyes half lidded as he looks at you, and a loopy sort of lopsided grin plastered on his face.

"Mhm...if I dinnae know any better I'd say you had a crush on me miss Y/N, starin' at me like tha'."

"Oh, I'm afraid I'm taken." You smile at him, unable to stop yourself. "It's actualy Mrs. MacTavish to you."

"Taken? And in my bed? Oh, you are an awful cheater then!"

You roll your eyes at him and move to kiss him, a familiar fuzzy warmth preading through your body as his mouth meets yours.

He isn't home all the time. He's gone for months at a time, away on dangerous government missions that he could die on. So you take every kiss, every blissful moment, every physical touch, compliment, everything you can get, as though it's your last.

Having him home, like he is now, makes you happy to no end, but you know as soon as he has to leave again you'll go through the same steps of panic you always do.

But you leave that for a different version of you.

A later version.

For now, you stare into his eyes and listen to his horrible jokes, and kiss him whenever the need creeps up.

For now, things are peaceful.

[asterdisaster06]

dial drunk

simon "ghost" riley x john "soap" mactavish

Pt 1.

summary > “I’m tired of you disappearing for weeks and then waltzing back into my life like it’s nothing.”

“Better than me disappearing for good.”

“Is it?”

. . .

word count > 3.5k

warnings > angst, simon riley is a dick, unhealthy relationship, unhealthy coping mechanisms, soap POV, minimal simon riley involvement

a/n > you know the angst is good whenever you meant to wrap it up in two chapters and it’s turned into an entire fic

ao3

Ghost had always been a flighty person, and Soap couldn’t blame him. It’s a simple symptom of the ailment of a bad childhood. It had slowly gotten worse, progressively causing more and more heartbreak every time Soap had received a call through the grapevine from Price. Or maybe it was less, but Soap had honestly lost track of both the times and his emotions. On an occasional note it Gaz or Alejandro were the one to send a bolt of anxiety through Soap’s system. The one time it was Laswell had his heart drop to his stomach and caused him to curl up into a ball, bedridden until his lover - if he could even call him that at this point - returned home. Until he did, the dial tone was all Soap had, letting the pain metastasis to his very soul. 

It made Soap feel like a young soul in the 1940s waiting for their poor husband to return from saving the world. Except, Soap had been through the exact same battlefields on the exact same missions. And sure, one could argue that his childhood had raised him in this way to turn into someone that Soap no longer could say he knew, but it only took so many ‘I’ll do better’ claims to tear that small hope down. The small hope that maybe, just maybe, this time Simon would find that help in his life. He no longer wished for Simon to confide in him, knowing that was a lost cause, but he only wished that therapy was something he even considered. 

Simon had been gone for two and half weeks this time, the longest of all his run away trips to wherever he decided to let his heart guide him. Not like it mattered to Soap, it was all the same anyways. Once upon a time Simon’s sporadic nature had seemed charming, a challenge to Soap to weasel his way into the heart of the rugged soldier who had a broken look in his eyes. The window to his soul betraying cracks and rough edges despite the ever present silence that permeated most interactions between him and Ghost. 

Eventually Soap had lodged himself halfway through the walls that Ghost had put up around himself in an effort to keep everyone out and away. Planting C4 until he had blown his way into Ghost’s heart. In more ways than one. Those days of heartfelt dates that left Soap giggling and kicking his feet were long behind the couple. Some days he reminisces on the bar runs that left his cheeks flushed and soul kept warm in the embrace of his kind lover. The kind where they poked fun at each other and teased about their choices of drinks; although, Simon had always known his order by heart and had it ordered before he even sat down. Ever the gentleman. 

Now though? He wasn’t even sure if Simon could recall his favorite color let alone his birthday. He had untethered from the parts Soap could even begin to recognize, changing from charming to alarming in seconds. There were instances where Soap had been frozen with Ghost storming out of their shared apartment with venom still hanging in the air on a string of tension. One that snapped as soon as Soap found himself able to move, only to sit and draw his knees to his chest with a thousand mile stare imbued in his now dull eyes. The hundreds of bullet wounds didn’t compare to the anguish Simon leaving his side over and over again left him with. But that’s mourning, he’d forget it in the morning anyways. 

