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b1rds3ye · 1 year

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Radio Silence

The mission required you to separate from the rest of Task Force 141 but when the operation is compromised, all he can do is listen to the panic through the comms until everything goes silent.

Pairings: Captain John Price x GN!Reader, Simon “Ghost” Riley x GN!Reader Reader Aliases: Breeze (Callsign), Bravo 1-5 (Squad-Member Code) Genre: Angst (open-ended), Drama Warning: Descriptions of violence/crashes, blasphemy/religious references, (probably) inaccurate military terms Word Count: 3k (~1.5k each)

Captain John Price

The captain was not a superstitious man, but when you’re on the battlefield, you take all the good fortune you can get. With age he’s picked up a range of small habits and lucky paraphernalia to get him through the mission; an aged penny in his left breast pocket, a four leaf clover stored in another, he finds himself reciting the lord’s prayer even though he’s not particularly religious (and if there is a god he’d like to personally go up and sock them across the face).

When you noticed his little rituals, you added on a good luck charm of your own - his favourite by far. A quick peck on the cheek followed by a teasing little “good luck, captain” in his ear. Price swears there’s something divine in your affection, it does wonders for his morale and efficiency. He thought nothing of it the first few times, but when he realised that this little gift of yours was here to stay, he started to reciprocate in kind when the others weren’t looking. His soul has become tainted over the years - if anything a kiss from him should be a bad omen - but your beaming smile in response convinces him that maybe he’s given you some luck your way.

And perhaps that’s why, after your ritual good luck kiss, he feels a little more than bothered when Laswell calls you away before he can reciprocate. You notice the slight furrow of his eyebrows and laugh, telling him not to worry and that you’ll see him on the other side. The hold you had on his arm disappears as you pull away, bidding him and the rest of the Task Force good luck as you join your own squadron. Price then returns to commandeering his own men, but the thought lingers in the back of his mind. Perhaps you need that extra little bit of luck today.

Price hates how good his intuition can be.

“Bravo 0-6, do you copy?”

With his squadron grounded and on the perimeter of the site, he stiffens at the tone of your voice. That’s not how you usually sound like over comms, that hint of uncertainty didn’t suit you.

“Loud and clear, in position of Site A.”

“Copy, we’re at the compound but… we’ve got company.”

“Al-Qatala?”

“No, looks like Al-Qatala is buddy-buddy with some mercs and- shit.”

“Breeze, what are you seeing?”

“How’d they get us surrounded…?” You mutter more to yourself than to Price but his blood runs cold regardless.

“Bravo 1-5 you are to fall back and wait for backup-”

He’s cut off by various layers of static but he’s learnt to decipher them. The deeper base of the rustle of fabric as you manoeuvre, the sharp trill of gunshots all overlaying the white noise of distant shouting.

“Price, our exits are blocked, they knew we’d be here, how’d they- Corporal! Fuck, stay with me! We’re dropping like flies here. Bravo-1, we’ve got no choice, we have to push through, full offensive!”

He hears the screams of nearby soldiers. While he’s grateful none of them are yours, he knows that the ride back to base will be a rough one regardless. He feels the eyes of his subordinates burn holes into him and the walkie talkie. Gaz, who was beside him, was the only one moving, animatedly talking to Laswell and filling her in on the situation.

“Bravo 1-5-”

There’s an audible sigh on your end that shuts him up.

Through the time it has taken for Price to become captain, he’s learned a lot the hard way. One of the most important things he’s learned is that earning Lady Luck’s favour is more crucial than any skill for the battlefield. Some of the best he’s ever seen has fallen because they pissed her off somehow, but he still never expected her to shun you.

“Just my luck…” your voice starts off quiet as you curse to yourself. A gulp breaks up your panting as you stabilise your breathing. Your next words are far too calm.

“I’m sorry, Price.”

“Sergeant.” Price’s voice was low, cautious. A warning. He knows how you fight, he knows you don’t do anything extreme unless the situation he calls for it, and once again he’s praying to the unknown that it hasn’t come to that.

“I said next time we hit the pub with the 141 that the first round will be on me but I don’t think I can make that.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, Breeze.”

“The merc company goes by Order of Ashes.”

Your words are becoming harder to hear as the explosions seem to be getting closer and closer. Gaz is becoming louder, literally screaming into his comms as he near begs for an evac for your squadron. The rest of his team is becoming restless. Price’s grip tightens impossibly tight on the walkie talkie, any tighter and he could probably crush the metal.

“Rain hell on them for me, yeah?”

Price starts calling for your name, only to be interrupted by a deafening static that has him reeling from his own technology. Inexperienced privates that surrounded him flinched at the sound while Gaz fell silent. Soon Price’s walkie talkie falls silent too.

He brings his hand up to activate communications again, a tentative check in.

“Bravo 1-5, do you copy?”

He waits for a moment.

“Fuck. Breeze? Do you copy?”

The next time he calls out to you is the first time he’s hesitant, to the untrained ear he sounded as strong as ever but to him he recognises how his own voice wavers. A gentle call of your actual name, the last resort.

Silence.

Price gives you a few more seconds to answer, each moment more damning than the last. Gaz sends a concerned look his way but words fail him. He’s a good sergeant but his inexperience is showing. He hasn’t fully mastered the poker face, not like Price has.

Eventually he lets out a heavy exhale through his nose, counting each racing heartbeat it takes until it has marginally slowed.

Gaz instinctively straightened up, he didn’t need to see Price’s face to know his captain was transforming before his very eyes. Price adjusts his hat, looking at the rest of his team under the brim.

“Alright, we’ve got double the work and half the manpower. No time to lose, I want this site cleared within the hour, and then we're finding our other half."

With affirmatives all round, the soldiers get to work and so does Price. To the untrained eye, he’s calm, eerily so. As captain, Price can’t afford to lose his cool, it’ll bleed over and smother his team, blanket them in a tense atmosphere of panic and uncertainty. So he stays resolute, acting as the team’s anchor as he guides them towards the objective with precision.

The only emotion that breaks his facade is anger. Pure, unbridled rage that casts a frightening glaze over his eyes. His allies can see it as Price stomps towards the entrance of the site. Al-Qatala most certainly feel it as their lackeys are pummeled to the ground, bones cracking against stone and tiles. They’re not gifted the mercy of a quick bullet, but the pain of slowly bleeding out with broken bones, bruised bodies and limbs jutting out in all the ways they should not. Every bruising punch, every bullet delivered does little to quell the raging storm within him. It brings him closer to the mission objective but it doesn’t bring him closer to you, and that’s the only thing that matters right now. There’s no hostages, no chance of salvation for his enemies. Any form of good will in Price was taken away when you were taken away from him. He hopes whatever god that sees the carnage he’s inflicted knows that it is only a taste of what to come if he ever meets that poor sod.

When his side of the operation is done and the squadron is now leaving the site, Price returns to his comms. He needs to address the other half of the mission, you. Suddenly his tongue feels thick in his mouth as his throat tightens. His collar is suffocating.

“Bravo 0-6 to Watcher-1 do you copy?”

Laswell’s voice rings out.

“Affirmative. We’ve already dispatched birds to Bravo-1’s location, we’ll do what we can and sort out that compound.”

“Do me one more thing. Find me everything you can on the ‘Order of Ashes’. I want names, locations, families, the whole fucking mile.”

“Can do. … Is this for Breeze?”

“Breeze wanted me to rain hell on them…”

Price’s voice is low as he puts a cigar in his mouth. He lights it up, even when the cigar smokes he keeps the lighter on. His eyes narrow at the flickering flame, fixated on it for a moment longer. He’s never been a particularly superstitious man, but he’s asking for Lady Luck to be on his side once again. For the slim chance that you’re somewhere out there, breathing. He’s never been worthy of her favour, but you damn well are so surely she’ll put that into account. She’ll consider that you still have a lot to do, you still have a good luck kiss that Price needs to return. He puts his lighter away.

“... and I intend to deliver.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost preferred his quieter missions. Others feel safer when in a team but more people mean more variables, and more variables mean more fuck ups, and heavens know he’s had enough of those. For Ghost, the less, the better. And yet, when it came to 141, and in particular to you, he’d pick company over going solo in a heartbeat.

Reconnaissance missions were a personal favourite, they were quiet, less violent if done right and often required only a few people. Of course his first person of choice is you, even if you’d always call these missions an “impromptu date” and then chastise him for not planning something more extravagant just to rile him up.

Even now, when you two were starting on opposite sides of the target site a good few kilometres apart, you were connected through communications. He’d listen as you ramble about anything and everything on your mind when the mission gets quiet. It was endearing, it was soothing. Ghost never thought he’d find someone like you with the power to give him a respite even when on duty - or if he ever deserved such a thing. And yet here he was, sitting against a wall, waiting for further instructions from Laswell as you started the purely hypothetical debate on who in the 141 would best survive the zombie apocalypse.

“Honestly, with a mask like yours you could probably blend in with the horde. 10 out of 10 you’d last your entire life like that.”

“Surrounded by brain dead morons? Already have that.”

He heard your laugh that you tried to mask as an exaggerated scoff.

“How long do you think I’d last?”

“One hour at most.”

“Oh come on Ghost, have a bit more faith in me.”

“All Bravo to Watcher-1, we’re awaiting further action, copy.”

As Laswell replies, Simon can already imagine your offended expression as he changes the topic.

“Bravo-1 this is Watcher-1, you are all clear to close in on the perimeter. Do not engage, just tell us what you see.”

“Watcher-1 this is Bravo 1-5, I’m already seeing hostiles.”

Ghost stills, his hand reaching back up to the comms. You’ve always managed to keep it cool but he heard how your sentence ended with a slight waver. It was too early for speculation, but the alarm bells were already going off in his head. The enemy should be clustered within the site, nowhere near where you currently are.

“I’m counting a dozen men, a couple of trucks and- that’s looking like some impressive cargo.”

There’s some extra static as Ghost finds his pace increasing. He won’t be able to reach you soon, but it doesn’t stop his legs from moving towards the site.

“They’re moving quickly, they’ve got an agenda.”

“Stay frosty, Breeze.”

“Got it, Simon.”

Your voice is more of a whisper now, almost blending in with the static. Was the enemy that close to you already? Usually, he loved when you used his actual name. Everyone calls him ‘Ghost’ even off-duty, but you were proper enough to at least always call him by his callsign in battle. You were getting spooked and he was too far away to even try and comfort you.

It was a strain to unclench his balled fists. He wasn’t going to have a mission go wrong, at least not one that involved you. He’d be damned if something took you out before him, because he refused to return to a life where you weren’t yapping his ear off.

“Breeze, head back to exfil.”

“Fuck, they’re heading this way.”

If you found a good place to hide, Ghost could reach you before any enemy did. He had to.

“I’m heading towards your position. E.T.A 20 minutes.”

“Ghost, my spot is now crawling with hostiles. I know you’re a one man army but I think you’re pushing it this time.”

Your laugh was different this time. It wasn’t as hearty as the one he heard before, it was a weak wheeze. Half-hearted, the sound of a bitter and quiet defeat. He could hear your rugged breathing against the end of the mic. If he was actually with you, he’d stand beside you in moments like this, letting you put your body weight on him discreetly as he anchored you to the world. His gloved hand instinctively curls as he imagines himself holding onto your arm.

“Breeze, stay with me. Focus on the objective.”

“You owe me a proper date after this, Ghost.”

“Then make sure you get back in one piece-”

The comms are disrupted with a voice that Ghost can’t recognise, with you returning an indistinguishable shout and a curse. He can’t help calling your name into the comms, only to hear the static of indescribable commotion, bodies shuffling and the harrowing crack of broken bones and limbs. It escalates into a deafening crescendo spanning only a few seconds before the grand finale of a thump of a fallen body. The transmission ends with a damning click. He stops in his tracks before he returns to the comms.

“Breeze? How copy?”

The line has gone dead. Ghost slams his fist into the nearest wall, but it does little to quell the pain from within.

“Bravo this is Watcher-1, what’s your status?”

Ghost pauses at Laswell’s request, he wants you to be the one who replies on his behalf, you usually do. Never did a moment feel so heavy, outweighing his military gear and weapons, almost bringing the hulking man to his knees. His hand reluctantly comes up to activate his walkie talkie. He takes his sweet time, giving you the chance to interrupt. When he finally speaks, his voice is slow as he draws out every syllable, every pause a desperate invitation for you to speak up.

“Bravo 1-5 is M.I.A.”

Laswell is silent on the other side. Ghost lets his head tilt back until it rests on the wall beside him, the guilt made his skull too heavy. With that sentence alone he felt like your executioner, as if he just brought the possibility of you being gone into reality. The only thing he can hear now is the slight rustle of grass against the wind, a backdrop to the rhythmic bass of his pounding heartbeat. This was a typical ambience for solo missions, and Ghost was used to being alone.

But lonely? He had forgotten how it felt ever since you barged into his life. And now that the feeling has returned, he forgot just how utter shit it feels.

“We’re sending immediate backup to their position. We’ll meet you there.”

But by the time he and the squadron make it to your position, there are only the remnants of a battle left in your wake. A few unrecognised bodies are slumped against the walls, furniture is overturned, and dried blood paints the floor as a macabre dye. Most - if not all - of this must have been your handiwork, and if it was any other circumstance Ghost would feel proud, but you’re not beside him for him to praise you. That being said, there is no sign of you, and that leaves him optimistic, but the other soldiers seemed to think differently.

“You know, they say Al-Qatala never takes prisoners,” one jittery private said to another.

“What’re you trying to say? I've seen the Sergeant. Breeze is tough.”

“I’m just saying, even if we can’t find their body they’re probably d-”

“That’s enough,” Ghost snaps his head to them, eyes alight with a rage usually reserved only for his worst enemies. His voice is near unrecognisable, more akin to a growl than any human sound. He will not tolerate anyone speaking ill of you or doubting your capabilities as a soldier. He tells himself he does it for your honour, nothing more, nothing less. He disregards the selfish need for you to return to him as it wittles him down to the bone and contorts his face to a scowl concealed under his mask.

The soldiers hurriedly salute before exiting the room, leaving the lieutenant alone, shoulders and chest heaving before he moves to continue the search.

The team returns empty handed, but that means nothing to Ghost. Even as he’s issued new missions he does not falter. He fights with the same brutality, killing his enemy before they can kill him because he needs to return home. Return home so he can organise a covert mission of his own - retrieving you. No matter the rank or squadron that separates you, no matter if you’re shipped out to the other side of this godforsaken earth, you two are a team. Combat has hardened Ghost into a brutally honest man, many would call him a pessimist, but a stubborn voice in the back of his mind refuses to believe that you’re gone. You’ve always been a tough nut to crack, if you weren’t you wouldn’t be dating him. He’s seen you stare death in the eyes only for you to stand back up beside him. And so he faces forward and doesn’t look back. Because until he has to rip off the freezing metal of a dog tag from your neck, he swears on his stone cold heart that you’re still out there. Maybe a little tattered, perhaps even broken, but living.

Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #task force 141 x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #captain john price #simon ghost riley #cod 141 #cod mwii #call of duty modern warfare #/*avery actually writes*/

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bits-and-babs · 11 months

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✦ 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ✦

captain john price x f!reader (raven) | smut, 18+ | 4.2k

summary: when a seemingly bulletproof mission goes awry, captain price makes the vital mistake of pursuing the target alone and contributes to the chaos that almost claims the life of one of his men. When he returns, he lacks the humility to accept your reprimand lying down.

cw: mwiii spoiler free. war and violence, mentions of wounded, ooc price maybe a little? angst, enemies to enemies that fuck, reader is pathetically attracted to price because same, literally a voice kink fic disguised as a deep throating fic, very light degradation, bratty behaviour from reader, heavy face fucking, hair pulling, praise, gagging, very little aftercare.

price mlist | main mlist | taglist

It all goes tits up.

Shouts of distress arise across the coms in the CIA conference room, blaring through the headphones glued to the watchers’ heads. Ghost’s gruff voice calls out a casualty, leading General Shepard to launch out of his seat and crash his fist against the tabletop. Mugs of coffee tip over from the force of the impact, liquid bleeding into top secret documents- they aren’t his primary concern.

“Lieutenant, this is Gold Eagle. Is there an issue, Ghost?” Shepard’s voice snarls down the coms.

“Sir, it’s Soap- he’s been hit.”

Hanging your head between your shoulders, you barely register the orders that Shepard screams into the microphone of his headset, his spittle peppering the laptop screen where he oversees the mission descending into chaos. Your ears are ringing, your heart thumping wildly against your sternum. Further panic ensues, Gaz shouting a brief, hurried explanation of the mission breakdown. “… snipers in the mountain, sir. Had to dispatch them- I can’t see Captain Pri—”

“Bravo 2-6, this is Raven. Confirm Captain Price’s location,” you insist, swallowing the alarm that threatens to haemorrhage from your lips.

“Negative, Ma’am. Lost him while dispatching the snipers.”

“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling your blood boil at The Captain’s recklessness. “Fuck!”

Your fingers blur over your keyboard, focusing your attention on John Price’s coms. Again, Shepard barks orders at Ghost, but you can’t hear him over your own heavy breathing and pressing tone as you address Price in a fury.

“Captain Price, this is Raven; confirm your location immediately!”

Silence at first. Coffee drips from the edge of the tabletop by your feet, pooling into the navy-blue carpet. It stains like blood, a dark smear. You can imagine it in Price’s camo uniform, spreading thick and fast from a bullet wound- a direct hit to the chest.

“We’re gonna lose Hassan.”

“Captain Price,” you yell down the microphone, simultaneously relieved to hear his voice and enraged at his increasingly frequent decision to go AWOL, “We will most definitely lose Hassan if I must bury every member of 141! Return to Team Bravo immediately!”

You’re almost certain you can hear Price’s teeth grind together, the enamel straining under the weight of his fury and threatening to crack down to the root. “Are you tellin’ me we let him go?”

“Captain Price, I am telling you that we were given faulty intel. I am telling you that we are sustaining heavy losses and that Sergeant MacTavish is critically wounded, and I am calling for EVAC!” Your knuckles are bleached where your fists hover over the keyboard, nails digging into your palms so hard you’re sure the indents they leave burrow straight to the bone as you await confirmation of Price’s retreat. “Task Force 141 is a priceless tool against Al-Qatala. I cannot afford to lose every member for the sake of a man we will ultimately have to chance to apprehend again!”

Your eyes float to General Shepard. He’s furious, his irises swallowed by the hollow blackness of his pupils as he jerks his head in confirmation of permission to evacuate 141. It shouldn’t have come to this.

