#soap x you

[spidehpig]

the crooks are out, and the streets are grey

aka a prison pen pal au

HUUUUGE fucking thank you to @ceilidho for all of the writing advice and beta reading this and just generally being a big motivation and indulging in all of my random cod thoughts lol

this is incredibly self-indulgent. tags will be updated accordingly with a warning on each chapter when necessary. i'm a big fan of ghoap being perverted violent freaks if you couldn't tell.

thanks for reading besties. sorry there isn't any direct reader x ghost interaction yet. i promise it's coming.

you can also find me on twitter

[cw implied sexual harassment, future dubcon, explicit sexual content] 18+ MDNI

AO3

Part 1

It starts with a little slip of paper shoved under the bars of his shared cell with Soap. 

An official notice to inform inmates of the start of a new pen pal program the following week. Some rehabilitative bullshit about encouraging good behavior and rehabilitating prisoners on track to be released within the next few years. Ghost can’t help but roll his eyes as he crumples up the slip of paper and makes his way to the prison yard. Doesn’t give it another thought. 

That is until he receives a letter. Packaged in a little envelope with the prettiest handwriting he’s ever seen, addressed to the one and only Simon V. Riley: Inmate #634. The envelope had been torn open with a letter opener, read by prison staff, and searched for contraband, of course, before it made its way through the slot of his cell door. It comes in a lilac envelope and it's even adorned with a pretty little heart right next to his name scrawled in cursive. 

Ghost shoves the pastry he swiped in the cafeteria from a new inmate into his mouth as he rips open the letter with mild interest. He lets out a snort when he sees that the staple holding the pages of the letter together was ripped out by whatever guard had gotten stuck with mail duty today. He knows that you’ll have already received an angry voicemail from the prison advising you that all mail to inmates must be paperclip and staple free upon arrival. 

He glances over the letter with disinterest, a couple paragraphs introducing yourself and one detailing your excitement about joining the program. He only skims his way to the second page where you start to ask him questions about himself before he’s crumpling up the pages to shove under his bunk. He’ll be free of this place in a mere sixteen months; doesn’t need a bloody pen pal to encourage good behavior. 

He knows that there is anger and violence rooted deep within him. On a good day, it simmers in his chest, a warm heat that lies dormant. On bad days, it burns so hot that he can feel the angry heat creep up into his throat. It makes the words that spill from his mouth cruel, and his calloused fingers twitch as he stomps his way over to the courtyard to beat the old punching bag until his shirt is soaked through with sweat and his knuckles are raw and bloody.

Not all bad days end with him wrapping his split knuckles with bandages from the infirmary. Sometimes they end with him in solitary and picking another inmate’s dried blood from underneath his fingernails. He hasn’t had a bad day like that in over a year now. 

If he’s being honest with himself, it’s only because he doesn’t want to jeopardize his early release. Most of the other inmates know well enough now to leave Ghost be. The last inmate to piss Ghost off ended up in the infirmary with three broken ribs and two of his own teeth spat into his palm. 

Poor sod ducks his head like a quivering dog every time he meets Ghost’s gaze now; surely won’t make the mistake of cutting in front of him in line at the cafeteria again. Ghost hasn’t been outside of a prison in the last seventeen years but he can’t imagine a civilian would try to swipe food from his plate or pick a fight with him just to see if they could win it. 

So he lies through his teeth at every psych evaluation. Tells the doctors that the exercises they suggested are helping him manage his anger. He has a feeling they don’t quite believe him, but he hasn’t had an episode in over a year to justify their reservations. And since they don’t question his ability to rehabilitate into civilian life, he tells himself that he’ll be fine on the outside. All he has to do is keep to himself until Johnny gets released eight months after him. He just needs to behave for another year and he doesn’t see how writing letters would make any difference.

He had thought that if he just ignored the letters they would eventually stop coming, but despite his obvious reluctance to partake in the program, the letters keep coming. Every last one in a pretty lilac envelope, notably staple free since the first one. He gleans little from her letters. Some young bird that signed up for this pen pal exchange. She’s twenty-one and has an interest in criminology. 

Ghost decides that he hates her for it. 

Each letter gets shoved under the bunk; most of the time he doesn’t even bother to open and read them. He rolls his eyes when Soap whines and begs to trade pen pals with him. Apparently the poor mutt got stuck with some seventy-four year old retired veteran and he doesn’t think it's fair that Ghost got paired with a young woman. 