He took to drinking to quell his sorrows if only temporarily. Price was adamantly against it, but all of his attempts to help blew up in his face with Soap only rebutting that Price couldn’t say shit with his smoking habit. Soap had apologised the day after, but it was enough to get Price to stop trying. It hurt Soap more than Price could ever know that it felt like he had given up on him. Logically, Soap knew that it was well deserved, but his own self-hatred transferred over to his internal turmoil of Simon and his long lasting effects on the man’s own well-being. In the end, he said nothing for three whole days once his Ghost had returned, letting the doubts and resentment fester until he could no longer take it. It ended just how Soap had predicted, with Simon isolating himself until he eventually slipped out of the building they once called home to who knows where. 

The current day was overcast, it was raining and Soap was calling drunk to the number he had memorised. The number that was carved into his ribs and sounded out everytime his heart beat. The phone rang and rang and then beeped with Simon’s gravelly voicemail breaking the anticipation lined with hope that ran through Soap’s veins. He listened to it, despite knowing it wasn’t truly his love. It comforted him in a sick way, knowing that Simon’s continuity was something that he could always expect out of his boyfriend. Shit though, all he wanted was a simple response. A text beyond the ‘be back soon’ that he always sent when he ran away would suffice. He didn’t even need to hear Simon’s voice. He would settle for anything at this point more than the second hand calls that always instilled terror in him that this would be it. That they would be calling him to inform his poor soul that Simon had finally succumbed to his reckless nature. That he was lying dead in a ditch or found shot in an alleyway. It’s not like Soap had much to reassure him that Simon could be better than those circumstances. 

He sighed, stumbling his way over to the countertop where he opened the medicine cabinet. Besides the classic Ibuprofen or Advil everything in there belonged to Soap. Simon had continuously refused to get on meds, let alone take them. The one time that Soap had believed his love had actually started to try and get better, he soon found the still full pill bottle in the trashcan a week later. He thinks on this, deciding that that was when the cracks started to show and the burning train wreck that was their once fruitful relationship came into the light. It was long ago enough and paled in comparison to more recent events that it didn’t even affect Soap beyond a slight tinge of soreness surrounding his heart. 

He grabs an orange container, popping the white lid off and pouring out a small pill into his hand. Doing the same with another, Soap stuck them in his mouth and threw his head back with a swallow. His meds had been upped in the last month, anxiety and depression plaguing his very soul, infection spreading through his veins into his nervous system. He knew exactly who was to blame for this. Although he could never bring himself to mention it to him, aware that it would only bring about another fight that ended in Simon speeding past traffic lights into the ever present gap in space and time. Time and time again it had ended in exactly the same way, and yet Soap could never bring himself to end it completely. He wasn’t entirely sure which one of them would be more broken by that executive decision. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know

Staring out the window on the third floor of the apartment building with a cup of tea clutched in his hand; watching the raindrops race down the window and placing bets on which one would reach the end first. Simon, or himself? The bigger raindrop, or the faster one? There sat a lukewarm cup on the counter just how Simon liked it. He figured that if his beloved returned he would like a warm cup of tea to come home to. Or at least, that’s what he claimed to refute the allegations that he simply was too ingrained in the habit of making two. 

The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts, and Soap simply sighed as he trudged over to the countertop where it was laid to rest. He no longer felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of the ringtone, knowing damn well that it wasn’t going to be anything of value being said to him. He truly had given up on what little hope he held for Simon Riley. 

He clicked the accept button, composing himself for whatever words were going to be spoken. He recognized the caller ID as Price and had a vague recollection of conversation long ago about everything revolving around their Ghost. Soap had chosen not to respond at that point, but maybe he would come around at some point. Unlikely, but considering he was still with Ghost, anything was possible. 