“Do you copy, Captain Price?” You yell down the microphone, finally losing your cool with the maddening Englishman that continued to defy your authority.

“… Yes, ma’am.”

The ticking minutes-hand of the analogue clock that hangs above your desk sweeps away half of the day before you have confirmation of 141’s safe return to American soil. A further two hours of urgent, life-saving surgery have you chewing your nails to the quick. By the time word reaches you of Soap’s stable condition, your nailbeds are bloody and raw.

“Intel confirms a convergence of Las Almas fighters on the Mexican-Guatemalan border. We believe they intend to smuggle Hassan out of Mexico and into Venezuela, where they would almost certainly grant him sanctuary. Air surveillance suggests that armed guards patrol the border twenty-four seven, concentrated significantly around a central point where we suggest they will attempt to help Hassan over it. Ghost and Soap will lead a special operations unit to kill all Las Almas fighters on sight. Captain Price and Gaz will handle Hassan and the fighters guarding him with the help of the Mexican Special Forces. Captain Price, you have execute authority, but we want Hassan alive for interrogation.”

Enraged by the complete breakdown of the mission, your mind replays your mission briefing repeatedly, scanning the tiniest of details in vain hope of understanding how such a concise and faultless plan had almost killed a vital member of your task force. You couldn’t have made it more transparent, having covered every possible eventuality. Even the risk of faulty intel had been accounted for, enough backup issued should teams Alpha and Bravo find themselves outnumbered, yet…

“Captain Price and Gaz will handle Hassan and the fighters guarding him.”

High-ranking officials sidestep you as you turn the corner to your offices, just barely escaping your warpath as you zero in on your target. The heels of your polished shoes crack against the lino flooring of the hallway like gunfire, the sound ricocheting off the walls and alerting those in your way to your fury.

Perhaps it would explain the wide-eyed shock already present in both Shepard and Captain Price aimed at the door of the General’s office when you throw it open with rage.

“John!”

“I fucked up--“he attempts to assure you of his guilty conscience, gesturing vaguely to his commanding officer, who no doubt had already laid into him over his poor decision-making. It does little to dispel the bubbling temper that churned in your stomach and coated your tongue with a sour taste.

“You’re damn right, you fucked up,” you scoff loudly, watching Price cross his thick, bulky arms across his chest as he surrenders to your verbal onslaught. “Your decision to ignore my plan and, arguably, go AWOL nearly cost Johnny his life! I’d issued a faultless mission briefing and paired you with Gaz against Hassan! With Gaz!”

General Shepard watched you chew up Price from his seat at his desk, lacing his fingers across the surface littered with pictures that looked as though they’d been ripped from the bodycam and air surveillance footage of the failed mission. Photographic evidence of Price’s incompetency—or rather, his blind faith in himself that he could singlehandedly take on a small army of Las Almas fighters and legendary terrorist fighter Major Hassan Zyani.

A bitter spark flashes across Captain Price’s cerulean eyes, his inflammatory retaliation worming its way between his gritted teeth and rumbling in his chest.

“It’s easy for you to criticise my split-second decisions when you sit behind a desk every mission, barkin’ orders with coffee in your hand.”

It’s a miracle that you restrain yourself, momentarily considering issuing a reminder of your military prowess in the form of hand-to-hand combat. If it weren’t for the haggard strain of John’s voice from his bellowed EVAC orders in a desperate attempt to save Soap’s life, you’d have connected your balled-up fists to his face. Instead, you spit in retaliation.

“Need I remind you that before I used to call the shots, I used to shoot people?”

Price lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head at your comment and opening his mouth to argue. You don’t let him, smothering the threat of his stupid rebuttal of ‘with what, a water pistol?’.

“Your decision to pursue Hassan nearly killed Johnny,” you repeat the undeniable fact, punctuating it with a violent jab of your finger towards him, “Do you realise how close I was to calling into Scotland? How close I was to organising the coffin to bring him home in? How dare you undermine me- disrespect the resume that put me in that seat and the people I killed to get there, Captain.”

If it weren’t for you, Price’d be standing in the pews of a church in Glasgow, draped in black and drenched in red.

Clearing his throat suddenly from his seat, General Shepard just barely splits the brutal tension bludgeoning your skull in the form of a migraine that only seemed to arise in the presence of Captain John Price. It thumps against your temple when Shepard makes a show of standing from his seat and pointing to the door.

“I can leave you both here to sort out your differences. The last thing you will both do is undermine my authority by screaming like petulant children in the corridor in front of my colleagues. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” you both manage to address him, eyes still pinned to each other like a missile’s locking system. Shepard grunts, and you note the twitch of a muscle in Price’s lower eyelid, his anger threatening to claw its way out of his face before he erupted with it.

The door to Shepard’s office swings open, heavy footsteps passing the threshold. In a sick, comedic chain of events, he doesn’t bother to pull it closed again. Instead, it creaks as the hinge closes achingly slowly.

You feel sick when you stare at Price. Not because you fear the words he could aim towards you in a critical hit—instead, you felt nausea at the concept of hearing the gravelly tone of his voice alone, the stabling force of your commanding officer absent.

It’s a dirty little secret that you’d never allowed yourself to speak. Even four Proseccos deep into a rare Christmas gathering of 141, you’d swallowed the word bile down that threatened to use your inebriation to rid yourself of the guilt. Price had admonished your choice of alcohol that night, commenting on how you could have chosen something better- like whiskey. The rumble of his voice in his sarcastic assessment had pooled in your stomach like the liquid amber he had suggested.

How could you possibly admit that the tone of his voice, so gritty and deep, swelled in your clit when you went to bed at night. That you replayed the ridiculous, pathetic one-liners he’d utter over the coms to you. The one time you’d issued a warning of an incoming threat, and Price had offered thanks in the only form he knew to give you: “Tha’s a girl”. You’d made a late-night Amazon order for new bedsheets and a mattress protector that same evening.

Click.

The door shuts, and the sound makes you jump as though John had slammed his fist on a big, red nuclear button.

“Are you done?”

The swallow that drags down your throat at the husked whisper he’d started with is far more audible in the now silent room. The spiteful gaze you had levelled at Price melts away, transfixing on him instead with something akin to dumb-struck, doe-eyed idiocy.

“P-Pardon?” You stumble over the two-syllable word that had confidently come to mind. Working in a building that relied so much on manners, there was absolutely no excuse for butchering a word you used upwards of fifty times a day.

Price’s eyebrow arches pointedly at you, the flickering ember in his irises that had previously resembled an inextinguishable fury instead glows with an amused curiosity at your very sudden surrender.

“Are you done making me look like a rookie in front of General Shepard?” He clarifies, stalking forward. He crosses the space between you both with long, cocky strides that make your heart pump double time when he finally settles in front of you. “Are. You. Done?”

“Hah-!” You laugh. You mean for it to mock his ridiculous notion, but instead, it’s all choked, nervous and airy because that damn voice knocks the oxygen from your lungs like he’d rendered a sucker punch to your gut. Price’s eyes pin you to your spot on the floor, root your feet to the coffee-stained carpet.

It’s utterly infuriating how he tilts his head in a smug observation of your panicked expression. You can see the exact moment he notes the tremble of your inhaled breath and the heat of your arousal rolling off your body. Fuck-

“John-“

There it is. Comprehension. The glistening sweat at your temple, the wide-eyed nervousness in your expression, and the breathy whisper of his name all surged forward and lit the bulb of realisation in his mind. You can practically see the golden glow of it in his pupils, a switch tck’ing when he murmurs an ‘oh’.

His lips split into a toothy, wily grin, “Oh, look at you, Station Chief.”

You bristle with panic with the way he makes a point to emphasise your rank, your lips parting in shock when he reaches up to grasp your chin in his hand.

“Who are you to question my decisions? You don’t even know if you want my cock in your mouth or your cunt.”

The sheer filth he utters makes your head reel as though he’d fed you some of his mind-numbing whiskey. You’re confident you’re gawping at him when he smirks at your reaction, his calloused thumbpad brushing across the bridge of your jaw. It reminds you of the way he caresses the trigger of a sniper rifle before he fires it and how you’d spent so many nights imagining that touch when you circled your clit-

“How ’bout we start with your mouth?” He urges you with a smokiness that rivals the puffs of his cigar. You loathed him for his smoking habits when the acrid scent clung to your hair but worshipped him for it when you buried your nose into your pillows when you came with a silent cry of his name.

You see his smirk widen suddenly, and it takes you far too long to realise that you’d let out a devastating whine at his lurid suggestion. John’s fingers and thumb settle on the pillowy flesh of your cheeks on either side of your mouth, pushing against them until your lips are pursed. It’s undignified, far beneath your station, but then-

“Gunna wanna open that mouth nice an’ wide for me, Dove.”

You sink to the floor of your commanding officer’s office floor before your rational mind even has a chance to talk you out of the offence- or acknowledge the choice of pet name that cheekily undermined your call sign. Your perfectly tailored office trousers crease beneath the weight of your knees… But suffering through cleaning and ironing them again was worth the rumble of a groan that fell from John’s lips as he watched you kneel for him.

“Fuck,” Price hums in appreciation, those gorgeous sky-blue irises swallowed by the midnight black of his pupils once more, “Spend all your time issuin’ orders, but you just needed someone else to take control, didn’ you, Love?”

For a moment, you hesitate. It’s improper, the way your knees ache with the hard floor beneath them. A tiny, quiet voice urges you to stand and rush out of the room before you damage your reputation any further, but the clink of John’s standard-issue belt buckle has your jaw falling slack before the idea can truly take root.

“Look at you,” he stresses again as he pulls the length of the belt from its loops with a slow thwppp sound, “So greedy for my cock. Anyone would think you’d been desperate for it all this time.”

John drags down his zipper, watching you look at him through your lashes. You don’t dismiss his hypothesis, instead choosing to stick your tongue out for him in an obscene act of fervour. The haggard groan that lurches from John’s lungs settles deep inside your cunt.

“You filthy girl,” he gasps, hurrying his hand into his trousers. He doesn’t even strip the pants from his hips, instead fishing his cock from his boxers and settling his balls against their waistband. “You have, haven’t you? How often did you touch yourself beneath the table while I spoke to you over the comms? Hmm?”

You’re so far gone now, so drunk on the idea of the agitating, ridiculous, utterly infuriating Captain finally fucking you that you might have answered that question-- if you’d heard it. Instead, his voice, which previously captured every fibre of your attention, drowned into the background of the thumping pulse in your ears. His cock sits just in front of your face, and it’s like you can’t breathe.

Ruddy and red at the tip, his cock already drools precum down the curve of its shaft. Veins throb beneath the thin, velvety skin, their ridges glistening beneath the wet tracks that his leaking seed leaves. It settles at the base, where his heavy balls rest against his boxer’s elastic waistband.

His question dies in the thick tension in the air, and you lean forward on your knees to press your drooling tongue right at the base of John’s cock where his precum pools. Your unexpected starting position causes John to spit out a curse, his fingers flying out to grip the strands of hair at the crown of your skull. “S-Shit-“

Saltiness coats your tongue where you lap up his cum, flattening your tongue against the underside of his shaft to trace his pronounced frenulum. Dragging your tastebuds upwards, you collect the tracks the droplets had left behind until the tip of your tongue rests on the underside of his fat cockhead. It’s disgusting, the relieved whine that escapes your open throat, but the vibration tips Captain John Price over the edge.

“Fuck! Eyes on me, Dove. Wanna see your eyes- that’s it.” John’s face contorts, brows creasing, and the edges of his lips turned down beneath the coarse hair of his beard as you look up at him, kissing the head of his velvety dick and slipping it into your mouth.

“Take orders so well. So obedient,” he purrs, the rumbling sound edging into a moan when you ease more of him into your mouth. He’s trying to play off the power dynamic, you note. Getting off on the fact that you’re his superior, but that he held the authority like this. A playful resentment teases the edge of your mind, urging you to remind him of his place.

You drag the edges of your teeth over his shaft. Not hard enough to hurt- just enough for a singing hiss to echo in the quiet room when you pull back from his cock.

It’s a mistake.

John grasps your hair at the back of your head, winding the strands around your fingers and suddenly rocks his hips forward. The length of his cock slides deep down your throat, and you splutter as your nose crushes into his pubic bone. “Couldn’t fuckin’ help yourself, could you?”

His gravelly reprimand swirls a ghost-like touch around your clit, and you gag around the length that intrudes against your throat walls. Price tuts softly, feeling your nails dig into his flesh beneath the camo canvas still covering his muscular thighs. It’s only when tears cling to your lashes that he draws your head back with a pull of your hair.

Gasping down a heavy breath, you splutter when John groans loudly. His cock twitches, drooling more precum as you gasp for breath, and he drags his eyes across your face. “Good fuckin’ girl. Takin’ me like that- didn’t it feel good?”

God, you’re nodding pathetically, tongue already lolling from your lips in a silent plea for more. The heaviness of his cock against your tongue and the vibrations of his lurid tone are enough for you to cum on their own, and you want more of them. John groans, a chuckle settling somewhere between the sound as he grasps the nape of your neck.

“Jus’ like that, you dirty girl,” he urges you, his free hand tapping at his balls in a wordless order. This time, you obey, tonguing over his finger before taking one of his balls into your mouth. You can hear the shaky exhale that rattles in his lungs when you suck.

“So fuckin’ good for me. I’ll fuck you against that desk one day, you hear?” You see him point in the corner of your vision, his index finger aiming at General Shepard’s desk. Realisation slams into you and rocks your clit with arousal- Shepard could walk in at any second and see his right-hand man stuffing Captain Price’s cock down her throat in the ultimate show of disrespect. John doesn’t seem worried about it. In fact, it’s as though he gets off on the idea, his eyes darting to the door as he details his plans for you.

“Think you’d look real nice on it. Far better than ‘is tacky nameplate. We’d make a mess together, get our cum all over it so he can smell jus’ how wrecked I left you-“

Moaning around the length of his cock, your clit throbbing desperately with his words, the vibrations cause John’s hips to lurch forward again. The head of his dick prods the back of your throat, but John’s tight grip doesn’t allow you to pull back. He’s buried to the hilt, twitching against your palate.

“Fuckin’ droolin’ for it, Love. It’s dripping down your chin—Fuck, you look so pretty like this,” He’s slurring his words as he watches you bob your head up and down on his length, swallowing around him and just barely holding back your gag reflex. It’s quick, messy, and loud, the wet sounds ricocheting off the office’s walls.

“D’you think he’s got cameras in here?” John muses, his voice thick with his incoming orgasm. The sound of it, the arousal coating his tongue has you whining desperately, “Why don’t you touch yourself, hmm? Give ’im a show.”

You sob around his girth like he’d just offered you a miracle. Fumbling, you don’t even bother wasting time trying to shove your hand down your trousers. Your fingers find the vague outline of your cunt through the crotch, roughly circling your clit through the layers of material.

It’s all you need. Your eyes roll back into your skull at just how close you are to cumming, your thighs trembling beneath your weight. You soaked through your panties and into the crotch of your trousers.

“Fuckin’ slutty girl,” John gasps, and you feel his cock jump at the sight of you already teetering on the edge, “’s my voice getting’ you off? Fuck, you’re fuckin’ perfect-“

Stop. Stop; you need him to stop. Your orgasm is ebbing at the edges of your abdomen, threatening to swallow you whole and drawing up tight, but John won’t shut the fuck up.

“C’mon, Love. Deeper. Deeper, that’s it. I’ll fuckin’ lick your pretty pussy if yo-“

His promises drown out with the surge of bliss that roars in your ears. Price times it perfectly, rocking his cock further down your throat so that you gag around his length. The lack of oxygen causes your nerve endings to sing when it cracks down your spine, bursting through your abdomen and spidering across your limbs like white-hot plasma.

Everything is loose with ecstasy, and it allows Price to issue one, two, three more brutal thrusts of his hips before he’s choking out a haggard warning that he’s going to cum.

“F-Fuck-“He chokes out, holding the nape of your neck before burying himself as deep as he possibly can without choking you, hot ropes of cum spurting down your throat. Even in your post-orgasm haze, mind numb, you swallow him down greedily. Big, heavy gulps, even licking your lips when he removes his dick from your throat to milk out the last drops of his cum onto them.

“Tha’s my girl, good, don’t let a drop go to waste.”

Price’s hand pushes back the mess of your hair from your face, careful to remove the strands that had clung to your tear-soaked eyelashes. You hold your breath, heart stilling its rapid beat as he brushes his thumb across your cheekbone to swipe up the tear tracks that had leaked from your eyes during his assault on your throat. It’s a single moment of tenderness, barely there, before he withdraws his touch to stuff himself back into his pants.

“Can you stand?” Price asks, his voice even hoarser than when you’d first walked into the room, like the moans you’d elicited from him were like sandpaper in his already raw throat. He holds out a palm- but you’re not cock-dumb enough to believe it’s a makeshift olive branch.

“Yes,” you whisper, matching his brutalised tone with your own as you bat away the helping hand he offers you. Price can’t help but scoff at your dismissal. Turns out even a dick down your throat wasn’t enough to change your uptight attitude. He watches you stand on shaky feet, trying to smooth out your creased knees before Shepard could wonder how exactly you’d made such a mess of yourself.

Besides your heaving breaths, still desperately pulling oxygen in your lungs to soothe the burn, the room is silent. Price finishes righting himself, smoothing his fingers through his cropped hair.

“Don’t forget what I said,” he murmurs, eyes sliding over to the desk. His promise to fuck you on it only barely re-enters your mind following a pointed look. Satiated somewhat by the blistering orgasm that had ripped through you, your rage struggles to roar to life like it had when you’d entered this room. Now it smelt like sex, and your anger only simmers in the base of your stomach.

“That is not happening again,” you promise him firmly.