It isn’t until he receives yet another letter from his unwanted pen pal, this time addressed from another country, that something finally makes him stop in his tracks. The bird is apparently studying abroad and when he opens the envelope, a flimsy polaroid floats down into his lap. He doesn’t bother to read the newest letter and instead snatches the picture up between his thick fingers. He can’t help the groan that escapes his lips the second he flips the polaroid picture over.

Ghost hardly even looks at the sweet smile and bright blue ocean behind her. No, that’s not what catches his attention. His gaze immediately flicks down to the swell of her breasts taking up half of the image. What would be an innocent selfie to most might as well be a page ripped straight from a playboy magazine to Ghost. Clearly taken at the beach after a swim in the ocean, sweat and ocean water glistening on your skin, and Ghost can see the peaks of your nipples poking through your thin bikini top. 

And fuck is that enough for him. He hasn’t had a woman in, well, ever, and the guards keep confiscating his playboy magazines, so this will have to do. A low grunt escapes his chest as he reaches down to palm his cock that’s now twitching to attention. He pauses to make sure Soap is still snoring, loudly , in the bunk above him before he reaches down to grope at his stiffening prick. Unzips himself from his prison issued track pants and palms at his stiffening cock over the thin fabric of his briefs. 

He hisses between his teeth when he dips his hand under the band of his briefs and the rough skin of his palm tugs against the sensitive skin of his cock. Has to yank his hand back and spit into his palm before wrapping his thick fingers around the base of his cock. His other hand grips the picture of you between his fingertips as he pulls his foreskin back to reveal his swollen tip already leaking precum. It twitches in his hand as another glob of precum leaks down his prick. 

He has half a mind to wake Soap up and shove his cock down the boy’s throat. If he fucks his throat deep enough he could pretend it’s the tight heat of your cunt clenching around his cock while he laps at one of the nipples peaking through your bikini. 

Ghost’s fantasy is shattered the second the little shit sleeping above him wakes with a loud snort. He watches Soap’s head peek over the side of his bunk, pretty blue eyes clouded with sleep as his disheveled mohawk dangles over the metal bunk. 

“Yeh could’ve asked for a helping hand yaknow that, Ghost. Yeh know I’d—” Soap’s voice cuts off abruptly, eyes narrowing on the polaroid clutched in Ghost’s hand and the other wrapped around his prick.

”Whatcha got there, Ghost?” Soap drawls, accent still thick from sleep.

”Fuck off, Johnny,” Ghost grunts as he looks back down at your picture and gives his cock another stroke.

No use in deterring his mutt once his sight is set on a bone though. He feels the bunk shake and squeak as Soap scrambles down the ladder, the pervert already tenting his boxers as he crawls into Ghost’s bed.

”I said fuck off, Johnny.” Ghost grits his teeth and clutches your picture to his chest. Trying desperately to reimagine the swell of your tits pressed against his chest when you finally sink down on his cock. But Soap is relentless. His needy slut straddles Ghost’s thighs with a smirk on his face. 

And fuck it, his boy is gagging for it, he might as well. He doesn’t acknowledge Soap’s incessant teasing and instead fists a hand through his soft mohawk before shoving the brat’s head between his legs. 

A low growl escapes his chest as the man’s lips wrap around his throbbing cock. And fuck, does his mouth feel good, tight and wet as his soft lips slide down Ghost’s length, throat swallowing around him. He loses himself in the feel of Soap’s practiced mouth, eyes only snapping open when Soap lets out a deep moan. Before he can even think, the palm of his hand is connecting with Soap’s cheek, hard . It draws a low moan from Soap’s throat which only serves to irritate Ghost more.

”Shut up,” Ghost snaps and pushes Soap’s head down on his cock until he feels the man flinch and gag around his prick. Usually he loves to hear the whorish sounds that fall from his boy’s pretty lips but right now, he’s trying to imagine the way you’d cry out and beg as he inches his cock into the tight heat of your cunt. Ghost slaps his boy across the cheek again when Soap lets out a low growl and scrapes his teeth on the underside of his cock. 

Soap seems to get the message, his moans and growls slowly quiet, swirling his tongue around Ghost’s swollen glands before sinking down until his nose is buried in Ghost’s pubic hair. Ghost loses himself in the wet heat of Soap’s throat once more, eyes rolling back as his head knocks back against his pillow, your pretty smile contorting itself into a cry as he bullies his cock into your cunt. His hips buck and bruise the back of Soap’s throat with every thrust while he dreams of fucking your pretty cunt full of his cum. He cums with a snarl on his lips and Johnny gagging around him. Holds Soap down on his cock as he reaches down to squeeze at his balls one last time before ripping the boy off his cock with a sputtering gasp. 