Price’s voice sounded out, reminding him that he did in fact agree to an obligatory run to the pub on this day to simply catch. Of course, that was when Ghost was currently living in the house for once in a blue moon and had agreed to social interaction. They both knew it was bullshit and he would likely be away whenever the monthly tradition had occurred, but they agreed for a sense of shaky normalcy. Soap was right though, and he was doomed to engage with his teammates in an awkward exchange without bringing up the one who was not to be named. He didn’t know what was worse. Sitting there with a stranger in all senses of the word or being alone and facing the pity looks sent his way. Despite knowing the latter is what today had in mind, he responded that he would be there soon over the phone to Price. The man over the phone gave his good wishes and hung up. 

Soap breathed out a shaky sigh, rubbing his face with his hands in an effort to wake up. It was already well into the afternoon, and he had barely eaten anything except the spirits that brought upon numbing from the thoughts of his Ghost. He could barely be called his though. Not with everything that’s going on. The alcohol was warming his chest in a way that Ghost hadn’t been able to do in a long time. He dragged himself to the bathroom, almost slipping on a puddle made from one of the leaky windows on the way there. Simon had promised to fix it sometime soon, but obviously he hadn’t gotten around to it. 

After brushing his teeth, rinsing his mouth of the sickening smell of booze, and fixing his grown out hair into something almost intentional looking, Soap stared at himself in the mirror. He splashed water on his face with the thought that maybe, just maybe, it would rinse off the dark circles around his eyes and the reddish tint his eyes held. He attempted to shave if only a little bit, faltering as he had to focus on what patches he had already gone over. It seemed to pass by quickly, his consciousness transporting him into his room to pick out some clothes. In the end, Soap threw on some jeans that only had minimal dirt and stain on them and pulled over the black hoodie that Simon had gifted him a while ago. Well, gifted was a subjective matter, but Soap had always protested his innocence of stealing it. That memory seemed so long ago. Years if not decades in the slow passing time with Soap stuck in the prison of his own mind. 

Nonetheless, Soap pushed forward, finding himself walking in the rain down to the pub on the corner of the street with his hood up and only his wallet and phone to his name. He staggered along the street, taking a moment to almost feel sorry for what he had become. All for the shame of being young, drunk, and alone. Soap came upon the small run-down establishment and entered, scanning the bar room for familiar faces. He had a feeling he was hallucinating it, but it almost seemed as if he found Simon in all of the faces he saw. At least, until his eyes hazily locked onto the friendly appearance of Price and Gaz sitting in a booth. 

“Hey,” Was all Gaz said.

Price simply looked on with what Soap interpreted as both sympathy and disgust at what he had become. It would’ve hurt less if it wasn’t exactly what Soap was expecting given the fact that he sees the same look in everyone’s eyes. Even his own mirrored back at him. Price offered Soap a seat next to him, scooting over. Soap all but collapsed into the cushioned booth, observing the already ordered drinks. He nodded a simple acknowledgement to Gaz, taking a sip of the water in front of him. It soothed his throat that was sore from crying late into the night, every night. 

“How’s it been?” 

Soap didn’t exactly know who asked that, too distracted to discern the differing voices through the hustle and bustle of the bar on top of it. Nevertheless, he stared down at the water droplets left from his glass on the table and took a moment before speaking, clearing his throat before he did so in anticipation of his larynx protesting. 

“I think you guys know already, we’re past this. Long past it,” Soap croaked out, coughing before taking another sip of his water. 

Gaz and Price shared a silent look full of worry; Soap caught it but chose to say nothing. He had been through this song and dance too many times before to care at this point. He was tired, tired of it all. 

“Son, why do you do this to yourself?” Price pauses before asking this, treating Soap like a wild animal. 

“The fuck do you mean, Price?” Soap spat out, a hiss lining his heavily-accented words. 