“Mhmm,” he hums, following Shepard’s footsteps towards the door, “We’ll see about that, Dove.”

cod mwii/kinktober taglist:

@mockerycrow @bubuslutty @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @levi-llama @thebiscuitsheep @maelstrom007 @alexxavicry @bug-sy-boy @glennrheesworld @kittenfrostt @luvfromkat @blingblong55 @whore4dilfs @wolfyland07 @doggydale @dog55teeth @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @whore-for-anime @i-love-ghost @cyberpr1m3 @mockerycrow @bubuslutty @lundenloves @cheezitwh0re @haunt3dh3art @babychoi03 @infectedkura @allekat1988 @whore-for-anime @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @mockerycrow @cyberpr1m3 @i-love-ghost @allekat1988 @infectedkura @babychoi03 @freakquenci @maviee @yunggoblin @sleepystaarr @watyousayin @soupbinsoup @passi0np1t @damn-dean-blog @pheonyxmoon @magicalreviewphantom @limegreenbabx @johfaam0 @iaur @justsayk

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @maviee @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @s-u-t @ghostslynx @solidly-indulgent @glitterypirateduck @gummyfang @bii-aan-ckaa @konigsblog @crissteetee @crissteetee67 @sylvanasthebansheequeen @akaym2 @exploremyworldsm @thriving-n-jiving @su57 @cabreezer0117 @cathnoneofyourbusiness @marygraceee @thatchickwiththecamera @legend-o-zelda @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @tusk89 @bellasbees01 @dog55teeth

#꒰꒰ ‧₊˚ my works ˚₊· ꒱꒱#꒰ ‧₊˚ john price ˚₊· ꒱#john price smut #captain john price #captain john price x reader #john price #john price x reader #captain john price smut #modern warfare 2 #mw2 smut #price smut #cod smut #call of duty smut #call of duty #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod #barry sloane #barry sloane x reader

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nrdmssgs · 1 year

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Ao3 I Art portfolio I Instagram I TikTok I Twitter I Ko-Fi

Requests open

Commission slots available Tags:

Scenario 🎞️

Headcannons 💭

Smut 💋

Fluff 🌸

Angst 😭

Heavy TWs ‼️

Short story 📄

Series 📖

Drawing 🎨

3D 🖥️

Here is Alex Keller Masterlist

Here is König Masterlist

Him meeting civilian reader 🎞️ I part 2 🎞️

John Price x reader (friends2lovers) 🌸💋📖I part 2 💋

John Price comforting reader 🎞️😭

Kissing Price on the forehead 🌸📄

Price confessing to you too soon 😭🌸‼️📄

Bravo six staying fit 🎨

Loud weighted blanket 🎨

He loves hugs 🎨

Shibari 🎨

Shirtless 🎨

Running together out of the theater in the middle of the movie 🎞️

Soap comforting reader 🎞️🌸

Before he snaps 😭‼️📄

Reader denying her crush on Soap 🌸📄

Soap dealing with reader, who is never too shy to talk back 🌸📄

It's melting outside 🎨

Soapy boy 🎨

Sleepy boy 🎨

The best of us 🖥️

Understanding too late, that he fell for you 😭📖 I part 2 😭🌸

Kissing him on the forehead 😭🌸📄

You're in good hands, love 🎨

What he gets? 🎨

A hand bearing peace 🎨

Sharing is caring 🎨

Halloween AU 🎨 +Animated

Gift unwrapped 🎨

With his love and her sword 🎨

With a crown 🎨

Silence 🎨

Don't follow me🖥️

SFW headcannons 💭

Handsome rascal 🌸📄

Fifty words challenge 😭📄

Motherland would be proud 🎨

With his beloved 🎨

My hangar my rules 🎨

In overall 🎨

FantasyAU🎨

A heart full of pity (part 1) 😭‼️📖 I part 2 😭 I part 3 😭🌸 I part 4 (final) 😭🌸💋‼️

Darker matters (A heart full of petty sequel. part 1) 📖 I part 2 😭 I part 3 😭 I part 4 😭 I part 5 😭‼️‼️‼️I part 6 😭 I part 7 😭 I part 8 😭‼️I part 9 (final) 😭🌸

Shameless smut with Zhar 📄💋

NSFW alphabet with Zhar📄💋

A wall of silence (a prequel to a heart full of pity) 😭📄

Shapeshifters AU📄🌸

Silly HCs 💭🌸

Wholesome HCs 💭🌸

Fantasy AU🎨

Here is Nikto Masterlist

Them finding out the reader is Prices adopted daughter 📄😭🌸

Little things, they do (Alex, Soap, König) 💭🌸

Little things, they do 2 (Price, Ghost, Gaz) 💭🌸

TF 141 + Nikolai reacting on reader, having hot smug smirk 💭🎞️🌸

Reacting to the reader, accidentally falling asleep on them. (Soap, Alex, König) 💭🎞️🌸

Reacting to the reader, accidentally falling asleep on them. (Price, Ghost, Gaz) 💭🎞️🌸

TF 141 reacting on reader, asking them for a dance in the rain 💭🎞️🌸

Sharing one bed with your friend from 141 💭🎞️🌸

TF 141 + Nikolai taking you home from hospital after minor injury 💭🎞️🌸

How your first kisses with Ghost, Soap, Gaz would feel 📄🌸

How your first kisses with Price, Nikolai, König would feel📄🌸

How your first kisses wit Nikto and Gromsko would feel📄🌸

Geographical HCs (König, Krueger, Nikolai) 💭

TF 141 + Nikolai, Zhar and Riot playing monopoly 💭🎞️

Yuri 🎨

Krueger 🎨

Krueger defender 🎨

Husband Gromsko HCs 💭🌸

OCs Masterlist

#masterlist #main post #cod masterlist

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kivino · 11 months

Note

KIVI, YOU SWEET ANGEL YOU.

can you write a price x gn!paramedic!reader where price is on leave, and maybe he gets into a car accident that isn’t too bad so he refuses to go to the hospital, but the cute paramedic keeps insisting on at least checking him out in the ambulance……….. 😋

DOUBLE VISION || JOHN 'BRAVO 0-6' PRICE X PARAMEDIC!GN!READER

Word counter – ~1.9k

Tags/Warnings – mentions of car crash, intoxication, medical examinations, fluff, first meeting, and lack of medical professionalism, lmao.

A/n – PLSS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT POOKIE, IT TOOK ME A HOT MINUTE TO GET TO THE REQUEST I’M SORRY MWAH. also credits for the name go to @mockerycrow as well, they’re a genious and have the biggest brain out of the two of us.

ao3 link for this fic

It’s always a slow process for John - getting used to the slow, civilian ways when he finally gets his leaves approved. When he spends so much time on the field, more often than not he starts to forget about “the other side” of life. Lack of noise, mundane mornings, and silent nights come and with them, the all-encompassing feeling of loneliness starts to set in his gut. John gets reminded about the lack of anyone’s presence in his life. No one is waiting for him back home, and no one will probably be any time soon, with how work takes over most of his free time. And then the captain remembers he’s not getting any younger.

Of course, he had plenty of experience and relationships before, but none of them lasted until now when his hair was already graying and wrinkles were starting to riddle his face here and there. John wasn’t insecure about his age, no, because that would be foolish, really, rather it was the fact that he had no one to share with all the years that were ahead of him.

What John also had a hard time getting used to was driving the busy streets of London with its crazy drivers after months of not getting behind the wheel, which brings him to this moment. Well, it really was on him for trying to get somewhere after happy hour in all the pubs in the area ended, he should’ve probably anticipated some drunk idiot would want to drive back home today. John wasn’t in the right headspace at the moment to fill out all the paperwork and figure out who was in the wrong. His thoughts were far away from here. Probably all the impact from the airbag and the hit.

He’s had it worse before, of course, so some bruises and scratches here and there wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. John felt some pulsing pain in his knee, making it harder to stand upright, and a bit of an ache in his neck from the whiplash, but again, it wasn’t as bad as getting thrown into the wall by an explosion or falling out of a damn helicopter.

So now he has to spend the whole evening working out things with the police and that drunk idiot who bumped into him, freezing his ass off in the rain. Just perfect. John feels a surge of annoyance and exhaustion wash over him, he pinches his brow, letting out an impatient sigh. Cops have arrived on the scene already and started examining the two collided vehicles, after putting around some traffic cones so some other lucky fellas don’t decide to join in on the fun. From his spot on the sidewalk, John can also see the paramedics, who had to get involved because as soon as cops started questioning that drunk guy, he decided to scrunch into himself and show the world all the contents of his stomach. As if it needed to get even more complicated than it already was.

“Excuse me, sir? You’re the other…driver involved in the accident?” John suddenly hears a voice, a bit on the quiet side, which brings him out of his thoughts that involve strangling somebody in a variety of different ways. And oh, his nights instantly become tens, if not thousands of times better when he sees the owner of said voice.

Judging by the identifying markings you were a paramedic, and a very cute one at that, with your dull green uniform and a big jacket on, brows tied together in a concerned expression. Oh, and your eyes, they looked absolutely lovely in the low streetlights. Price is taken aback for the moment, forgetting every word in his vocabulary. He feels his heart starting to beat faster, blood flowing through his veins so fast he’s sure if it wasn’t for the evening darkness he’d most likely resemble a tomato. But then John realizes he must say something because just staring at you would just make him seem like some old creep. And he absolutely didn’t want that.

“Yes, that would be me.” He speaks up after clearing his throat. You nod to that, attentive gaze still on him. John then adds on after a short pause, which took him to let out a deep sigh. “You need me for anything?” Anything. Something. Please.

“Just checking up.” John feels his heart melt at that small smile that grazes your lips, making it obvious you’re satisfied with his answer. “You seem to be holding up better than the other driver.” You joke in an attempt to either lighten up the mood, which John appreciates, or to calm yourself a bit. It didn’t escape him how you seemed a little shaky. It was Friday night, so today’s shift might have been rough on you. Always the Friday nights.

“Well, anyone would hold up better than that bloke.” He jokes with a bit of abandon, a low chuckle escaping his lips, as he starts to overthink himself. John suddenly feels like a dumb teenager, which is never a good sign, especially when there is someone he’s interested in right in front of him. Price feels like his laugh is too rough, stance is too relaxed and everything is just a bit too much when your eyes are on him. Oh, he’s so going to embarrass himself.

“True, but let’s not tell him that.” You give a quiet laugh and John’s worries die down a little. Not completely, but enough to let his eyes get glued to your face. “How are you feeling? Is there any abnormal pain, anything unusual or out of the ordinary?” Oh, so you’re the type to get straight to business, huh? Interesting. Price liked that. “If there’s anything wrong we’ll get you right to the hospital.” Price declined when he got asked about the hospital before by another paramedic because there was no way he was going to spend even more time out of his house because of some minor scratches. But if it meant you’ll be there, he’s calling dibs on the seat beside you in the ambulance truck, dear lord.

“My knee’s complaining a bit, love.” John can see your eyes going as big as two shiny coins when you hear that pet name, which, to be fair, slipped out completely unintentionally. However, by the way you instantly light up in another shy smile, he can tell you don’t really mind it, so his nervousness caused by this… “happy accident”, comes down again. “Some bruises, but I’m not about to hold you up because of those.”

“Oh, well, that’s alright, come with me and I can check you out…” You stutter over your words while talking a bit too quickly and once you understand what you said, an annoyed groan comes out of you. Way to embarrass yourself. “I mean, check your knee out in the ambulance, alright?” You again shoot him a smile. Which probably is in vain, since he’s a patient at the moment, and you’re at work, and that’s very much frowned upon, but what can you do? You don’t meet a man like that everywhere. He looks a bit rough around the edges, but that’s part of the charm.

“I’m sure your hands are already full with that hero of the day over there, I’m good.” What. The fuck. Are you doing. John. The only chance he gets to talk to you and he’s blowing it, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know why he said that. Maybe not to seem desperate in a very self-sabotaging way, but that’s just. Oh, John, you’re too old for playing some damn games with someone you like.

“You know what? I insist.” Your voice is lower and rougher. And when you top it off with another one of your sweet smiles and a gentle touch on his shoulder? John is a gone man. Turning into complete mush, putty, if you will. God, for this perfect smile he was ready to smash and repair every single house appliance and pipe in your house.

“Alright then. Anything for you, love, lead the way.” And you did, with your hand resting softly on his back, helping him forward. John wished you would’ve been bolder with your touch, so he could feel more than just a light graze, but still. It felt good.

And then he finds himself in the back of the ambulance truck, this cramped, tiny space making him hold his breath from being so goddamn nervous in your presence. You told him to take a seat while rummaging through some cabinets and various medical bags for something. Seemingly not finding anything that you needed you spoke up to him again.

“Okay, now let me see your knee, sir.” You mumbled while kneeling in front of him, your eyes concentrated on the man. He didn’t mind you calling him sir at all. John was so used to being called that, but right now it just spread that very pleasant warm feeling inside of him.

“Well, I’m not taking my pants off. Not without a dinner first.” Price chuckled, as he tried rolling up one of his pants legs. And, well, his statement wasn’t that far from the truth. The whole deal with examination was a bit awkward to begin with, so he didn’t want to make it even worse.

“I’ll think about it, big guy.” You chuckle, as you finally start looking at his knee, small, feather-light touches sending sparks over Price’s skin. So, you enjoyed teasing him like that, huh? In combination with that nice, sweet smile? Oh, John is sold. He definitely should you invite somewhere while he still has time on his leave. But before he can open his mouth to make a brave offer you speak up again. “Looks like you have a minor sprain in here, your knee’s all swollen. I’ll apply some elastic bandages, that you’re going to have to wear for some time and redo yourself. But overall you seem to be doing good” Price couldn’t help but feel like that last remark wasn’t about his health.

“Yeah. Yeah. That’s all fine with me, love. Do what you have to.” You only nod in response, spending some time rummaging in the cupboards once again and emerging victorious with a roll of elastic bandages in your hands. You return to your previous position in front of John, and adjust his knee with a firm hand, mumbling a quiet “Hold still, please”. Oh, he’d freeze for centuries if you had asked him to. But he does, and as you wrap the bandage around his knee, which just kept pulsing with hot pain, he couldn’t help but admire you. The trained movements, the concentrated gaze, the warm touch…Maybe he really should act on his thoughts. Maybe it’s his chance. Maybe something can work out and this accidental meeting will become…something more.

Price wanted it to become something more.

His imagination ran rampant, picturing you wearing something nice and fancy, in case you do agree on a date. John totally should not be thinking this when you were right there, finally putting some finishing touches on his knee bandaging, so he forced them out of his mind and cleared his throat. Here goes nothing. But before Price can even utter a single sound you’re already being called over by your colleague. Guess he’ll just have to wait until you’re free of your duties, huh?

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sillyunknownkitkat · 8 months

Note

Could you write Nikolai and price hcs with a gn!reader whose taller then them

Nikolai and Price with a taller gn! Reader

Tw: swearing from the author

NIKOLAI (???) :

This man doesn't really care as long as you're not like, crazy tall.

I mean, yeah, he might throw some jokes here and there, but that's pretty much it.

Though, I don't know where that headcanon comes from, but Nikolai has a makeshift appartement above his garage. It's a bit wonky and all, but it's home.

So, assuming you live with him, he definitely uses your height to his advantage.

Like, he'd be a little shit and will ask you to get thing from the higher shelves (even though he can reach them very well by himself..)

He would get a little upset if you ever talk down to yourself because of your height. Or anything in that matter, actually.

Stop saying awful thing about the love of his life. He'll kick your butt with a ton of little pecks all over your face.

And oh my God, if you're not insecure at all and actually embrace your height???

He's head over heels for you! Go, girl/man/person(?) !

He's supporting you all.the.way. and I really mean it.

I don't have much more to say, honestly. Both Price and him are gentle(ish?), kinda lovers.

JOHN 'BRAVO SIX' PRICE :

So, you could maybe get a little reaction out of Nikolai, but Price? Nope.

He has seen it all. Or at least, almost all.

Though, he understands that being taller than most people can be an insecurity of yours.

I don't think I'll ever be able to say it enough but listen.

Praise, praise, praise.

That's right. This man loves to praise you, and why wouldn't he? To him, you're the most amazing being that whatever is up there has ever created.

Same as Nikolai here, if you're actually embracing your height instead of being insecure

He's all for it.

Like, maybe someone said a mean-ish comment about your height??

"That's just a thing that makes them even more beautiful. Ain't that right, ___?" "Affirmative, sir."

Totally not just took Alex and Price dialog, not at all...

Hi! Sorry you had to wait this long for that...

Life is kinda hard on me right now so huh, yeah.

Love y'all. Have a good day/night and be safe <3

#cod headcanons #cod fanfiction #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod nikolai x reader #john price x reader #john bravo 6 price x reader #price x reader

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lovethetasteofnothing · 1 year

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You have a thing for accents, they find out/ you have an accent - TF 141, Los Vaqueros + Farah + Valeria + Alex

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙

includes: captain price, simon "ghost" riley, kyle "gaz" garrick, johnny "soap" mactavish, kate laswell, farah karim, alex keller, alejandro vargas, rodolfo "rudy" parra, valeria garza (everyone getting fed today; yes the boys get their smutty content too)

gn!reader, except for laswell x fem!reader (she's a lesbian, argue w the wall), fem terms of endearment

warnings: nsfw content, dirty talk (like a lot), degradation kink, praise kink (yes, you get both) reader has a tendecy to repeat words they like the sound of (pretty much copies the way they say it bc it sounds nice), multiple themes idk what i'm talking about atp

word count: 2.5k+, aprox. 250 words/ character

enjoy <3

Captain John Price

he doesn't notice it at first, he just thinks you're smiling because his dad jokes are good

you say he sounds like a regular British dad at a football match (yes, football, I'm European too)

it makes his day because if he hadn't joined the military he would have probably been one by now

you call him Bravo 0-6 sometimes, you say it in his accent because why wouldn't you

repeating his favorite phrases from missions that he brags about because you think it's cute

insert cute Price smiley face here when he hears you(bc i love it so much)

you asked him for wa-ah once, he still isn't over it

you call him a lad/old man if his accent becomes really prominent

but you can't help the way his words make your heart race and the way he says them...

your underwear is sopping wet, your honor!

you freeze up and blush when he pulls off the filthiest sentence in a British accent

when he starts talking dirty during sex you can't help but moan louder/twitch/squeeze around him

that's when he figures it out

it kind of just connects in his brain and he uses it to his advantage

"look at the way you're taking me so good, princess"

will not let you live, constantly teases you about it

he'd call you 'princess' and 'duckling'

you quack at him if you're reallly feeling silly

recorded you doing it once, his favorite video of you by far

Simon "Ghost" Riley

you call him posh just to annoy him

gives you the hardest side eye of your entire life and you take it back

you tell him the Queen died and he doesn't have to keep the act up when he really pushes it (he calls you a tosser)

insert one of his dad jokes in here

you only laugh because you love him and your humor is broken

probably uses 'bloody' on the regular; calls you 'luv' and 'pet" 100%

like that man could just pull out a "What in the bloody hell did you just do, pet?" and you'd turn back time to make him happy

calls you his princess. emphasis on 'his" because it's never missing

definitely also the type of person to just copy whatever you said if he likes the way it sounds

when you're arguing, you just copy the phrases he said as arguments

good that the mask hides his smile or he'd always lose

loves the fact that you use terms of endearment in your native language for him (for my multilingual babes)

struggles to learn your native language but still tries

listens in on your conversations just so he can learn it better

upset when he can't learn bc his job doesn't give him enough time

turns into a big softie if you scold him in it

you record phone calls and save voice notes so you can listen to them while he's gone on missions

just the sound of his voice is so hot comforting

dirty talker supreme! i feel like he'd praise you more but there's a hint of degradation

just like a sparkle and he'd ask you five times beforehand if it's okay with you

you can't help it when your brain goes blank, the sound of his voice filling up every single corner of your mind (his dick does the same)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

you also call him posh

actually pulls out a posh accent to egg you on

you're both laughing so hard by the end of it

pulls out the most British of British sentences and leaves you shocked because the only word you understood was 'and'

clap because that's impressive

loves your accent if you have one

makes you say a word three times because he's fucking head over heels for the way your voice sounds

dirty talk champ!