Soap is immediately scrambling up the bed, grinding his prick against the swell of Ghost’s thigh.

”C’mon, Ghost, lemme see, just a peek I swear that’s all I need,” Soap whines, frantically grinding his cock against Ghost’s leg. Ghost blinks as the bliss from his orgasm melts away, the bunk creaking from the force of Soap’s desperate thrusts, the man panting and grunting above him. 

He languidly flips your photo between his fingers, any streak of possessiveness gone now, as long as it’ll get his mutt to stop humping his leg faster so he can get some sleep. 

“Ah, fuck , Ghost, looks bonnie, don’t she,” Soap pants as his eyes flit over your bikini photo, the grind of his hips losing their rhythm for a moment. 

“Bet ‘er ass hasn’t been fucked yet,” Soap groans.

”Make ‘er take us both.”

”Bet she tastes sweet.”

”Pretty thing.”

Ghost barely registers Soap’s babbling above him, just grabs his ass and guides his hips against his thigh until Soap is cumming in his briefs with a low moan. When the boy finally calms down enough to catch his breath, he pulls the cum soaked briefs off of his boy and tosses them across the cell before pulling the mutt to his chest as they both doze off.

Ghost wakes annoyed, drenched in sweat and cum and Soap snoring loudly against his neck. The little shit has the audacity to grumble and pout when he makes Soap go sleep in his own bunk. When he hears Soap’s start to snore, he sits up, stealing Soap’s pencil and a spare sheet of paper. He starts scribbling words back to you. The first letter he’s responded to. His handwriting is ugly and near illegible, but he thinks you should be able to read most of it. He hangs his arms out of the bars of his cell and whistles at the guard stationed down the hall. Shoves his letter to you in the guard’s hand and grunts at him to send it to his bird.

The guard, Andrews, he thinks, scoffs snatching the letter from Ghost’s fingertips before banging on the cell door.

”MacTavish! You got a letter for your lovebird too?”

Ghost groans, already prepared for the bitchfest that’s about to happen.

Soap awakes with a loud snort, head snapping up over the edge of his bunk and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.” 

“Aye fuck off, you limp dick prick,” Soap growls and scrambles down the rickety bunk to press the length of his body against the cell bars as he curses the guard that taunted him. A litany of Scottish curses fall from his lips as Soap presses his forehead to the bars and goads the guard into approaching their shared cell. The little spitfire has himself so worked up he’s pacing the length of their cell and spewing insults at the guards on duty.

“I know yer playing favorites, Andrews. Think yer funny giving me some old bastard, don’t yeh?” Soap hollers into the hallway and slams a fist against the bars of their cell, pressing his forehead against the bars once again, growling and swearing some more when Andrews takes a step back, barking out a harsh laugh. Ghost can practically see the metaphorical fur on Soap’s hind spike up at that, just a moment before he spits at the guard’s feet. Andrews, the scrawny little fucker, lurches forward to swat at Soap’s fists clenched around the bars of their cell with his baton.

“You better back up and watch that mouth of yours Mactavish, or it’ll be another two days in solitary for you,” Andrews snaps at Soap and shoots a knowing directly at Ghost. 

And oh does Ghost hate when Soap gets sent to solitary. Can’t use his boy’s holes when he’s locked up on the other side of the prison. The rough drag of his own fist just can’t compete with the tight heat of Johnny’s throat or arse. Especially now that he’s got a bird back home to think about. Ghost grips the back of Soap’s sweat soaked shirt and yanks him back from the cell bars, grunting at him to give it a fuck rest.  Ghost retreats to his bunk when Soap finally cools off, watching as Soap flops down onto the chair at their shared desk and starts to angrily scribble in his journal, occasionally grumbling to himself under his breath. He settles back against his pillow, content with thinking about his new bird on the outside until the guards release them for breakfast. He almost feels bad about not writing to you sooner. Poor girl tired of her letters going unanswered, you really were just begging for his attention when you sent a violent inmate a photo of your tits now, weren’t you?

[dumbbitchgalore]

Part 4: Old man!Price wants his birdie to fly away 🕊

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

John sighs softly as he walks out of the door with the final box filled with his belongings.

Parking your car in the driveway, you walk out of it and approach the front door as you spot John. You cross your arms and sigh softly.

"Done moving out, Captain?" You ask, void of any emotion.

John groans as he hears the formality in your voice, "Birdie-"

You put you hand up to cut him off, "Don't. Don't you dare call me that. It's fucking poison coming out of your mouth."

He frowns at your harsh scowl and releasing reasoning with you is no longer an option as you walk past him and open the door to your once shared home.