“Jesus, dude, look at yourself. You’re losing any semblance of who you really are without. . .” Gaz trailed off, unsure if the name was allowed to be uttered. 

“Without who, Gaz? Without who? Without Ghost? Without Simon? Without my boyfriend? Say the fucking name without it seeming like a taboo word that’ll just send me flying off my hinges. We’re long past that pal,” Soap snapped, eyes bloodshot and bleary. 

His raspy voice had caught the attention of a few patrons around the establishment. He didn’t care, not in the slightest. All meaning to his pitiful life had gone along with Simon the first time he had left, and it had never returned. He fiddled with the loose string on the sleeve that he had been slowly unravelling every time he was nervous ever since he was given the article of clothing. 

“Shit dude, you need help. You need to get away from him. You can’t keep living like this!” Gaz exclaimed, shaking off the harsh words Soap threw in his face.

“He’s right, we don’t like seeing you like this,” Price said in a low voice.

“Oh, so this was just an elaborate intervention, huh?” His Scottish tone was sneaking out as his voice rose with irritation. Whether it was at them, himself, or the whole situation overall was up for debate. 

“Don’t say it like that. You know damn well that Simon doesn’t deserve your forgiveness over and over again just to run off on you. This isn’t a healthy relationship. This is barely a relationship at all. God love that boy, but he has issues that need to be addressed by a proper therapist instead of taking it out on you. We want to help you,” Price said, coaxing Soap into a sense of false security. 

Soap frowned, his jaw tensing up at the very utterance of the truth. The truth that he knew damn well was something he needed to hear. He refused to believe it though; didn’t want to face the facts that his once charming boyfriend had turned his back on him. His narrow eyes focused on an interesting spot on the table as he crossed his arms in pure silence. He chewed at the side of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as his whole body tensed up. Soap had a vague idea of where this was going, and he didn’t like how it would end.

“Looking at you like this, it’s not right,” Gaz began. “I need to know you aren’t a danger to yourself.”

“I’m not going to off myself as soon as I go home,” Soap said, spite coating his every word. 

“That’s not what we mean. You’re drinking yourself to death, Soap. You’re not sleeping. You’re not eating. That’s as much as killing yourself as you can get without tying a noose around your throat,” Price said, his voice echoing inside of Soap’s head, causing pain to evolve around his temple. He really should’ve taken an Advil today. Or maybe two. 

“I’m fine,” Soap says, tiredly. He truly was exhausted, borderline delirious; but if he could just make it through this interaction, he’d be home free to go home and pass out with a bottle in his hand. 

“Like hell you are, we’re getting you in therapy and you’re staying with one of us until you’re deemed okay,” Gaz shoots back.

“You are not seriously considering that? Babysitting me? Right Price?” Soap asks, turning his attention to Price. 

“We believe that it would be for the best; not letting you be alone going stir crazy,” Price explains softly.

“Fuck this, I’m going home. Leave me alone,” Soap brushes off Price’s hand, standing up and shuffling out to the exit. 

“Shit, Soap, wait up,” Gaz says, grabbing Soap’s arm in an attempt to make him stop. To make him actually think about it for a second in order to process it. Maybe if Soap had let him do so, he would’ve gotten help. He would’ve sat back down and listened to what his friends had to say and thrown up a bird to Simon and let that part of his life die away. These thoughts flashed through Soap’s mind for a split second, fading out to instincts as he swung back at Gaz - making sickening contact with Gaz’s nose. The second of silence seemed to never end, until it did. The sound of his own heart roaring in his ears faded as he saw the flash of pain and betrayal in Gaz’s eyes as he clutched his now bleeding face. Shit.