but only when he feels like it

makes you beg for him to do it because he thinks you look cute on your knees so pouty

"my love, look at you getting all wet just from the sound of my voice. isn't that cute?"

his laugh!!

makes you laugh too even if nothing is funny

sends you long voice notes with how his day went or cuddles you on the couch while doing it

and you just sit and nod while listening, not saying a word

not because you're bored but because you love listening to the way he emphasizes certain words

type of boyfriend to send you a podcast of a debrief of his activities

he does it while coming back from missions even though his voice is so tired

and it just makes your heart skip a beat because it tingles your brain in the right spot

groggy morning voice, his accent all over the place, stumbling over his words because he got home late last night and barely slept

mumbles incoherent compliments? confessions? before you kiss him and make him get more rest

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish

literally pulls out the most Scottish sentence out of his ass

and you fold for some reason???

he's confused because he's used to Ghost telling him to speak English but you just nod along

you also ask him to translate because you don't understand

you pick up some of the phrases he likes to say and use them around your friends before you realize they won't understand

you try to decipher his accent sometimes

you either nod along even though you don't understand and hope you don't need the context

or you ask him to use less Scottish terminology/tone down his accent

you'd repeat certain phrases he says, out loud when doing random things

it melts his heart

he'd say the funniest joke ever and laugh at it for 10 minutes before realizing you didn't understand him

he explains it, you laugh because you don't want to hurt his feelings (it was a dad joke)

giggled a little the first time he talked dirty, you were flustered already and couldn't hold it back

you make him send you voice notes/ call you when you're masturbating now

his fucking pleasure tbh, has to hide from his team so they don't hear him spewing the filthiest shit known to man

someone caught him once, he said he was talking to his mom

Gaz is now confused as to why he would use 'cunt' in a conversation with his mom

starts saying his Scottish lover's speech and you mumble parts of it because you already know it by heart

you actually start saying it with him at some point

Kate Laswell

really concerned? but also not surprised that you have an accent/voice kink

like wdym call you 'her angel' again because you need to hear the way she says it

pulls out American mom slang on you

you call her mommy as a joke, it wasn't a joke

she catches on because it's not the first time you did it but doesn't say anything about it

understands people with heavy accents like almost perfectly

"i have to"

would pick up little words in your native language

you would also pick up her mom monologue

so when soap does something dumb and you start scolding him like Laswell would you're a little shocked

she'd be somewhere nearby and hear you, little proud smile on her lips

you have to explain whatever slang you're using to her

finally understands what gaz and soap say afterwards

i dont think she'd be big on dirty talk

so when it slips out once, you stare at her in confusion before processing her words

you beg her to do it more often

literally sitting on her lap while she does her paperwork (surprising that she even let you do that)

and you whisper sweet nothings in her ear, trying to convince her to take a break and relax

"come on, hun, you know I can't do that. people depend on me" in that cute concerned tone of hers <3 <3

pulls out the filthiest flirting tactics known to man when a little drunk

"how about you sit there and look pretty for me?" and you do

she pulls you in her car and fingers you until you're screaming while whispering about how cute you sound

it changes your brain chemistry

Farah Karim

disappointed but not surprised

she feeds into your kink thing just because she can

catches you staring in awe when she speaks in Arabic, finds it adorable

lowkey find the way she talks mesmerizing

like you can listen to her voice and watch the way she gesticulates for hours on end

has that leader/public speaker charisma to her that gets you hooked

barks orders at you because she forgets she's not on mission

apologizes immediately because you're her baby and she feels bad about it

also scolds you in Arabic before translating

bilingual queen chastises you in two languages because you did something dumb

but you die inside whenever she praises you

"my good girl, you did well" like yes ma'am, yes you did and you'll do it again if it means you can hear those words coming out of her mouth again

tries to do dirty talk but fails miserably (her face is too serious istg)

makes you un-horny not because it's that bad but because you're laughing so hard for like 10 minutes, you have to comfort her afterwards bc she's sulking not amused

you just weren't used to it

asks Alex for tips on how to improve (she's really sacrificing her dignity for you)

decided to use her new skills when you were close to climaxing because you'd probably be too dazed to care at that point

you weren't, you still remember her words to this day

you play back every single filthy thing she ever said when you masturbate

Alex Keller

our American boy™

you make him do the college bro accent

you both end up laughing on the floor because you joined in and made it funnier

pure chaos ensues

if you have an accent he'd look at you with the most lovestruck eyes

literally grinning ear to ear if you speak in your native language, this man is the biggest simp known to exist

wants to hear jokes in your native language even though they make no sense when translated

he can mimick some British slang/ can say some words in a British accent

you tell him to stick to his American English because he's hurting your ears

you mimick him lovingly when he uses really American phrases/ his accent becomes really white boy™ from the USA

he flirts in frat boy sometimes but it's Alex so you find it cute

another dirty talk champ!

like his voice is so smooth and soothing while he says it. his face is just unbothered, maybe a little smirk under his mustache

"such a sweet angel, already soaking for my dick, hm?"

insert ocean cosplay here

I feel like he'd mimick Siri and be on point

also reads you books while you try to sleep, his voice really does wonders whenever you have insomia

you make him record himself reading so you can listen to it on repeat while he's on duty

Valeria Garza

she figures it out in the first week of dating you

you still don't understand how she did it, you weren't that obvious

she said Chicago once (literally went feral over cartel mommy)

it plays on loop in your mind at random times and you have to ask her to say it again so it stops, she refuses sometimes just to see you suffer

you also copy her facial expressions and her gestures when you repeat something she says

lowkey impressed by how spot on you are, thinks of ways to use it for her own benefit

teaches you Spanish!!! she'd do it herself and give you hw while she's gone on business trips

she'd bend you over her lap and spank you for every question you got wrong

speaks whole dialogues with you in Spanish just to encourage you to learn, would not translate if you didn't understand (her lap looking hella empty rn)

so happy when you can finally understand most of her sentences but doesn't show it, just praises you

"Qué bonito... que bien ahí. Well done" (iykyk, I watch that scene religiously)

Spanglish all the way when she's fucking you

She'd just slide her strap in and degrade you

"Such a greedy slut for me. Aren't you, muñequita?" she wouldn't move until you confirmed it with words

"Eres una chica tan patética" (google translate pulls through until i actually learn Spanish)

she started arguing in Spanish with you at some point, you got wet

she had to stop when she noticed you were looking at her like that

Alejandro Vargas

literally frat boy flirting archetype

but he's so nice and you can't help giggling when he calls you those cute nicknames in Spanish

you start calling him Vaquero because really look at him, tell me he wouldn't be a ranch hand if he weren't in the military

spews out the most toe curling, smutty sentences in Spanish because he knows you don't understand

literally only does it so he can see your cute confused face

would also teach you Spanish

had a period of time when he would refuse to use English with you because you needed to learn

he stopped when you cried in frustration (literally lasted 3 hours)

big simp if you have an accent

just smiles while you talk and when you ask him why he just shrugs

learns random cute phrases in your first language and says them while you least expect it

you had to stop for a second and take it in before blushing

you sometimes share one singular multilingual braincell

when neither of you can remember the word in English or in any other language

the toaster is now officially the bread torch

figures out you have a thing for accents when you keep talking about how nice he sounds while speaking Spanish

it's being used against you

"Eres un cachorro tan guarro~

makes fun of you because you listen to his voice notes on repeat sometimes

he caught you doing it once and now he brings it up biweekly

Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra

my fav vaquero (sorry Alejandro) bc he's just so sweet

literally praises everything you do, bonus points if it's in Spanish

makes your heart beat so fast

if you get mad he'd wrap his arms around you while trying to calm you down

"Calma, bebé. Take it easy"

and it works? like the moment you hear his voice and his gentle words you're calm again

there's something tranquil about the way he says stuff

mostly uses Spanish right after waking up

gruffy voice + him whispering sweet nothings in your ear

and you understand most of it because he took his sweet time to teach you

corrects you in the sweetest way possible

so happy when you learned how to roll your Rs

begs you to say it again because it makes his heart flutter

soft dom who loves to praise you even if you're being a brat

"Ah mi princesita, you're being so cute right now. " while he's pinning you down and pressing kisses to your whole body

literally kills you with kindness

like you're really going to be a brat after he calls you all those sweet names???

literally giggling and moaning at the same time because you're flustered

like this man is really telling you he loves you while he's balls deep in you

struggles to learn your native language

powers through tho

stumbles on his words and you help him out (that cute boy smile on his face when he gets it right)

rarely yells but when he does...

he got mad at someone over the phone and you overheard him

changes your brain structure

and then he picks you up to complain about it, his annoyed voice literally fueling scenarios to your brain

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sofasoap · 2 years

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Little secret.

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader + 141 boys.

Summary: When Soap and Gaz found out something their captain been keeping a secret for a long time. and Ghost is amused. This is part of the "Mini" MacTavish universe, but the reader isn't " Mini".

Warning: M rated, swearing. Before anyone starts the debate, the age gap between Reader and Price is not huge. All consenting adults here. Also the flash back event was from quite a few years ago. So don't come argue with me thanks. You are responsible for your own media consumption , minors DNI.

A/N: This is what I call, when you can't find food, you create your own food. There's so many angsty Price fics out there I want this man to be happy.....

Character of Mini MacTavish is from @saltofmercury fic “ “The Favorite MacTavish” ” which she graciously let me borrow and write bit more expanded universe. Please go read her wonderful story to get bit of background

“masterlist” for more stories to this Mini MacTavish expanded verse.

" You met her before."

Soap and Gaz's mouth dropped open.

"When????"

"... At my wedding. His son was there too."

" OH WOW HOLD UP there's too much information to process here." Gaz push his seat back and holding both hands up.

Ghost, Soap and Gaz sitting in Price's office, waiting for him to come back for mission briefing. When the topic somehow turns to Price's love life.

" I never seen Price mention or seen anyone that he is interested in before." Soap mentioned

" .. You know he is married right?" Simon cuts in and drop the bombshell news.

" Not only at my wedding, you two seen her around the base few times too."

" WAIT WHAT??? how is that possible??"

The office door opens and Price came in with documents in his hand. Soap jump to the opportunity attacking Price with questions,

" HOW COME YOU NEVER TOLD US!?"

" Told you what?"

" That you are already married! and.. and have a child as well!"

Price throw the file onto his desk, eyeing Ghost silently, why did you tell them. Ghost just shrugged his shoulder and sip on his tea.

"I don't have to tell you every bits and pieces about my private life do I?" Price sigh.

" But.. "

" Shut up and let's start the meeting."

Price thought back to the day you two first met. Well, technically you seen him around the base few times, and when he comes into the infirmary, but you were never the ones to treat him, nor have you two ever interacted.

But secretly you always have eyes on him.

You were a rookie medic at that stage, and Price was already a big presence in SAS, you heard a lot of stories and his deeds on battlefield. People gossip about him, how he is still single is beyond everyone's believe.

"Bravo 6 to Watcher 1, I been compromised, taking fire."

" Roger, meet at the rendezvous point. Go!"

Price started running through the street, trying to throw off his chasers. Suddenly a pair of hand pulled him into the alley way and yank his head down into a kiss.

While still in shock he can faintly hear running footsteps getting closer.

"Don't turn around, They are heading the other way now but still too close." you whispered after breaking the kiss and quickly taking your scarf off and wrapping around his neck and remove his beanies.

".. Who are you." Price asked as he buried his face into the crook of neck. You shivered a bit when you feel his beard grazing against your skin.

" A rookie medic on holiday here."

" How do you know I am in danger."

" I saw Laswell before around the street, and you sitting in the cafe, put two and two together there must be a mission." You let out a breath. " They are gone now." You push him away a little. But he still kept his hold on you.

You were telling the truth. You are on your holiday in Amsterdam, visiting your high school friend who moved to Netherland after getting married. Today as your friend had something else on, you took the chance to do a bit of sightseeing yourself by strolling around the city. That's when you saw Laswell, trying to conceal herself by the street corner. She look at you and by instinct you knew she is here on business, not to compromise the mission you just kept walking.

Feeling cold, you saw a cafe further down the canal. Deciding to get a take away coffee so you can make yourself bit warmer, you spotted Price sitting just in the corner, turning his face away. You walked past him, order a cafe and went on your way.

A while later further down the street you vaguely hear the gunshot being fired, and Price running towards your direction. Without thinking you pulled him into the alley way and kissed him. You don't know why you did that.

" Bravo 6, do you copy."

" Watcher 1, I got extra package. Heading to rendezvous point now. "

" Sorry." You apologised.

Price sighed. " Let's get moving."

You got through the rest of your holiday without anymore drama. After you got back to the base, you couldn't forget the way he look at you after Laswell dropped you off in a safe spot before leaving. Price quietly thank you for your help, you can sense he wanted to say more, but stopped himself short.

You tell yourself he thinks nothing more of you other than a fellow soldier that helped him during the mission by pure chance.

.. Until he comes into the infirmary one day, with a dislocated shoulder.

You were the only one on duty. He wasn't surprised to see you, but you were. Bit flustered you ask him to sit down and check his injury.

"What were you doing??"

" Sparring with the new recruits."

" You should be more careful. Looks like an old recurrent injury too. You know how to pop it back yourself right?"

Price didn't respond. Even when you pop his shoulder back into the socket.

" .. Thank you." He quietly thanked your help again. just like he did in the car.

You wave him off. " Alright, don't do anything too strenuous for next few days. If any problem, come back to the med bay. "

Afterwards you often find him coming in with all sorts of injuries. very minor ones too. Your fellow medic starting to tease you;

"Our lovely Captain Price must have a crush on you. You should see his face last time when he came in while you were on leave. He look so disappointed that I was the one to treat him." They laughed.

" Don't be ridiculous." you scoffed. Price will never have feelings for you, a little rookie medic that isn't great on the battlefield and really contributes nothing on the grand scale, unlike them, heading out on counter terrorism missions, taking down cartels. But you do think it's odd he kept coming in for little things, as before he hardly turns up unless it's one of his fellow teammate escorting a.k.a force him to have some major injuries to be looked at.

One late evening, you were on night duty, while everyone else was either in bed or off on dates for Valentines day, you heard a knock on the door.

" Come in."

Price pop his head in , with two cups of coffee in hand.

" Oh. Um, Captain, what can I do for you? Are you hurt?"

" I am not disturbing you am I?" " No, I am just finish writing clinical notes from this morning. Come in. " He closed the door gently with his foot and approach the desk.

Putting the coffee down on the desk, he took a seat.

"Is that for me?" he nod his head once.

" Oh . thank you." You took a sip. Vienna style coffee. Just the way you like it.

He must have seen the surprise on your face. "... I asked your friend."

No wonder. You knew something was up when they begged you to swap the shift tonight. " Please... I got a date to go to! It's Valentines day.. and You got no plans that night right? sorry not trying to insult you. I promise I will return the favour next time if you need someone to change your shift...". Damn them , you cursed.

Face burning, you quietly sipping on the coffee.

"... are you free next weekend." He suddenly asked.

Raising eyebrow, " I can be.. Why?"

".... Can I take you out for dinner." he mumbled while hiding his face with the cup. You choked. IS he asking you out?

And the rest is history.

"So Captain , where does your.. wife work in the base?"

" None of your business."

" She's a medic in the infirmary." Ghost replied.

Price shot another death glance at Ghost.

" OHH, I must ask about her next time I go in. "

" Stay away from her you two. That's why I didn't want to tell people" he growled.

Ghost is secretly a shit stirrer. Mini gave him a gag gift one year that says " keep calm drink tea " for his ability to shit stir and watch the chaos unfold as he drinks tea.

Thank you for reading!!!

#captain price #captain john price #john price x you #john price x reader #john price x y/n #john price imagine #task force 141 #captain price x reader #price x reader

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thisfanisgonesorry · 8 months

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in sickness (and in flames) — john price

first you get hurt, and then there’s healing; its a process, believe me

tags: kyle “gaz” garrick mentioned, angst, hurt/comfort, injury resulting in chronic pain, ptsd, flashbacks and pov switches. -> fem!wife reader but also not really an x reader fic if that makes sense? just give her a chance;; 4.7k wc

a/n: this is self indulgent "fuck off and die" fic /lh (nerve dmg sucks) but might add more to it yet, who knows

💊

He laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, clenching and unclenching his fists periodically. The memory ingrained in his head as he ignored the figure looming over him.

Bullets whizzed past them as he barked orders, directing his soldiers through cover, to eventual evac. To safety. There were so many of them that there wasn’t time to stop and shoot, the only option was to run, sprint, hide, use cover to your advantage, don’t let them get to you. His orders filled the air and cackled over the radio as he demanded backup or some form of overwatch.

He stood in the doorway to a building, his ears ringing from the sudden outburst of violence, dust covering every position, impossible to see how many shooters were from any angle, he waved his arm, gesturing to them to rush from cover-to-cover. He kept a count of his soldiers, mumbling names and numbers under his breath. His fingers looped into the edge of their vests or backpacks like you would on the scruff of a dogs neck, heaving them into the room and pushing them past the doorway threshold as he counted.

Bravo 6-2 walked through the door and John sighed in relief, giving him a pat on the back, and he continued to lead them through the building, not giving himself a moment of repose. ‘Everyone made it to safety’ echoed in his thoughts, the only thing that mattered.

“Anyone hit?” His voice hoarse as he scanned the group. He was met with reassurance from them, everything and everyone was fine, maybe a few minor injuries, but they were okay. That’s the only thing that mattered.

He raised his hands, two fingers pointing upwards as he glanced, squinting through the dust before waving, rushing through. His mind was fogged, which he now kicked himself for. He wanted to rush this, get out as quickly as he could manage. But if he just took his time —

A loud thud as he fell to the ground, blood seeping through his uniform but his body numb and tingly. He patted himself down as he tried to figure out where he was shot but nothing, the blood was thick to cover its origin, and his eyes wide, his eyebrows knitted in focus, trying to clear his thoughts despite the heavy rain of gunfire surrounding him.

His men covered him quickly, trying to pull him to his feet, but a rough, barked. “Go!” filled the air, a demand of desertion that was swiftly ignored.

“Sir, we’re not leaving without you.” 6-2 spoke firm, picking up the fallen soldier quickly and heaving his arm over his shoulder. There was an unspoken glare between them, a silent argument. Though the soldier averted his gaze, taking his role as second in command immediately in stride.

John was silent, observing, uncontesting the willingness of his soldiers to save him. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe they’d truly leave him behind, but the quick thinking would earn some medals.

The hospital was worse than the battlefield. Half of his body was numb, though he sat there clenching and unclenching his fists, wriggling whatever part of his body could move. His voice was ragged from exhaustion, and rough from the lack of hydration. Despite knowing better, he just couldn’t bring himself to drink anything, or to eat. He simply laid there, fighting for control over his body.

The bullet was removed from his spine and laid next to him, covered in his dried blood that crusted the pristine silver, it laid idly in the metal tin, but John couldn’t help but glare at it like it offended him.

His body laid straight and flat on the hospice mattress to ease the spinal column. His eyes stayed glued to the roof, though his eyes failed him, and despite his instinct, he fought to look away from the offensive side-table.

He’d been hospitalised for weeks while the army did their last duty to support him. Nurses coming in and out to make sure he left in the best of conditions, though he couldn’t help but feel betrayed.

A letter of discharge sat on the table next to him, sided with a bottle of water and using the metal tin with the bullet as a paperweight. The victoria cross was placed formally on top of the discharge paper, gifted to him while he slept.

As weeks went on, small tidbits were left on his side table as farewells, as souvenirs, as gifts. It wasn’t long before the news of Captain John Price’s discharge made its way around the base.

His spine recovered quickly, no major damage — not paralysed permanently. Once he was able to sit up without insufferable pain, he analysed the few items that were left for him. He rattled the tin, staring down at the bullet and cursing it for changing the trajectory of his life. The paper insulted him slightly, and he dreaded the day where he’d have to sign it, he was putting it off as long as he could, doing his best to ignore it’s presence, but his time was nearing. He couldn’t stay in this infirmary forever.

The Victoria Cross, in all its glory. He picked it up carefully, treating it like it was fragile. It wasn’t his to discard. He analysed the soft red ribbon, running his calloused finger over it. Awarded for astounding bravery. He flipped it over, to find the date of such an event labelled on the centre of the cross, and one ‘Kyle Garrick’ engraved into the suspender bar.

“You’re lucky to even be able to walk.” Were words that made his eyes glaze over, and they were always met with a brisk, formal nod. How was he supposed to respond to that information? He was bombarded with information like that, how he was lucky to be able to walk, how he was so lucky that it didn’t do more damage than it did. How much luck would he have needed to not get hit at all?

So he laid there, staring up at the ceiling at the memory. Fists clenched and unclenched. “Honey?” Was called out from the dark, and he turned his head, sitting up briefly to see his darling wife. “Made you some tea.”

The glass was sat next to him and he stared up at me like he’d seen a saint. “I love you.” He spoke, like if he didn’t say it, then there would be no way for her to remember on her own. A chaste kiss, and a reassuring palm on the back of her waist was the physical touch that soothed his mind, though he continued to linger on the thoughts.

He was tired, beyond so, a permanent scowl hidden behind his outgrown beard, he’d neglected most forms of self care at this point in his life. He’d shaved it once — the day before he came home. He stood in front of the mirror for an hour just staring at his reflection, dreading what would come next, like it would be something bad until he forced himself into maintenance.

He walked up to the doorstep, his bag slung over his shoulder and the discharge paper firmly on his hand. He presented it like a child who just got an ‘F’ on their test, handing it to their disapproving mother that expected better. The look of shame that covered his face. The pleading in his eyes.

I carefully took the paper from his hands, confused by his expression before seeing the glaring sentences. ‘Certificate of discharge from active duty’ plastered across the top, as well as his name and neighbouring information. A mumbled ‘what?’ escaped my lips as I continued to skim, knowing few of the words, but wanting that extra confirmation.

‘Medical discharge’ stuck out awfully. There was information about the discharge scattered throughout the letter, something or other mentioning medical retirement and the permanent disability retirement list. “John, what’s this?” I asked, met with silence, the soldier continuing to stand tall. “What happened?” His heart sank, his reserve falling. God, did he feel selfish.

He walked into the large, oh-so-empty house, and he half-expected to get dragged by the ear. “Got shot.” He grumbled under his breath. “Don’t even know how it happened — it was all so fast.” His breath quickened, his heart racing at the shooting memory of the pain that slithered down his body before the numbness took hold.

I wrapped my arms around him, and he fell silent. The words stopped pouring and he slumped down, letting his large, strong arms wrap around the smaller torso, and he accepted the act of affection warmly despite the way his gut churned in disappointment in himself.

All that hard work, and for what? What did it even pay off for?

Weeks passed, and he struggled to cope with the knowledge that he’d never go back to work. The pension came in smoothly, he was given what was needed to live comfortably, they did their part to make sure he was well-cared for. Government wise or other. He was supplied for, and that left a tight feeling in his chest that he didn’t like.

He wasn’t disabled — not by a long shot. Not in his eyes. Though that fiery pain that starts in the heel of his foot and quickly strikes up his leg like lightning spoke otherwise, like an echo behind his voice that said the opposite of his words.

Once again, he laid in bed, the sheets kicked off his aching, touch-hot legs, though they stayed wrapped around his doting lover. Why wasn’t he able to support his wife the same way he did before? It twisted him up and spat him out.

“Love you.” Was mumbled into the flesh of his neck, and he gave a sharp exhale, sighing at the words and closing his eyes, basking in the moment. He held his breath when he thought about these things — holding his breath in hopes it eased the tightness in his chest. He let out a soft laugh. She noticed, of course she did.

His arms squeezed them closer together, the same way he used to. Not much had changed besides his body. The sudden ache in his muscles, the discomfort. The all-too-well known demotivation that came with upheavals of change. The only other thing that changed, a good change, was his lack of motif bred a healthy amount of weight gain.

‘Soft around the edges’ were the words of choice. They reverberated around his skull for a few days, and he sulked and sulked, unsure how he felt about it. Initially taking it as an insult before that consciousness in the back of his head reminded him that he was loved.

“Love you too.” He brooded.

“Stop thinking so much.” I hummed, letting it hang in the air the same way he hung his head in shame. He let out a gruff hum of approval, letting me know my words were heard, but he wasn’t happy to hear them.

He woke, stirring slightly and noticing the distinct emptiness in his arms that he’d grown familiar with, though it continued to be strange. His arms reached out, patting a side of the bed, before he picked himself up, opening his eyes to be met with the distinct *clink* of his cup of tea placed gently on the bedside table.

“Hate it when you do that.” Was his confession. He loathed the feeling of waking up alone, and it was salt in the wound to know that she did it for him. He always felt like it was his job to be the caretaker, the provider, so for it to suddenly be ripped away like that? It killed him. Anyone with half a mind would be incredulously grateful that their partner loves them enough to care for them back the same way, versus whatever Jennifer Tilly has going on the side. But for whatever reason, never John Price.

He wasn’t met with a response, just an affectionate smile as the day continued, not pausing for a moment, it never did anymore. He missed the closeness, the affections. More than anything, he missed the intimacy.

He was kicking himself for letting it affect the marriage, because of course it did — of course it would. He couldn’t believe himself. He managed to find someone so loving, so caring, so supportive, so radiant. So unbelievably perfect. His own bitter, brooding pushing away the one good thing he had left.

The only thing he felt that continued to function in his body correctly was his heart.

He gave a deep sigh, his hands tightly holding onto the side of the sink as he sat in the big house alone, oh; it felt so empty sometimes. His knuckles noticeably paler from how tight he held onto the sink, analysing his face.

He picked the sleep from his eyes and ran his hands over his beard, running his nails through the messy hair. The electric razor buzzed to life in his hands, he held it to his cheek and let it remove all the excess unkemptness.

A low growl rumbled through him, his hands struggling to respond to the actions his brain told him as he tried to trim his beard, the guard pressing into the fur and trimming it as it fell into the sink. The door behind him clicked, his arm tensed and the safe-guard failed, pressing deeper and a ball of fluff falling into the basin, a small bald patch forming on his cheek.

I apologised needlessly, assuming I was the distraction that caused the incident. “I’m sorry.” — I greeted him warmly, a reassuring touch, and he scowled, though there was no frustration; only disappointment. — He sucked his teeth, moving his jaw for easier access as he clean-shaved his face, leaving his cheeks bare and naked for the first time in years.

“Not your fault.” He responded gruffly, turning the razor off and swapping it between hands, shaking his dominant one briefly before going back to his actions. His cheeks were stubbled as he tried to keep it smooth, though he was heavily limited.

The razor was placed down on the side of the bench, and he rubbed the smooth skin, feeling the dull bristles over his fingers. It took him a moment, the person in the reflection looked nothing like him, it almost prompted a double take. He hadn’t looked this baby-faced in so long but it was welcome. Maybe even the change he needed. “I’m proud of you.” He froze, nodding with a thick swallow and slight gasp of air, almost like the words itself hurt more than a gunshot.

“Thank you.”

“It looks nice.” I whispered, my palm on his strong, muscled back. “You look nice.”

He leant into the touch, his shoulders relaxing and his body untensing at the reassurance. I rested my chin on his shoulder, and ran my hands up and down his arms, taking in his beauty. He was tired, and the conversation felt like a stab in the chest. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He grumbled, shuffling from foot to foot, rolling his shoulders as a slight innuendo that he didn’t want me touching him, and the conversation ended there. His words were terse — and I pulled away slowly at his actions.

He turned to me hesitantly, breaking eye contact with his own reflection, a million untamed thoughts running through his head. “I love you.” He reassured, a soft kiss on my forehead, feeling the stubble scratch me slightly, his nose pressing into my hairline, a firm hand on my shoulder as a vague form of affection like he did to his soldiers, the ones that he misses so dearly.

The sound of dishes clinking into the sink filled the kitchen. “I’m sorry.” He spoke with his chest, all puffed like a scared animal trying to survive against a predator. The tall, strong ex-soldier was now acting like nothing more than prey. “For everything. For.. All of it.” He struggled on his words with a sigh.

“What? You didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t.” He commented, his voice low like it was a warning. “Don’t try and act like it’s nothing and don’t—” His words caught in his throat. “Don’t think you have to take care of me.”

The silence was overwhelming, consuming the room and filling the air like a noxious gas. What was I meant to say to that? I shook my head, wordless, unblinking, unmoving, unbreathing. My mouth fell open to speak, though I pressed it into a thin line, keeping myself quiet. What do I say? He noticed the awkwardness, and sighed once again.

“Didn’t mean it like that.” He admitted, the roughness to his voice like gravel, like a man who hadn’t slept in days, lying awake, memories haunting him and the rigid words he planned to say to his doting lover filling his senses, but now he was here saying them it was fleeting. “You know what I meant, just..”

“John.”

“I know that this can’t be easy for you—”

“Like it’s easy for you?” I quickly retorted and he fell silent, his eyes staring through me as his mind lingered on the next argument for him to make. Though it seemed every argument he made quickly fell to an impasse.

“You shouldn’t have to take care of me.” “I’m your wife, I’m doing what I’ve always done.”

“I should be the one supporting you.” “You’re still getting paid, aren’t you?”

“What kind of man gets like this?” “A man that gets shot in the spine, and should count his blessings that he can still walk.” “I should’ve done a better job.” “You could’ve done better by telling me you were hospitalised.”

The room fell silent after the last dry, airy comment. He felt like he’d been shot all over again. “Look.. I’m sorry for that.” He said earnestly. A pause, a beat. “I don’t think that this is what you signed up for.”

“What about ‘in sickness and in health’?” Another silence, another pause, another beat. The air felt humid, sticky with tension, like a bead of sweat could roll down the side of his forehead, down his temple and slick onto the now bare-faced man.

“Don’t twist my words.”

“I know what I signed up for.” And the argument ended there. His stomach twisted up, why was he doing this? He was once again chewing himself up. Why was he pushing everything away? Why couldn’t he just get over it.

His thoughts scurried as he sat alone, dwindling on the minor argument, a common sight now. Why did he do that? How can such a tiny piece of lead do so much damage? How can it rewire his entire life? How can it rewire his brain? He dreaded the thoughts that always came next — is he selfish for wishing it took it instead? It was never a thought that he meant. Never truly, earnestly something he meant.

He was lonely. It was obvious. He’d lost his job, all his friends and all of his connections. He loathed it, and he wanted anything to take up his time. He itched to distract himself, to move his mind away from the guilt. He was fighting and he hated it — so he walked.

Walking made his feet burn, his big and heavy combat boots never felt like such a burden. Weighing down his body as he trudged along. He continued to walk anyway, working his legs back into metaphorical shape. It was a struggle, a fight, and how he managed to do this every day of his life before was a distant memory.

The ex-soldier continued to brute force his way through the pain. He convinced himself that the pain was like a runners-high where if he pushed past it, there’d be a sudden burst of renewal, though it never came.

He pushed through the front door, heavy footsteps banging on the floor, a wince in each step. He had a tired frown, searching the house idly. He placed a bag of food on the bench, a sigh escaping his lips as he wrapped his arms around his beloved. “Darling..” His voice was gravelly from the sudden uptake of smoking and yelling. “Got us some food.” He tried to speak sweetly as a surrender, a statement that there was not an argument to be had.

“You’re done being a baby?” I mumbled and he let out a silent grunt of disapproval, though he took it in stride. A weak stride as his chin rested on my shoulder, his beard scratching my neck as he nuzzled slightly.

“Guess so.” He sighed, earning a nod. “‘S your favourite.” His eyes drooped, peaking at what kept my hands occupied. He tried to keep his attitude light, but all attempts of talking fell flat on its face. “C’mon, talk to me.”

I slinked out of his hold, turning to face him and he locked me into place, both hands holding the bench on either side of me, his tall figure looming over me dearly, the ghost of an embrace. “This is f’you.” I commented, handing him the cup of tea. Honey, herbs, tealeaves, sugar, milk. Spice, everything nice. He smiled, half-lidded eyes. “How was your walk?” He shrugged, he took the cup, and he was less domineering as he no longer trapped me between the counter and his large build.

“Good — and good.” He nodded, sipping the tea and gesturing to it with a short lift. He adored the new tea flavours, the variation between them. He was just a bland black breakfast type of guy, enforced by the lack of choice between being a military man and living alone with no desire to explore, but he can’t say he didn’t enjoy the list of flavours being thrown at him, too many to count or remember, but he knew most of them taste amazing, but he couldn’t distinguish if the love it was made with had something to do with it.

“And you? How are you?”

He licked his lips, excess tea wet on his moustache. “Suppose ‘m good.” His eyes were untelling, keeping all the secrets he’d ever seen in his life balled up in his pocket like a handkerchief, stained with the blood, sweat and tears of the memories, the ultimate grime that got stuck under his fingernails and buried into the crevices of his brain. He noticed the way he was being analysed, scanned by those knowing eyes. “Things should’ve been different.” He eventually grumbled, caving slightly at the all-too-intimidating stare of a lover wanting the truth.

“But they’re not.” Were the harsh words that responded to him, he knew better; it didn’t mean to come across like that but with all the lingering tension filling the air like dust mites, what was he to do but take it personally? “And there’s nothing you can do about it but move forward. You should know that.” I continued, trying to make my tone more gentle but failing.

“I do know that.” He said defensively, and there was a moment of silence as the tension peaked. Another argument loomed, and he coaxed himself into relaxing. “I’m just trying to get through it.” He explained. “I think if I just—”

“You’re pushing yourself.”

“That’s what I’ve always done.” He responded dumbly. “You gotta push through the—”

“Stop.” Cracked through the air like a whip, and he tensed, putting the tea down with a clink. “Pushing yourself is how this doesn’t get any better. You need to just relax, and get used to everything.”

“You know that’s not what I’m like.” He said back like a warning, though he caught his words between his fingers before they could be twisted. “And I know I’m not in the army anymore.”

“So why don’t you act like it instead of making everything worse?”

He cleared his throat, averting his gaze at the words that made his heart sink into his gut, like he could digest it at any second. “I don’t want to fight. I never want to fight you..” He said calmly and slowly despite his tense demeanour. His tone was low and cautious like he was talking to a cornered animal. He took a step back, hands raised in defence, physically moving away for space, trying to relieve the feeling of being trapped. “I want to eat dinner with you, ‘n’ watch a movie on the couch. Like we used to, yeah?”

Part of him felt that lingering doubt. Were these arguments just misguided, misplaced care like a child forgetting their toy? Or were they a symptom of a vacant husband that for once, is finally home, and is that too much?

He watched the awkward shuffles as the figure pushed past him, inspecting the bag like he was a liar, as if he didn’t actually get his wifes favourite food. The tension was unbelievably palpable, and he watched every move carefully. A short huff, and they met glances, and he had a knowing feeling in his chest.

“Can we just pretend everythin’s fine? This.. This is jus’ a rough patch, baby.” He spoke reassuringly, trying to calm the thick air but his words were calloused and rough like he didn’t fully believe them, like how the next reaction went would define the difference between truth and wishful thinking. “Look at me.” He said firmly, interrupting his degrading thoughts. “We’ll be okay. We’re okay.”

“Are you saying that for me or for yourself?” I commented, handing him his takeout dish, and an airy silence took us before he gave a light shrug, a soft smile. He took it briskly, almost curtly, and he reached to grab mine, holding both in his large hands then deftly moving around the kitchen, swinging around to avoid any flying bullets that could fire randomly from the argument.

“Does it matter?” He answered, happily carrying both of our meals over his head, knowing I wouldn’t be able to reach him and stop him until they were placed on the coffee table with a clink of the cutlery. His large hands looked comical, his small cup of tea in one hand and his other hand carrying everything else together.

I bit back all the sardonic grumbles, slumping down with a thud onto the couch, it creaked under his large figure and we shared an expecting glance, unspoken words were beyond audible.

“I want you to understand that I need to do what I’ve always done.” He brooded. He’d spent every other day of his life pushing himself to the limits, following orders, doing what he’s told, risking his life, everything that’s expected from a soldier. “It’s who I am.”