Soap didn’t know what to do except run, and so that’s what he did. It made his stomach turn as flashes of the night of Grave’s betrayal arose in his memories. A phantom pain plaguing his arm and side where bullet particles likely still laid. The environment around him flashed as rain pelted him and his- Simon’s hoodie. Shame bubbled up in his stomach, forcing him to double over in an alley and throw up the pure liquid in his gut despite his attempts to choke it down. That’s where he laid as he stared up at the grey sky. That’s where he laid as he was dragged into the police car by the cops that he presumed Price had sent to track down his pathetic ass. He was forced into handcuffs, something that wasn’t foreign to him. Soap wasn’t exactly surprised that he ended up here, he was only surprised that he didn’t end up in a cop car sooner. 

“Young man, how drunk are you?” A cop asked. Soap finally caught his question after three times of him asking.

Soap looked upon the man with his eyes tinged pink from crying and his throat destroyed from sobbing and mumbling to himself. 

“I beg you sir just let me call, I’ll give you my blood alcohol, I’ll rot with all the burnouts in the cell,” Soap babbled incoherently. He wasn’t even aware of what he was saying; his only thoughts being of hearing Simon’s voice to beg for forgiveness. Or maybe to yell at him for leaving him to end up here. Whatever Soap believed in, it brought good fortune to him and the officer let him pick up the phone to dial the number he knew by heart, even drunk out of his mind. It rang, and rang, and then the beep of the hangup tone rang out in the silence. 

“Just wait I swear he’ll call me back,” Soap cried out, tears of desperation beginning to stream down his face. 

“I’m sorry, I have to take you to the station now,” The officer was overly polite and gentle, able to see the fracturing of the broken man in front of him. His eyes expressed condolences for Soap being hung up on. Even the cops thought Ghost was wrong for hanging up.

“Fuck that, sir, just let me call,” Soap wailed, truly losing himself to the pure distress and anguish with his other half abandoning him in his time of need. 

He was met with silence as the car travelled through traffic lights, and the buzz of the transmitter radio was the only thing breaking through the heavy sobs Soap let out as he hung his head low.

[b1rth3]

Hello. I love call of duty, as you may notice. Anyways heres my top 5 favorite cod charachters, and a top 3 least favorite.

1. Johnny "soap" MacTavish. Hes my husband.

2 John Price. Daddy. Need i say more?

3. Simon "Ghost" Riley. Hes also my husband together with soap. We're all together in my own little world.

4. König. Why doesnt he have a last name? Idk but imma climb that man

5. Nova. Shes hot asf wdym.

Now my least favs.

3. Graves. I dont like his face.

2. Makarov. I dispise his face.

1. Sheperd. Hes so fucking old like what yhe duck and hes so ugly like eww

[echo-three-one]

Chapter 32

THE ROAD SO FAR

Mr. and Mrs. MacTavish

Francine "France" Winters

MacTavish Residence, Glasgow Scotland

3:46 AM

Francine squinted her eyes as she checked her phone, the bright light illuminated her whole visage. No new messages. John promised her he'd text her as soon as the mission was over. According to their briefing, the recon mission should've ended about four hours ago.

She shifted her position and turned to Maxine who looked sound asleep. A soft smile escaped her lips once she realized that Maxine was safe within her reach.

She forced her eyes to close again but couldn't quite get the sleep she needed. She wondered if John ever got tired running in her mind. After failing her last attempt to get some sleep, she slowly got up and made her way to the kitchen for some milk.

Much to her surprise, the kitchen lights were open and Samantha sat on the dining table, her chin rested on her arms as she stared on her phone.

"Can't sleep?" France asked and it shocked Samantha a little.

"Yeah. He's supposed to text me three hours ago. Now I can't help but worry." Samantha groaned in frustration.

"John promised that too…" she slowly placed her phone on the table and it beeped. The womens eyes widened as France excitedly unlocked her phone.

Her smile almost reached the heavens but soon after reading the notification, she suddenly went back to her frown.

"What was it?" Samantha asked, raising her head and looked at Francine.

"A software update notification." Francine sighed and went to grab a glass of milk.