A silence, a distant sound of clicking of the remote skimming through the TV, trying to find some form of movie that’d fill the tremendously awkward silence. Click-click-click. What to watch, what to watch? What to relive the youth of the strained relationship? To pretend that everything is honestly, truly fine, just for a miniscule moment.

“I know this — change — is hard on you.”

There was a moment of eye contact, a look of pleading recognition, a want of his life back despite what was taken from him. A want flashed behind my eyes of simply wanting him to be grateful for what he still has, not for what he lost. There would always be that miscommunication and he knew that it would always be a critical language barrier.

“I love you.” He reminded me like there’d be no tomorrow. Like all these temporary problems would all pile up and result into one permanent landslide of a solution, something drastic, something he dared not even mention or think or say aloud, nor spell in his mind with fear of accidentally jinxing his life.

A sigh escaped my lips, and I understood, of course I did, but was this argument even worth it anymore if it created nothing but incessant guilt and paranoia? The TV flashed to life, the movie was selected as he tried to move onwards, away from the taut past. The intro sequence played out slowly, the music quiet and low in the apartment air like white noise.

“John.. It’ll get better, you know?”

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raffe156 · 2 years

Text

Between a rock and a hard place

Just gonna go for it an post what I’ve written haha!

I’ve done my best with spelling an if you lot like it let me know I have a plot for this I promise 🤣

Feedback welcome 💖

Stake out

Pairing - Price X Reader X Ghost

Summary - MI6 agent handler/ field agent is on a stake out recon mission with the one and only Captain John Price, who she has had dealings with back when she was in training - they are holed up in dingy hotel in Mexico - Tensions rise and it gets heated between the two in more ways than one - Bravo 6 didn’t go dark - Ghost enjoys the show.

Warnings - Smut (18+) consensual non con, Voyeurism, Language, Age gap Price (47) reader (28) Dom!Price, Brat!Reader, comms not closed, Sir kink, praise kink, Degradation kink, Spitting, fingering, double penetration implied, Hair pulling, Oral (M + F receiving), Smoking, spanking, mentions of younger reader (Nothing too bad)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Call of duty characters

Mexico City 01:00am

You lay on the poor excuse of a bed looking up at the damp ceiling of the dingy hotel your were camped out in counting the spots of mould and wondering how on earth you had ended up on a recon mission with the 141 in Mexico. Not only that but you were holed up with Captain John Price of all people.

Ghost and Soap where set up in the apartments facing your room only a few feet keeping your balconies from joining, but due to your ranking you had to be supervised and your boss didn’t trust any of the other men alone with you that an she knew you could be hot headed and you liked to talk back.

You and Price had met before years back when you were in the academy at just 17 you thought you had it all brains, wit, charm, but your bad attitude held you back. The training base was occupied briefly by the 141 - Price was often asked to consult on some of the training scenarios as always you thought you had it all figured out which always resulted with Price in your face gun fingers to your temple “Bang your dead - your inside man is dead, Mission failed (Y/L/N)” he seen how cocky you where and he hated it, you felt he wanted to tear you down from the start. But despite all the nay sayers you graduated and was now one of the top Agent handlers and SIS agents in your age group albeit revered as a back talker.

So when you got the summons for this mission you where filled with dread when His name was read out in the brief. “Ma’am surely I can do the recon on my own, I’ve proven myself before..I don’t need a babysitter” you forgot yourself and was bluntly corrected by your Chief.

So here you were day 2 and you already wanted the mission to be over, you were broken out of your dismal day dream to the crackle of the comms in your ear - it was Soap - “Captain, question?”

“What is it Soap?“- Price said taking a drag of his ever present cigar.

“What’s the going rate for babysitting these days?“- Soap asked.

You rolled your eyes and looked over at Price, who was already glaring at you from the busted couch.

“Think your funny McTavish? Well ill tell you what it ain’t nearly enough” - He said exhaling thick smoke that clouded his face.

“I’m more than happy to take over Captain, think I could teach her a thing or two send her over here”- Ghost chimed in.

Price stood up laughing an walked over to the open balcony - he was in civilian clothes, still cargo pants and t-shirt but not his usual cargo pants, bullet vest and Boonie hat. He placed his hand above to lean on the frame and looked down on to the busy street below.

“I’m sure you could Ghost, but if you remember correctly this one could do with a muzzle and a firm hand, serious discipline issue I’m telling you”- he said as he dipped his head under his arm to look over at you, you noticed he was smirking you could just make it out under his thick facial hair.

Your blood was boiling and he knew it he could see it on your face. He was enjoying this.

“I can work with that, I like a challenge you know me guv I reckon I could get her in line” - Ghost taunted you.

“I know you do Mate, I know you do”- Price shook his head and laughed.

They were mocking you , talking about you as if you weren’t even there how dare they. Your heckles where up now and you needed to say something or else they would keep talking about you like a silly little girl.

“You wouldn’t know where to start Riley” - You spat as you sat up adjusting the stupid sundress you had to wear to blend in an look like a tourist, you looked out into the pitch black room a facing yours hoping he was in there.

Price looked at you stunned by your clear disobedience by calling Ghost by his surname.You’d done it now.

“Ohh I can assure you I would, in fact I could name a few places I would start with…” - Ghost was cut off by Price.

“Easy Ghost……Honestly (Y/L/N) your lucky you were barely legal at that academy or else I would have put you over my knee and shown your arse my palm an I’m sure Ghost wouldn’t of minded given me a helping hand with that would you mate?” -He said this while relighting his cigar.

“I would of been more than happy to help teach her a lesson Captain” - Ghost growled down the comms line in your ear making it feel like he was right behind you.

“Listen darling, your not cut out for this world, your mouth gets you into far too much trouble” - Price was stood in the middle of the room.

You were furious you skin was alight, but something was stirring in your core the thought of their hands on you Teaching you a lesson it pulled on something deep with you and that scared you, but they had pushed you too far now.

“You know what Price…Fuck you, I’m tired of taking your shit, talking to me like I’m playing special agent…I Am a fucking special agent the best in her fucking field and don’t you forget that you old fuck! And as for you Riley…” - you turned to look out over at the adjacent apartment where you knew Ghost was posted you could just make out the White of his signature skull mask in the shadow of the darkened room.

“Get a grip and take the fucking mask off did no one tell you its only halloween once a year you muppet” - You where on a roll now, on fire, unaware Price had made his way over to you in two strides.

The next thing you knew you were slammed up by your throat and pushed onto the bedside table back pushed right up to the wall. Price blew smoke out of his nose which was inches away from your own. You tried to focus and take in what had just happened but his face was too close. You then realise his grip was getting tighter around your neck, but that wasn’t what concerned you it was his right hand that had a good grip of the top of your thigh, he slid his thumb under the thin fabric of your underwear finding you soaked. He looked down and chuckled.

“That shut you up didn’t it love?” - He pulled his thumb back out and released his grip of your throat. Stepping back he sucked your wetness of his thumb.

“You where right Ghost……tastes just like Honey” - Price smirked dropping his arms either side of him.

“Told yah…” - Ghost sighed.

You were in utter shock at not only what had just took place but also how wet you were. The loud street below snapped you out of your daze and you became embarrassingly aware that Soap may of seen what happened but you knew Ghost definitely witnessed it. For a split second you thought when had they discussed how you might taste?

Price was staring at you his eyes fixed on your every move, you were going nowhere unless he said so. He turned around an placed his cigar in an ash tray on the side board.

“Now be a good girl and come ere” - He motioned you with his hand.

But when you didn’t move he bounded over and grabbed you by the back of your neck marching you over to the couch.

“On your knees……NOW!” - He shouted shoving you down in front of the couch he placed himself in front of you, unbuckling his belt and shimming his pants down just past his hips, you could see how hard he was behind his tight boxers.

“Now are you going to be a good girl?” - He asked caressing you cheek. You looked up at him and turned to look over to where Soap and Ghost were, you caught a glimpse of movement in the dark Ghost was shifting about. You knew he was watching you, Fuck it you thought lets give him a show. You looked up at Price and nodded.

“Yes sir” - you whispered look up from under you lashes.

This took Price by surprise he thought he was going to have to work a lot harder to get you to submit, but he was taking your sudden obedience with a pinch of salt he knew you had more fight in you, but he was going to put you in your place either way.

“Sir?……I like that, Good girl, now open your mouth” - he said waiting for you to do as you were instructed. Once your mouth was open enough he gripped your jaw and placed his thumb on your tongue holding it down. With his other hand he pulled his cock out, it was thick and panic flashed across your face, Price noticed the fear in your eyes and it made his cock twitch with excitement.

“Head back now” - He tilted you head back thumb still on your tongue with was writhing around causing something in him to stir wildly. He leaned down slightly and spat in your mouth making it even wetter, you felt your underwear become slick and you pushed you thighs tight together. He slowly guided his cock into your mouth, you felt it hit the back of your throat and tried not to gag, but the tears that welled up gave you away. Price sighed deeply and grabbed a fist full of your hair and slammed in and out of your mouth.

“Bit too much princess?”- He said slowing his movement down. He pulled out leaving a string of saliva and pre cum from his tip to your tongue.

“Let’s give the lads a better look at you eh?” - Price moved you by your hair still on your knees he faced you towards the open balcony doors. He pulled the front of your dress down exposing your breasts your nipples going hard in the night air.Price whistled.

“Knickers but no bra? You are a naughty girl aren't you (Y/L/N)? It’s like you wanted this eh? What do you think lads? Wanna see more?” - Price gestures into the darkness.

“I canny see shit Captain!” - Soap tutted, meaning he wasn’t in the same room as Ghost. He must be in the apartment above.

“Tough shit Sargent” Ghost said mocking his team mate.

“I’m coming down to your spot LT” - Soap barked.

“No your fucking not! Stay fucking put McTavish…If you step foot in this room i'll put a bullet right between your eyes”-Ghost warned the lower ranked man.

“Fine but if I can’t have a visual I want audio” - Soap hissed down the comms, you heard the sound of a zipper and Velcro being pull apart.

Price yanked your head back,

“See how much you’ve work your Lieutenant up? he’s willing to kill his own men for his own private show” -Price whispered in your ear.

Price let the fist full of your hair go and stepped back to admire you.

“Stay there” - he said walking round the back of you. Price settle himself in the arm chair that faced the Balcony doors.

“Stand up (Y/L/N)” He said grabbing his cock in his hand. You did as you were told, you felt the familiar slickness of your thighs. You tried to cover yourself up the night air was biting at your breasts painfully.

“Don’t you dare…” - Ghost warned over the comms. You could almost see him you had to strain your eyes ,but you saw him he was sat in a chair a few feet away from the open balcony he had his pants down slightly and was slowly tugging at his own girth.

“Take yah knickers off and toss em over here…And don’t you dare try to cover yourself up” - Ghost gave you your task.

You looked behind you at Price who nodded you on. You got up from your knees, you hitched your dress up and made a show of pulling your knickers down bending over to give Price the best view. You knew he was enjoying it as you heard him let out a quiet “fuck” as he jerked himself that little bit faster. You stepped out of them slowly. Bunching them up in your hand, you walked out onto the balcony. The rising heat from the busy street below warmed you a little, but you were still 10 stories up so the wind was brisk and sharp on your exposed wet area. You leaned right over the balcony and threw your knickers over arm into Ghosts apartment. Up this close you could see more of him he had lifted his ski mask up over his nose and mouth. He caught your underwear with his free hand wrapping the thin fabric round his member tightly and resumed pumping away.

“Nice one, but word of advice?…always watch your 6 kid” - Ghost smiled the first real smile you had ever seen from him.

Watch my 6? You thought then it made sense as Price yanked you head back with his right hand and gripped your hips back into him with his left. You could feel him leaving scratchy kissed down your neck. You core was on fire. He moved his left hand round to your wet slit and slid his middle two fingers in and curled them up inside you. You let out a moan, the gushing sound was obscene. Price worked his fingers deeper into you making you cry out louder. He bent you over and you gripped the rail for support he was still working his fingers inside you.

“Ok I can defiantly see now Captain” - Soap was looking down from his vantage point. Price knelt down and buried his face into you, you felt his beard roughly grazing you inner thigh as his tongue went to work. You held onto the rail for dear life you legs shaking.

“I think she’s enjoying that Price, looks like she’s gonna cum…” - Ghost said. He was right you was on the edge of exploding, But then Price stop and got up an walked back into the room. You caught your breath and looked up at Ghost who simply nodded towards the room, you turned and found Price sat back in the armchair stroking his cock.

“Did you really think I was just gonna let you cum like that? Nooo……your gonna have to work for it darlin” - Price laughed.

“For fuck sake Captain…cant you just fuck her out here where I can fucking see!” - Soap was fuming he was back to only audio over the comms.

You started to walk back into the room when Price whistled.

“On your hands and knees like a good little bitch…give Soap something to visualise” - Price took a drag from his cigar.

You got down on your hands and knees you could feel the heat from day in the tiles on the floor, you began to crawl in towards Price. The carpet in the room was scratchy on your palms and knees you looked up at Price a cloud of cigar smoke billowed around him, he patted his his shin like you would to beckon over a pet, You sat in front of him on your knees. He leaned forward and pulled you closer so your face was in his lap his cock nearly hitting you in the face. You felt your core stir you gripped it with both hands and ran your tongue up his shaft and over the tip. He ran his hand through your hair as your head bobbed up an down taking him as deep as you could pausing just before it hit the back of your throat.

“You’ve done this before haven’t you girl…Bet this is how the boys down at the academy got you to shut up” - Price smirked as he bucked his hips up causing his tip to hit the back of your throat, you gagged but it only seemed to spur him on more as he was now moving you head for you faster than before on the last stroke he held your head down on him so that your mouth was at the base of his cock. You slapped his thigh fearing you would black out from lack of oxygen. He grinned then released your head from his grip. You came off gasping for breath like you had been held under water. He took a last drag of his cigar an set it down in an ashtray beside him and patted his thigh.

“Up you get sweetheart…back to me” - He said as he pulled his pants further down. You got up from the floor your dress that was bunch up around your waist now fell back down and covered your modesty somewhat.

“For fuck sake…rip that fucking dress of her Price!” -Ghost was barking down you ear on the comms. Price leaned forward and ripped the dress right down the middle. You really had nothing now. He tossed it to one side and patted his thighs once again. You took a seat, your back flush to his chest you could feel his cock lined up along your arse cheeks. He put his hands under your knees an lifted you up so his cock was under you now, bracing your self on the arms of the chair.

“Look at me Princess…” -Ghost said breathing hard. You looked over to meet Ghost just as Price lined himself up with your entrance, he slid in and you shut your eyes tight he filled you right up and he wasn’t even half way.

“Eyes on me (Y/F/N)” - Ghost was warning you. You tried to look over but Price pushed in further making it past his widest point.

“Fuckin hellll mate, she’s tight as” Price was amazed at your handling of his dick. You were a tight glove indeed, but he would make you fit him perfectly. Your breath hitched up and you couldn’t help let out a moan as you tried to keep eye contact with Ghost who was now shamelessly wanking himself off to his Captain fucking you with your knickers constricted around his cock.

“I think you like being watched? Love being the centre of attention all eyes on you eh?” - Price bit your shoulder as he picked up the paced. He was right, you did so you decided to let go and give them a show. The moans that escaped you were loud and wild. Price was thrusting up into you making your tits bounce, You were going to lose it your head fell back onto his shoulder.

“Ahh…Did I say you could look away from me?…” - Ghost was on the edge you could here it. You opened your eyes to glance over at his, you could make him out furiously tugging away at his member. Price lowered your legs and gripped your breast with his rough hands planting wet kissed down your neck, you placed you hands on to his arms for support and started rolling your hips down on to his chasing your orgasm, Price knew what you were doing so he removed one hand from your chest and started to rub your clit hard.

“That’s it (Y/L/N) cum…cum on your Captains cock…while your Lieutenant watches…cum now!” - Price said through gritted teeth.

This made you snap and come undone.

“OHHH FUCK!! AHHHHHHH” you came hard.

“Oh fuck…Ah ah ah” - you where still being fucked, price turned your head and kissed you deeply, you moaned in his mouth.

“I want you to cum inside me Captain” - You moaned as his tongue left your mouth. He looked you dead in the eye.

“Ask me…nicely and beg me to cum in you…” - the look in his eyes was wild and like nothing you’d see before.

“Please Sir…I want your cum in me…please cum in me…while my Lieutenant watches…please Sir” - You moaned your second orgasm building up. Price grinned and looped his arm around your waist standing up, his cock still buried inside you. He knelt down on his knees bending you over in front of him, his pelvis never leaving you opening.

“Face down…arse up in the air” -Price breathed heavy, he slid his rough hand down your back and push down between your shoulder blades making you obey. You placed your arms either side of you bent as you shoulders hit the floor, face to the side you could still see Ghost he had moved closer to the open balcony.

“Fucking ruin her Captain…” - Soap was out of breath chasing his own release. Price gripped you arse and and landed a heavy hand on your cheeks, you felt the heat on your skin instantly. He watched at his cock slid in and out now with little to no resistance. He spread your arse and rested his thumb on your arsehole. You were drooling, eyes in the back of your head. What would your Boss think if she seen you like this? Lucky girl? Price was splitting you in half, the slapping sound as his hips connected with your arse was electric. Price slipped his thumb in your arse.

“FUCK ME! Shame your over there Ghost looks like she could of took us both…fucking naughty girl aren’t you?” - Price slapped your arse again.

“Look at me (Y/L/N)…would you have liked that? This cock in your arse filling you up while Price fucks your pussy?” - Ghost was at his limit.

“……ah……Ye…yesssss…” - You couldn’t even speak the though of both of them at once was enough to tip you over the edge.

“Yes what?…” - Price pulled you up by your elbow, your back flat to his chest again, him still rutting up into you relentlessly but sloppy he was close, one arm wrapped up around you with his hand on your throat, the other wrap around you waist so you couldn’t squirm away.

“Ye…yessss…SIR!” - You moaned your pussy pulsating around him as you came. You heard Ghost let out a gritted fuck through his teeth on the comms. You could feel Prices cock swell inside as he grunted in your ear, his cum hot in you his thrusts slowing. You heard Ghost pant. Soap was silent. Price let you go but still keeping and arm round you so you didn’t fall flat on your face. You could feel his cum leaking out of you onto the floor. Price leant back bringing you with him , you didn’t resit. He wrapped is big arm around you and brushed your hair out of your face with the other as you settle under his chin, kissing the top of your head he smiled.

“Now?…are you going to behave and be a good girl for me?” - He whispered into your hair. You thought about it for a while before your turned to look up at him.

“Yes sir…ill be a good girl for you” - you said as you looked over at were Ghost was…but he wasn’t there.

🚬 💀

#captain price #captain john price #captain john price x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #call of duty modern warfare #simon riley x reader #smut #john price #absolute filth #hot daddy #soap #ghost smut #cod mw #fanfic #fem!reader #cod smut #first time writing

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hihhasotherfixations · 1 year

Text

Nightmares - Price x Reader | Part 1

So, I decided to stop trying to make every piece of writing I do perfect before I post it. So here is this :3

This part is a little silly, next part will be angstier

CW: slight angst, graphic nightmare, fem reader though you make no appearance in this part

Part 1 | Part 2

Word Count: 7875

Exhausted and bloody, the 141 walked into the cave while the storm raged behind them.

Rain pelted from the sky, obscuring view and covering everything in a curtain of water. Boots, clothing and rifles, everything was drenched as the Task Force trudged into the hollowed out rock.

“Go on, get deeper inside.” Price huffed, waiting at the entrance and letting his whole team pass him, silently counting heads as he did. The task force had after all grown a bit from the usual three men that shadowed him. An extra four now present with Farah, Alex, Rudy and Alejandro.

Once he was sure everyone was there, the SAS captain turned to them to see everyone standing around a little awkwardly.

“Go on, walk further.” He ordered, jostling Alex and Soap who were the farthest, now walking deeper into the cave. “Check if there’s no surprises in the back.”

“Price, what do we do?” Farah was the first to speak up, directly to the man’s right.

“We’re gonna sit here and wait for the storm to pass. I’ll radio Laswell in a bit to let her know we’ve found shelter. And then we can do nothing but wait.” He sent a small smile down at her as he spoke that.

“Sir?” Gaz asked, a little confused and Price turned to his sergeant.

“We have what we came here for. Proof of Shepherd’s involvement with Al-Qatala. Continuing to run will just exhaust us.”

“It’s as good a plan as any, amigo.” Alejandro spoke up, clapping Gaz on the shoulder and the Brit hummed.

“Get some rest.” Price then spoke, motioning for everybody to sit down while Soap and the former CIA-agent briefly swept the back of the cave, finding nothing.

Seeing his team listen, Price turned around, looking at the incessant rainfall in front of him; pouring down onto the earth and thankfully running down the slope of the hill the cave was situated on, away from the opening he was standing in front of.

“Bravo six to Watcher.”

“Send your traffic.”

“We’ve found a place to wait out the storm.” Right as he spoke that, lightning struck down, almost immediately followed by a thunderous bang; the storm truly right on top of them. “Waiting for exfill once it passes.”

“Copy, Bravo 6. Stay safe.”

“Always.”

With that, John released his radio and sighed softly, turning back into the cave and walking over to the rest while he pulled his rifle from his shoulder, leaning it against the cave wall to his right before sitting down with a groan.

“Getting old there, captain?” Gaz quipped as he watched the man and Price raised a brow at the sergeant across from him.

“Try backpacking the weight you all bring with you. You’ll be ‘old’ like me within three days.”

A chuckle swept through the cave at that and with it, the tension of the mission seemed to seep away.

Over the next hour or two, rations were shared and eaten while the storm continued to rage outside, the darkened day slowly turning into an even darker night.

Somewhere during that, Price had gotten up and walked a bit away to stare out of the entrance of the cave, staying on alert though he let his mind calmly wonder - relaxing with the steady beat of rain.

A shifting to his right made him turn to see Ghost moving to stand beside him. “Y’alright?” He asked the masked man, who hummed and nodded.

“Want me to take first watch tonight?” It was a simple question and the captain turned his head to look forward and out of the cave again, seemingly in contemplation before he turned back to his lieutenant.

“No, I’ll keep watch. You and the others get some rest for now.” Giving an encouraging nod as he spoke, Price dismissed his suggestion.

Briefly, Ghost seemed to hesitate before he gave a curt nod and turned to walk back deeper into the cave, leaving the man on his own, closer to the entrance.

Letting out a quiet, but deep breath, the man slowly shifted to sit down against the wall to his left.

Turned to look outside, he situated himself comfortably against the wall before reaching over to grab his rifle. With it securely in his lap, he glanced into the cave once more to see the guys and Farah laughing together, seated in a circle with Ghost recently rejoined.

A fond smile briefly tugged at his lips before he turned back to the sheet of rain, watching through it for possible hostile movement.

It was going to be a long night.

About an hour or two later, everyone was recently asleep while John still sat at his post, exhaustion nipping at his mind though he kept brushing it away.

The rain had not let up in the slightest while thunder continued to rumble - less violent than before but no less present.

Suddenly, all the way down the hill in the treeline, he spotted movement, making his brow furrow.

Ever so carefully, he raised his rifle, looking through the scope as he adjusted the dial, zooming in on the trees.

Far below, several men walked, small torches mounted on their guns as they swept the forest. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they were looking for the 141 and co.

Squinting his eyes slightly, Price kept his sights trained on the men, watching their every move as they clunkily searched the woods far below. From their movement and formation, it was clear that none really were experienced, putting the older man at relative ease.

While he had been about to wake up the others - or at least one or two - now he instead opted to shift onto one knee, keeping his sniper rifle up and simply monitoring.

There was no reason to compromise their hiding place simply to gun down some inexperienced boys. He might as well let the others get the good rest he knew he himself couldn’t get.

As he suspected, the soldiers out in the rain never once left the trees, staying beneath the slight shelter of the canopy and naively thinking there was nowhere for the 141 to run except through the forest.

It wasn’t for half an hour before every last soldier was gone from sight and Price sighed, lowering his gun.

Turning the scope back from its zoom, the man glanced through once more to check if everything was truly clear before he let himself lean back to sit against the wall to his left again.

Moving his neck side to side to loosen it up, Price sighed once more, the smallest of groans leaving him as his neck cracked a bit.

Blinking a few times, he glanced at his watch to see it was 00:30 in the morning. The mission had been gruelling and while the team had to get up at 3am to get to location in time - which was already bad - he had been working through the night, going over the mission and required paperwork. With that and him getting up very early the previous day, he was nearing the 44 hour mark without rest. And with it, his need for sleep was growing more steady by the minute.

Reaching into his shirt, the man dug around for a few seconds before he managed to grab onto what he was after. His dog tags.

Looking down at them, it wasn’t the two which held his personal information that he grabbed them for. No, it was the third one.

Fondly, he rubbed his thumb over the small metal plate, lightning striking somewhere in the forest, illuminating the cave and giving a brief visibility to the words engraved on it that he already knew by heart.

By hurricane, war or old age,

In life or death, I will be by your side

Unable to stop himself, the tiniest of fond smiles came onto his face as he reread the words.

It were your vows to him.

His wife who was waiting at home, holding out for him to return.

Rubbing the small metal plate again, that thought caused his smile to turn into a soft frown. You’d given this dog tag to him on your first wedding anniversary. A little something he could wear in lieu of a wedding ring whenever he was out on deployment, so that you could be by his side. By his heart even.

Still, the man often wondered why you waited for him. He wasn’t stupid. In his line of work, one mistake and he’d be gone. And yet you braved that risk and stress and not only dated him, but actually fell in love and married him.

Sitting here now in the cave, the storm rushing outside, thunder and lightning filling the sky, he wondered if there was an afterlife. And if there was and he got there, would the world be cruel enough to force him to watch you find out he was gone?

God, even sitting here now, exhausted, clammy in soaked gear and with no clue what the next few hours would bring, John couldn’t stop his mind from going to you. Your sweet frown if you found out about what he was thinking, your kind smile, your soft hands holding his face as you reassured him.

He was completely and utterly whipped.

It was the reason he’d been unable to stop himself from seeing you in the past. From asking you out on more dates. From asking to move in together. From asking you to marry him…

“What’ve you got there, captain?”

A voice startled him out of his thoughts and Price quickly closed his fist around the dog tags, hiding them as he looked up to see Kyle walking over, no longer resting in the sleeping pile.

“Sergeant.” He greeted, raising an eyebrow at the young man. “Why are you awake?”

Not saying anything, Gaz instead pointed at the dog tags still in his hand and Price rolled his eyes.

“That’s none of your business.” He grumbled, quickly sticking the chain back under his shirt and vest before looking up at his subordinate again. “So, why are you up?”

“Thought it was about time to switch watch, no?” Gaz smiled, now sitting down on the cave wall opposite to his captain.

Huffing out a dry chuckle, Price looked down at his watch; 0100. “It’s not exactly my time yet.”

“Sir, we’re with a lot more people, we can afford to take shorter watches now. Switch more often.” Gaz spoke, a little confused and Price briefly ran his tongue over his teeth.

“That’s true. But don’t worry about it, sergeant, I don’t mind.” He sent a brief yet not entirely convincing smile to Gaz, who frowned a bit. “I’d rather you all get sufficient sleep. We don’t know what’s waiting for us tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Gaz mumbled, slowly getting up - not entirely happy with that answer but not wanting to go against his superior. “Just wake me if you get tired, cap.”

“Will do. Now get your ass back in there.” Price huffed a chuckle as he pointed his thumb to the circle of sleeping bodies, Gaz smiling as well as he shook his head, walking over to his previous spot.

Watching the young man walk away, Price let out a subtle but deep breath, his relief seeping out with it. With it, he could feel his dog tags pressing against his chest, reminding him of exactly why he was doing this.

Nightmares.

Every night, without fail, he would get nightmares. The only thing that helped? You.

For some reason, his arms around you or vice versa was the only thing keeping them at bay. On base, the solution was a pillow with your smell. It felt childish, but resting his head on it or holding it worked the majority of the time.

It made it so that at home he had very little - almost a normal amount - of nightmares, at base, it was only 40% or so. But out in the field? Here? John knew that no matter what he did, his past would haunt him the moment he closed his eyes.

Experiencing them was one thing. Warped memories turning into something worse. But his main reason for staying awake came from the fact that he didn’t want to show that kind of vulnerability to the team.

He was their captain for goodness sake. The man telling them what to do while any stray bullet could be the end. He reigned over their life and death and he was fortunate enough that they all believed in him. Trusted him. But how could they trust him to make those decisions in the heat of battle when they knew he had bloody night terrors over it like a kid.

So instead of risking that, he opted to forego sleep when a situation such as this arose - where they were forced to sleep in the field.

Sighing softly, John shuffled again to bat away his sleepiness, settling in for a long night.

Ghost was the first to awaken. 6 in the morning sharp, the man slowly sat up, looking around the cave and taking in his surroundings, only to furrow his brows when he glanced to the opening and saw a familiar bucket hat sitting there.

Alarmed, he immediately got up, silently jogging over to the entrance of the cave to see his captain’s rifle propped up against the rock while the lone hat sat in the vacant spot.

Outside, the rain was hosing down, almost entirely obscuring vision and Ghost narrowed his eyes.

While the captain would usually never part from the item, Ghost recognised it for what it was; a silent signal.

The calm positioning of the hat paired with the rifle neatly leaned against the wall still - Price was letting the team know he’d be right back.

A signal that was decided upon with some chuckles in the meeting room, quite some time ago.

Still, Ghost knew whatever the captain had left for, it couldn’t be good. So, he moved.

Reaching down, the man grabbed the rifle with scope, bringing it up to his eye as he pushed the tip out through the waterfall of rain rolling from the top of the cave.

Squinting, he scanned around the area before quickly spotting a man standing in the field.

On the hill between the cave and the forest, he was walking around while the world slowly became lighter, even though the rain didn’t let up.

With the sun slowly rising and the sky turning from pitch black to a dark grey, Ghost scanned around. The man was still a ways down the hill to the right, but the further he walked, the closer he would get to realising the entrance of the cave.

Down below in the forest, more men walked and Ghost clenched his jaw a bit, his eyes hard set as his finger moved to the trigger. Shoot one and he’d alert the others, unless he could perfectly time it with one of the thunder strikes.

Just in that moment, lightning struck down and Ghost counted the seconds between the visual and audible thunder, measuring fifteen seconds. So the thunderstorm had moved by 5km in the entirety of the night.

Cocking his head a bit at that realisation - that it was in fact morning - Ghost flexed his hands, re-gripping the gun as he did another sweep for Price, waiting for the next thunderstrike.

Just as he was about to pull away and refocus on the slowly approaching target, a movement in the tall grass of the hill made him halt. Slowly, he moved the scope over to see a figure crouched, approaching his previous target at a creeping pace.

Keeping the rifle fixed on the body, Ghost reached up to his comms. “Price, come in. Is that you out there?”

There was a silence for a few seconds before Ghost saw the figure’s arm move up to his shoulder, a corresponding two statics sounding in his ear. It was Price, he couldn’t talk.

Relieved that he had located his captain, Ghost watched as the man snuck closer and closer to the unsuspecting target in the field, the rain covering any tracks Price would leave behind - though that wasn’t much already.

Barely a minute later, the lieutenant watched as Price jumped up behind the man, stabbing his knife straight into the target’s neck and dropping him like a sack of potatoes.

Chuckling softly at the stealth takedown, Ghost continued to keep watch while the captain was rummaging around with the body, he himself sweeping the forest to see if anyone else noticed what had gone down, keeping watch of his superior’s six.

Shortly after, Price made the slow but stealthy trek back up the hill, re-walking his previous path.

A second later, Price’s voice sounded in his ear. “Mornin’, Simon.”

“Morning, captain. Had a good time, did you?”

“It’s muddy and slippery, so no.” Right as the man said that, Ghost watched his foot slip down, a curse cut off from his comms as the captain had to let go of the button to instead catch himself. A chuckle escaped Ghost and he pulled back from the entrance, pulling the rifle up and setting it back against the wall.

Two minutes later, Price walked through the entrance of the cave, showered with the falling water rolling off the top of the opening, though it didn’t do much to make him more wet, given he was already soaked to the bone.

“Don’t even start.” Price sighed as he saw the amused glint in the masked man’s eyes, walking over and bending down to pick up his hat, dripping water everywhere.

“I didn’t say a thing.” Ghost hummed, watching as the man ruffled a hand through his hair, a desperate attempt to get some water out before he stuck his hat back on with a huff.

Humming a bit Price didn’t say anything as he instead rubbed at his eyes, groaning softly.

“Sir, why are you still awake.”

And there was the million dollar question Price knew was coming, a soft sigh leaving him as he pulled his hand away from his eyes. “Didn’t feel tired.” He sniffed pointedly to clear his airways, grabbing the rifle positioned against the wall after Ghost had used it and checking it over, just to be busy.

“Price-“

“Don’t worry, Simon. I’m used to a lot worse. Besides, you can take over watch now while I figure out how Al Qatala is doing.” With a sly smile, he clapped the lieutenant on the shoulder, holding up the comms he’d picked off the soldier he just killed.

Ghost opened his mouth to protest but instead held his tongue, sighing out as the captain handed him the rifle and already walked away, over to the others in the cave, some of which were slowly starting to wake up - the hour ingrained into their bodies, as well as the noise of the conversation making it so.

And thus, while Ghost sat down with a sigh, clutching Price’s rifle to look outside if he must, Price walked over and sat just outside the circle of bodies, cleaning the earpiece before sticking it into his right ear, waiting for anything to come through.

Running through the field, gun in hand, John was huffing. Out of breath and exhausted, all around him, gunfire and explosions sounded out, his head ducked in the hope it would make any bullet miss that vital spot.

With every step, his lungs burned. But if he could just get over the ridge, could just get past that barrier the enemy set up, he’d be fine.

His rifle was long gone, where or how he didn’t know, all he knew was that he was running.

“Price!”

Snapping his head to the right, John watched just in time to see one of his squad mates fall down, his foot stuck in barbed wire.

“Hang on!” Shouting that out, he came to a skidded stop before he ran back, rushing over. To the right, an explosion sounded and he jumped the last bit, sliding down the dirt to reach his fellow soldier. “I’ve got you.” He panted, taking hold of the barbed wire and immediately pulling. Yet as he did - inexplicably - instead of simply popping the sharp points free from fabric,

John pulled entire strips of flesh out of the man’s leg.

Screaming out in pain, the man clutched his leg and John let go in shock, unable to speak as his eyes were wide, looking at what he just did.

Roughly, his fellow soldier grabbed him by the front of his vest, pulling him in. “How could you?! Price, you-!” Whatever he was going to say was cut off as suddenly, a missile landed by the man’s foot, going off and blowing the top of his body to smithereens.

Blood, guts, insides. Everything was visible and John felt himself get covered in it. His breathing was panicky and he felt like vomiting, but still he couldn’t will his body to move, not even when the lower, lifeless half of the man’s body fell forward and into him, trapping him there completely as if he too was stuck in the barbed wire.

“Fuck!” Finally finding his voice, John cursed as he tried to push the dead remains off of himself, blood gurgling out of it and spilling even further onto him, soaking his uniform so severely he could feel it clinging onto every part of him, every movement now restricted by the clammy gear.

Struggling in vain, a noise then reached John’s ear and he snapped his eyes up to see a UAV rushing straight down, right at his face.

Shocking awake, John shot up, only for his head to smash into rock. “Fucking- jesus-!”

Cursing out, he grabbed hold of his head while those around startled at his sudden exclamation.

“Y’alright, captain?” Alex asked while he looked on as said man smacked the side of his fist into the overhang of rock he was beneath - a measly form of retaliation.

“I need to pick better spots to sit down.” The man grumbled, exhaustion nipping at him as his heart still hammered from the nightmare.

Tired and sore, with a new bump forming on his head in the near future, Price moved to stand up, cringing at the feel of his wet uniform, clinging to every part of him and making movement difficult.

That explained the feeling in his dream.

Grumpily, the man walked between the legs of his team and sat down next to Rudy, now the furthest into the cave.

“You would pick a better spot if you got some sleep.” Gaz spoke, replying to his earlier grumble.

“Don’t go there, sergeant.” Price sighed, exhausted and unwilling to fight it.

“You didn’t get any sleep?” Farah questioned, concern showing on her face, Soap joining in as he glanced between his captain and the spot the man had just jolted awake from.

For, as badly as Price hoped otherwise, in the fifteen minutes he’d fallen asleep for, he tossed and turned, alerting those around.

“It’s fine, I’m used to it.” Price waved it away, trying to will away the headache all this questioning was forming. Closing his eyes, he leaned back into the rock behind him, thinking over the nightmare.

Like usual, it had been a mix of real events and fabrications of his mind. He remembered that soldier. While trying to pull his foot free from the barbed wire, a small remote controlled missile had indeed been shot at them. Yet different from his dream, the soldier had pushed Price down the slope, saving his life.

It was a whole different kind of guilt to bear.