"Say, France… has it ever crossed your mind that John would be the one you'll end up marrying?" Samantha asked. Francine's cheeks burned immediately at the idea as she envisioned herself living in a house with three children with mohawks running around. She wasn't ready for all of it but she's blushing at the sheer idea of it as if she liked it.

"Umm… uh.. I'm not sure. Sam." her tone was really suspicious, as if hiding something and making up blatant lies. She just wished Samantha couldn't see through her.

"Sorry for that kind of question. It's just that… I think that Alex is the one for me… that's why I'm this worried about him. I couldn't sleep knowing he's not beside me…" Samantha explained while pondering her situation. If that was the case for her, then France's insomnia could also mean that she's…

"I guess it's normal to feel that way…" France defended, downing a half full glass of milk.

"You've been with him for quite some time and you both admittedly loved each other, that's why you showed concern toward him." She continued.

"So, that goes to you too? Right?" Samantha asked. France once again got cornered by her own train of thought.

"Look. Yes. I'm concerned about John too… he's…" she smiled.

"He's something else… I'm far too ready to reopen myself to a relationship and he actually told me he was willing to wait and be a friend in need." she continued, now her heart was beating slowly but fluttering at the idea of her thoughts. John was willing to wait. That meant that she could have all the time at her disposal until she was ready to love again. But such time needed was already up, as she was already denying the inevitable feeling of love she was projecting toward the Scotsman.

"Sounds like you're already ready." Samantha teased.

"No I'm not!" France immediately dismissed her, grabbed her phone and went back to bed.

"As a matter of fact, I'll sleep right now!" She said as Samantha just laughed and waved goodnight.

France slowly paced in front of John's room. She felt as if there was a huge magnet pulling her towards it and the longer her phone doesn't ring, the more convinced she was to get in. Succumbing to temptation, she pushed the doors open and sneaked her way in.

His room was always her favorite place in the house. It showcased a lot of his personality that no one could ever see in him. Landscape drawings and sketches filled the room. Football jerseys with autographs were framed on the walls along with photos with his favorite athletes.

At first glance, everyone would say that John MacTavish had it all, but when you're staring at his eyes while having a heart to heart talk, you would know that that isn't all true. He didn't have it all.

France saw his black journal by the bed. It was strange that he didn't bring it for his mission. Last time you asked him what's inside, he just chuckled and said "mission details", showing a sketch of Price labeled 'caterpillar moustache'.

France was then again tempted to open the page where he left off, showing a beautifully sketched face of her, occupying the whole page.

"Tough on the outside, soft in the inside. Just like me." was written on the corner of the page.

"I knew that you saw through me the moment we met…" She whispered as she closed the journal and yawned, crashing on his huge bed they both shared days ago when she needed someone to talk to. Covering herself with the thick covers, she inhaled the signature MacTavish scent which still lingered on his bed and it was actually effective enough to lull her to sleep. It's as if he was there beside her.

France woke up as soon as it came to her senses that Maxine would be looking for her. Throwing the covers away, she immediately rushed back to her room. Pulling the door open and sneaking her way back.

The silent clattering of the plates and casual conversations filled the kitchen. Jack was talking about some of his experiences while Samantha and Maxine were giggling. Much to her curiosity regarding the two unknown voices, both male and female, she slowly descended the staircase and peeked.

Aside from Jack, Samantha and Maxine, there was a man and a woman, possibly married, who sat together by the table. She actually felt nervous once her sight landed on the man. If he was younger, his resemblance with John would be almost accurate. And judging by that look, Francine leaned to the idea that this was John's father.

John's father had the physical qualities of a Scotsman but the appeal of a western businessman. His accent was almost not Scottish.

"Ahh. I miss my home so much. Do you mind if I let loose a little?" Mr. MacTavish asked and his wife, judging by the body language of holding on his hands, chuckled at his idea.

"Don't worry. It's your home. You should feel comfortable." Jack replied with a smile.

With a deep sigh, Mr. MacTavish actually let loose and exhaled a very deep ramble in s heavy Scottish accent. His wife replied with the same energy and everyone cackled. France was amazed at how easygoing his parents were and it told a lot about John's upbringing.