“You need sleep.”

Getting pulled back into the present at Soap’s concerned comment, Price raised an eyebrow. “I’m not a senior, you know. I’m barely any older than Alejandro.” He huffed, a little miffed. “You’re all well rested and I’ll survive.”

“You-“

Whatever Soap was gonna say next was cut off as Price suddenly sat up and held up his hand, his attention out of the conversation and focused to the sound coming from his earpiece. Recognising the look in his captain’s eye, Soap dutifully shut up, waiting while Price concentrated on the Arabic sounding in his ear.

“No sign of them, we’re retreating.” Price repeated the words, Farah and Alex perking up as they were the only others who could understand Arabic.

“What’s that mean?” Rudy asked and Price looked up at him.

“Means we’re in the clear for now. Let’s hope they won’t miss the soldier I took out until we’re long gone.”

“Laswell.” Price grunted as he nodded at the woman before him, cracking his neck a bit to get the stiffness out.

He’d just survived several hours in a helicopter back to base with the team.

“How did it go, John?” She asked while she watched the rest of the team hop out of the heli and walk down the tarmac in the distance, looking tired, wet and exhausted.

“Good in terms of mission objective. Bad for what said objective means for us.” The man sighed, reaching into his pocket and handing a usb to her. “If you don’t mind, my head is killing me.”

Frowning a bit in concern, she then saw the forming bruise on the man’s temple and nodded in understanding. It also wasn’t uncommon for him to get headaches after missions, given the stress put on him.

“Let me walk back with you.” She sent him a small smile and Price nodded. With that, the both of them walked towards the 141 barracks, sharing some occasional conversation.

Before long, they walked into the barracks to already see most of the team in loungewear, only those who cared enough to not let the tiredness win off to take a shower.

“Hey, Laswell.” Gaz greeted with a smile, which she returned.

“Good work out there, sergeant. Because of you all, we’re all one step closer. Thank you.” Laswell turned to the rest of the team lounging around with that, and Price couldn’t help the small quirk of his lips at the happy response from those present - an almost visible deflation seen in their bodies.

“Indeed, well done.” He hummed in agreement before being tapped on the arm.

“This is for you, by the way.” Looking down at Laswell, the woman was holding out a letter to him and Price hummed, taking it to inspect it, only to see a familiar handwriting stating his name. Briefly, he glanced at Laswell and she nodded with a little smile. “You know who from.”

“Got it. Thank you, Kate.” He hummed, briefly touching her upper arm in thanks before turning around. “See you all for supper.”

- - - -

“What was it you wanted to talk about?” Soap questioned, lounging on the couch together with Farah and Rudy.

About ten minutes ago, Gaz had called everyone into the living room and so now here they sat on all the couches and chairs.

Well- everyone minus one very specific person.

“Did any of you know the captain has a third dog tag?” Jumping straight into the topic, Gaz looked around to see everyone share some confused looks before all eyes turned back to him.

“What are you talking about, compadre?” Alejandro asked from the left, getting some agreeing hums from the others.

Understanding he needed to explain, Gaz moved to sit on the coffee table, in the middle and surrounded by the others on the couches. “So, two days ago, while we were in the cave? I woke up in the middle of the night to see Price sitting at the entrance, keeping watch.”

“Where he stayed all night until I took over.” Ghost rumbled, crossing his arms.

“Yeah.” Gaz pointed at him as if to say ‘just like that’ before continuing. “But the thing is, he was holding his dog tags and when I approached I noticed that third one specifically. He was looking at it with such concentration.”

“Where are you going with this?” Farah questioned, wondering why she even tried with all these boys.

“He was so entranced with it, he didn’t even hear or see me approaching.” Gaz clarified, his brows raising to define his words.

At that, both Soap and Alex perked up while Ghost tilted his head, all seeming a bit more intrigued.

“That’s unusual.” Soap spoke up, getting more into it and Gaz now pointed at him.

“Exactly. And he immediately hid it when he realised I was there.” Gaz pondered, glancing between his teammates with an excited glint in his eye. “I’m bored. I wanna find out what’s on that tag.”

And so, between the 141 and co, a silent pact was made.

The first attempt came from Gaz himself.

“What was that?” Price questioned as he was sat at his desk, papers spread around while his reading glasses were perched on his nose, his eyes now glancing over the square rim of them to look at Gaz.

The sergeant had been rambling off about something he hadn’t been able to follow, his mind still too engrossed in the text in front of him.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go swimming with all of us. You know, as a bonding experience.” Gaz smiled as he repeated himself, though something seemed off about it, making Price squint a bit in confusion.

“‘M afraid not, son. With Makarov and Shepherd on either side, I can’t really afford to take leisure time like that.” The captain sighed, holding up the paper he’d been holding in his left hand to emphasise.

“Are you sure?” The younger man tried, seeming to almost be pleading and Price chuckled.

“Quite positive. You boys go have fun.” With that, he shoo’ed Gaz out of his office and returned to slaving away over the paperwork, leaving the sergeant disappointed.

The second attempt came in the form of Soap, Alex and a dragged along Ghost.

“C’mon, go.” Soap shoved at Ghost, who sent a death glare back at the man, his hand threateningly raising to retaliate at the Scot. “Don’t hit me.” He quickly squeaked, ducking as he shielded his face and Ghost rolled his eyes, instead crossing his arms.

“Think this might be going a bit too far.” Alex murmured, not entirely sure of this plan as they stood outside the man’s room.

“I’ve made a bet with Alejandro, I’m not losing it now.” Soap responded, determined

“Your own fault for making a lousy bet.” Ghost huffed back, preferring to go to sleep over whatever Johnny was planning.

Narrowing his eyes at the masked man, Soap then turned back to the door instead, glancing up at the narrow sign bolted into the middle reading ‘J. Price’.

“Soap.” Alex tried, reaching out to stop the Scot but he simply swatted the former CIA-operative’s hand away, pointing at his face.

“Ah, ah, I am finding out before Gaz. I told you, I’m winning this bet.”

With those, words, he reached down to grab onto the door handle while Ghost facepalmed with a deep sigh, the muscles in his legs tensing to leave.

Yet right before either he or Soap could move into their actions, the door pulled open instead.

“What are you muppets up to?” A tired Price stood in the doorway and Soap immediately jumped back, his hand still stuck in position to grab the door handle - for which he quickly yanked the limb back.

“Captain! Surprised to see you awake at 1 in the morn’.” Smoothly covering his surprise at the man’s appearance, Soap smiled at his captain.

“Even if I were sleeping, no one can stay asleep with the racket you three were making.” Price grumbled as he tiredly rubbed at the bags under his eyes before passing a look over all three men. “So, what’s got you gathered at my door in the middle of the night?”

“Uh…” Soap swallowed softly, glancing to Ghost for help, only for the man to shove him forward a bit, a silent order to answer before he turned.

“Not my circus.” He grunted out as he began to walk away, but Soap was faster as he shot out and grabbed Ghost’s wrist, yanking him back.

“Actually! It was just- we were- it was a joke! We were gonna play a joke.” Soap blurted out after Alex poked him to hurry up.

Sighing tiredly, Price crossed his arms as he leaned into his doorway. “On me? All three of you. Including Ghost?”

“Ghost makes me feel safe, that’s why I brought him with us.” The Scot panicked, feeling said lieutenant attempt to pull his sleeve out of his hold, only for Soap to hold on extra tight, not wanting to be left alone now.

“Bloody hell.” Price groaned, hanging his head before lifting it and glaring at Soap, side-eyeing Alex who had been very quiet in the hope of avoiding any wrath. “Get to your blasted beds. If I see any of you here again, it’s toilet duty for a month.”

With that, Price stepped back and slammed his door in the faces of the three men.

Which left Soap to the mercy of Alex and Ghost.

- - - -

The final attempt came around dinner time.

It had been a week and a half since the last mission and a week and a half of trying to figure out the mystery dog tag.

Be it in the form of blatant ruses, attempting to sneak a peek during work-outs or in the communal shower room, none had been able to get anything.

Ghost and Farah had pointedly stated their refusal to participate, Rudy staying impartial though curious, while Alejandro merely had the bet with Soap.

Miraculously, they had been inconspicuous enough that Price didn’t seem to realise what was going on - or he was too busy being swamped with work to notice.

Right now, the 141 and company were gathered at the dinner table, just about finishing up while pleasant conversation flowed.

“Sooo, captain?” Gaz started in between, earning the notice of some of the others as he scooted his chair a little to the right, closer to where Price sat at the head of the table. “Your mother?”

Tilting his head, Price placed his cup down, looking a little puzzled at his sergeant. “What about her?”

“Father?”

Even more confused, Price turned his head right, looking at Soap who held a mischievous grin as he had seemed to butt in on the conversation. “My father?”

Yet the others at the table had now picked up on what was going on, Alex speaking up next. “A sibling?”

“What are you guys talking ab-“

“Any family member?” For the first time, Rudy participated as he spoke up, genuinely intrigued.

Yet all it did was make Price furrow his brows, completely lost in the conversation as his team seemed to pick on him one by one.

“Maybe a frie-“

“Could you TELL ME what you are talking about so that maybe I could give you a decent response?!” Price burst, splaying his hands wide as he interrupted Alejandro, glancing at Farah and Ghost for help given they seemed to be the only ones who didn’t seem to have lost their minds.

At his words, everyone shared a look, making Price’s irritation grow, given they were clearly all in on something he wasn’t.

Just then, Gaz shifted, earning him the ire stare of his superior. It didn’t deter him however, holding an almost boyish glint in his eyes. “The dog tag.” He spoke, the corner of his mouth lifted up as he pointed at Price’s chest.

Admittedly, it didn’t immediately click for him as the man reached for the chain around his neck, grabbing the tags and revealing the top one, showing one of his personal tags holding his information. Lack of sleep and the immense workload on him making his brain slower than he’d like.

Seeing it was the wrong one, Gaz good-naturedly rolled his eyes, pointing at the other two tags hidden in the man’s fist. “No- the other one.��

Blinking softly, everything fell into place for Price, his annoyed yet confused stare turning into one of realisation. “Oh, I see.”

At his words, those invested in the mystery perked up while Farah just looked disappointed, with Ghost deadpanning as he glanced around the table of idiots.

“You all really have nothing better to do?” Price questioned, one eyebrow pointedly raised as he looked around the table.

“We’re just curious, sir.” Soap grinned, leaning a bit more onto the table, eager.

“Stay curious.” With that, he pushed the chain back under his shirt, pushing out his chair as he got up with his plate and cup. “And given you all are bored it would seem, I’ll get something for you all to do.”

A groan instantly swept through those at the table as they knew what that meant, Soap getting a kick to the shin from Ghost while Farah roughly slapped Gaz’s upper arm - Alex receiving a punch to his on her other side.

- - - -

Standing on the sidelines with his arms crossed, Price held a stern face as he watched Soap and Gaz spar on the left while Farah had Alex in a headlock on the right.

Frantic, the blond tapped out on Farah’s thigh, about to be choked to death. Chuckling, the woman let him go and Alex rolled away from her, laying face down for a second.

“Well done, you two.” Price gruffly spoke, nodding in approval. “Farah won by a slight margin.”

“What about you, capitán?” Alejandro then spoke up as he stood besides the man.

Curious, Price turned his head to look at the colonel. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve never seen you fight hand-to-hand yet.”

Scratching his beard slightly, he hummed, thinking Alejandro’s words over before shrugging. It could never harm to know your allies’ capabilities. “Alright.” With that, he ushered Alex and Farah off the field, handing his hat to the Mexican colonel before taking his place in the grass and looking up. “Ghost, you feel like going a round?”

Wordlessly, the masked man complied, walking over to stand in front of his captain.

“Remember, no slapping or punching. This is purely a sparring match with the goal to pin the other.” Price repeated what he said for every match, even when he was about to fight his own.

“I’ll keep my hands close by.” Ghost spoke and the captain nodded, glancing at Alejandro who got the hint.

While the two in the grass got into defensive positions with arms raised, he stood forward. “Ready… go!”

Price was the first to move. With a surprisingly fast step, he got up in Ghost’s face before side-stepping to avoid his instinctual push-back.

Grabbing his wrist, the captain tried to pin it to his own back, but Ghost was faster as he turned around to get behind Price, prying his arm free and grabbing the man from behind.

Letting out a grunt from the impact, Price reached over his head to grab the back of Ghost’s vest, throwing all his body weight forward in a motion that sent the lieutenant flying over his shoulder.

Slamming onto his back in the grass, Ghost hadn’t let go of Price however, making the man fall to the ground with him, groaning.

Recovering faster than his captain, Ghost rolled over and grabbed hold of Price in a chokehold from behind - making sure not to actually choke him.

“Come on, Ghost, show the old man!” Soap’s cheering made both superiors on the ground glance up and glare at the sergeant, noticing the small crowd that had formed though neither let up in their fight.

Snaking his hand up, Price pried it under Ghost’s arm before pushing out, making the lieutenant lose his grip, now only holding Price down by the arm over his neck.

Price immediately took advantage of this and grabbed hold of said arm, pulling and pushing his body out at the same time, making Ghost grunt as he reached his free hand out to try and get his grip back, only managing to grab at the back of Price’s neck, holding onto the man’s shirt.

While the captain pulled away, Ghost felt something give underneath his hand - allowed only a second or so of confusion before Price twisted the arm pinning him back, forcing him to roll onto his side for which the brunet took advantage, getting underneath the masked man and practically bear-hugging him from behind.

Cursing, Ghost felt his left wrist being grabbed as Price tried to pin him, the man’s legs wrapping around his own to pin them down.

It was a good hold, though Ghost managed to pull the hand Price had pinned behind his back free, now able to use it to break the captain’s grip.

Struggling on the ground together, Price flung his arm over Ghost’s chest and grabbed hold of his own forearm, trying to keep hold and keep Ghost pinned on top of him while said man tried to pry his arm free.

“Captain! Captain Price!”

A sudden shouting brought everything to a halt and both men on the floor stopped their efforts as they instead looked to the right of the field to see a soldier running over, looking winded.

“Sir, I have some information from Colonel Norris.” He breathed, only now seeming to notice the annoyed looks he was getting from the entire team gathered around the grass.

They weren’t too happy to see the sparring match interrupted.

Untangling his limbs from Ghost, Price groaned as he nodded before letting his head fall back on the grass. “Be right with ya.”

With that, the soldier was forgotten as Ghost grunted while getting up. Rolling his shoulders a bit, he then turned to his captain still on the grass, sticking out his hand to help. “You held your own, old man.”

“You would have broken free. We’ll call it even.” Price smiled a bit as Ghost pulled him up before letting go and turning to the sergeant who had just rushed over. “Let’s head to my office.”

With a nod of goodbye to the team, Price accepted his hat back from Alejandro and placed it on his head before walking off with the soldier, brushing himself off a bit.

Yet while everyone deflated a bit, sweaty and happy to be done with the PT, Ghost bent down, picking up a small chain from the grass.

Dangling in his hand were his captain’s dog tags - all three glistening in the sunlight - and Ghost scoffed in amusement as he flipped them up to hold them properly in his fist.

He knew he’d felt something break underneath his hand.

- - - -

Walking into the mess hall in a frazzle, the 141 watched their captain walk around, eyes pointed at the floor, very obviously looking for something.

“Captain, over here!”

“Not now, Kyle.” Price dismissed, not even glancing up as he continued his search and Gaz shared an incredulous look with the others.

“No, captain, they’re here.” Farah was now the one to speak up and Price stopped in his tracks, looking up while his brows furrowed in confusion, seeing Farah beckon him over.

Everyone was gathered - which wasn’t too unusual for this time, but them standing around a singular table was.

Walking up, he got in between Farah and Rudy, only for his eyes to widen to what was laying in the middle of the table.

Without a second to spare, he snatched his tags up before glaring around at the circle. “What the bloody devil is the meaning of this?”

Anger very clearly simmered from his form and those around shifted a bit before Gaz stepped up.

“Look, sir, I know you know we’ve been trying to know what’s on your tags, but this was an accident.” The man spoke for the team, given it was his idea that got them all there anyways. “The chain broke during your sparring match with Ghost and he saw them lying in the grass while we all left and picked them up.”

There was a small silence as Price took in the sergeant’s words, giving him a scrutinising stare before he spoke up.

“But you all took a peek?”

At that, Gaz looked down for a second, shuffling a bit. “…Yes.”

Taking in a deep sigh, Price closed his eyes and rubbed at the back of his neck in an irritated manner before he let it all go with his exhale.

“They’re my wedding vows, you curious ingrates.”

At that, the entire world seemed to pause for the 141. “Your what?” Soap practically squeaked out while Price was checking over the break in the chain.

“Wedding vows, MacTavish. One speaks them while getting married.” He spoke dryly while not looking up.

“You’re married?” Gaz asked, his heart both jumping in elation and squeezing in hurt that the man had never spoken about something so important.

Hearing the tone of voice, Price finally looked up to see the conflict in Gaz and his eyes softened slightly.

“Why would you not tell us?”

“Same reason Alejandro won’t divulge where his family is. To keep her safe.” Price spoke, getting an understanding nod from both Alejandro and Rodolfo.

“What does she look like?” Alex spoke up after a small silence and Price looked at him, contemplating for a second before sighing once more as he realised there was no more going around it.

“Alright, hold your horses.” With that, he stepped back from the table and walked away, leaving those around curious.

A few minutes later, Price returned and handed a singular photograph to Farah to pass around.

It was one of his favourite pictures with you. In it, the two of you were on a boat, sun shining down while you hug your husband from behind, your cheek squished to his while you smiled so bright.

Once it came to Ghost, he glanced at the picture before flipping it around, seeing a few words jotted down in pen. ‘Honeymoon 2017’.

“You’ve been married for six years?” He asked and Price scratched the back of his head.

“Seven. I unexpectedly got called in for deployment shortly after our wedding.”

“Steamin’ jesus, cap.” Soap cursed, blowing out a long breath. “Feels like I don’t know you anymore.”

A brief regret flashed through Price at the words before he crossed his arms again, blocking it out. “You know now. It doesn’t change much. Only difference is that I have someone to go home to during leave.”

“Can we meet her?” Soap poked and Price grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not bringing her here, MacTavish, if that’s what you mean. I’ll see if she wants to say hello next time I phone her.”

That seemed to appease most of the members who shared looks and nodded happily.

“Is there anything else you muppets need? I have to place an order for a new chain.” Price questioned, emphasising his words by sliding the tags off the broken chain.

“Would she like us?”

At that, the man couldn’t help but smile to himself, looking around at his team. “She already does.”

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