"Ooh! Looks like our other guest woke up!" Mrs. MacTavish mused upon making eye contact with France.

"So Maxine, this is your sister?" Mr. MacTavish.

"Yes, Mr. Jonathan. It's Francine." Maxine answered and France waved and smiled at the MacTavishes. Her whole body felt awkwardly nervous. She felt like this was the 'Meet the Parents' part, except they weren't really a thing… yet.

"Nice to finally meet you, Sir Jonathan and Ma'am…" France shook his hand and paused at Mrs. MacTavish.

"It's Julianne." She smiled and shook her hand. For a moment, Francine actually felt her heartwarming touch as she slowly eased the nervousness away.

"Don't be scared of us dear. We don't bite." She smiled and Francine smiled back. When John told her about how serene he felt around his mother, he wasn't joking. Her aura was powerful.

"Honey, looks like there are a lot more women in the force nowadays. Have you ever wondered if our boy John has liked any of them?" he asked playfully while France was trying her hardest not to choke on her orange juice. It looks like Max and Samantha were just giggling on their own.

"Well dear, why don't we leave it up to John to introduce us to her." She chuckled and held her husband's hand.

"Where is he anyway?" Jonathan looked back by the door.

"He's still on a mission." France answered and everyone else looked at her.

"What I mean is, they are still on their way home." She corrected, stuttering as she replied.

"Well, it's such a shame we had to leave now. Duty calls!" Jonathan stood up and everyone followed them to the front door, waving their goodbyes. France shyly followed behind them and joined the group as they sent their goodbyes to John's parents.

As soon as the car left their sights, everyone else eased and released the pressure they felt.

"Woooah. Soap has some nice parents. I thought they'll get mad at us for crashing in!" Maxine said, sitting beside France.

"Well, Soap just proved to us that not all businessmen are evil, despite what television suggests." Jack added and yawned. It was still early and he already planned on sleeping.

Samantha sat there and stared at her phone. France checked hers too and called her attention.

"I didn't get any texts from him. But I assure you, they'll be here soon."

"So, tell me how worried you were when I didn't text." John smugly asked France while he emerged from the showers, a clean white towel was the only thing wrapping his body.

France just sat by the bed, her whole body facing opposite John. Her brows still furrowed at the idea that he wasn't able to text her that they finished the mission without harm.

Their arrival earlier was not quite the arrival she expected. Her heart was supposed to flutter at the sight of John, but instead sadness filled the whole house. Alexandra Ryder was gone, and it would be too rude to reach for his embrace at the time of mourning.

"I wasn't worried one bit." She spat and crossed her arms. He could hear John laughing a little and she wanted to look at him, but his stubbornness needed to be fixed, that is if she could.

"Really? Then how come I heard from Samantha that you were up at three-" France quickly turned to her back in an attempt to stop his trail of thought, but she was surprised that John's face was already close to hers as he was crawling towards her while he talked.

France's world paused for a little as her eyes met his, gaze locked on his icy blue stare as her heart started to beat differently and her ears started to heat up, and lips slowly formed a smile.

Her eyes trailed down to his lips, where it also happened to curve differently. He was smiling and it never occurred to her that John had smiled like that before. Her lips involuntarily pouted as she felt John's face inch closer to hers, as she slowly closed her eyes and let the Scotsman take over her lips.

The first kiss was quick, their lips just met each other for a short while and they both backed up, eyes locked on to each other, both sparkling and wanting for more.

"Fine." France whispered and reached for his cheek.

"I can't stop worrying about you, dumbass." she added and John let out a soft chuckle, leaning in for another kiss, but this time it was more than they both wanted. This time it felt like they were released from all the things constraining them. France actually gave in to him for the second time, and she was glad that she did this, because John sure was a very good kisser.

Next Chapter : The Broken Ship

Notification Squad my Beloved

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