This is what he wished as the desired outcome of his actions. For you to kick his arse and finally be free of the bastard that he is. A broke, old man like him didn't need to clip a birdie's wings just for his sake.

But somewhere within his conscious, John was beginning to feel a sense of loneliness, guilt and longing. His actions where for his birdie's freedom. But was there truly no other motive towards his selfish actions?

John was beginning to slowly become an after thought to you as you were getting ready for a night out.

You stand in front of the mirror situated on the bedroom wall as you admire yourself. However, in the corner of your eye John's non-existant silhouette lingered behind you. Closing your eyes, you feel his arms wrap around you as you lean into his ghost. His scent begins to waft around you, engulfing you an a hazy trance.

John, John, John

Shaking your head left and right, you shoo his spirit away from your presence. You brush the wrinkles out of your outfit before walking out of the front door.

Unlocking the car, you sit in the driver's seat turning the ignition on. Headlight on, you drive out. Breathing in and out, playing ever single possible scenario as to how this night will unhold.

Regaining the lost confidence attributed to John's heinous actions, you sike yourself up through the whole car ride.

Coming to a halt in front of the pub, you spot him waiting for you near the front door. Smiling softly at the scene, you notice him shivering as the winter breeze bumps against him, prickling his skin. You find humour in the lack of a jacket, possibly to impress you with a visual of his body as he always tried to back during your engagement with Price which you actively ingored.

But now you decide to take in the sight, drinking in his physique along with his tattoo and his stupid mohawk that you used to depised, but now it's style began to grow on you.

Looking at yourself in the sun visor mirrow, you fix any imperfections you find in yourself before stepping out of the car and walking to him.

Giving him a soft smile, you hug him before stepping back and chuckling nervously.

"Sorry, haven't done this in a while" You say sheepishly, rubbing your upper him.

He smirks at your shyness, kissing your cheek. "Let me take the reins then, Bonnie?"

You nod at the scotsman's comment, leaning into his touch as he ushers you inside of the pub.

On the other side of the street, there he was. A witness to the scene which took place in front of him. John stands there idly, trying his best to let his birdie fly away and start the creation of a new nest.

[mrsparrasblog]

Hey, but hear me out; I'll be very quick, I promise.

Imagine TF141 needs to work with another task force. They're good, of course, not nearly as good as TF141, but who is? Everyone except Ghost is very open to meeting their new teammates for the mission.

When they saw the team, it was nothing out of the ordinary for them. An older captain who shot daggers through their heads, a masked guy too (Ghost didn't like this), and two sergeants who lacked the decency to not joke during the debrief. They were all too similar until a beautiful woman came running after them, complaining that they didn't wait for her, which only got a sorry out of the captain who pressed her into his arms, showing his claim of her in front of everyone.

Ghost couldn't take you seriously. You contravened every military law there was with your pink bows in your hair, full-face makeup, and pink sports bra in the gym, which made your boobs pop up so beautifully. He thought you were completely incomplete.

But when you were on the field, slaying enemy after enemy without hesitation and only complaining when you got dirt on your manicured, "forbidden" fingernails, he knew you were at least more competent than Soap and Gaz most of the time.

What did it for him was you kissing the masked guy after the mission, telling him how proud you were of him and that he wasn't a monster. He needed to have you on his team.

The captain was sold when he saw you cockwarming your captain while he did paperwork, nuzzling your head against his hair-covered chest. He needed that too.

Gaz was sold by your witty remarks. A pretty face and body were easy, and to be honest, with your callsign being Barbie, he didn't believe you had much brains to match your beauty. But then you just outsmarted him in training every time. It wasn't much to get this guy smitten.

Soap knew he wanted to fuck you the minute you came in—nice ass, great tits, what else does a man need?

He knew he wanted more than to fuck you, preferably marry you, bring you to Scotland, and make you at least six times pregnant with his babies, when you listened to him for hours talking about bombs and mathematics and all the stuff no one was interested in besides him.

When your team left, it stung all of them.

"We all agree that we need her on our team, right?"

"Affirmative."

"Aye."

"Yes, sir."

And now the plan was formed to get their doll back from the other guys because they already had you long enough and no one should be greedy about their Barbie. (Except for them; they don't share.)

[bellasfortuna]

boy next door Johnny who doesn't speak much to you, but he's always around in some capacity

bnd!Johnny who, as the older brother to one of your classmates/school friends, doesn't speak much to you directly at school, but he's always there to say hello when you come over to visit your friend and ask about your day

bnd!Johnny who, despite being a few years older, jokes with you when your friend (his younger sister) starts dating another classmate; "best if we both keep an eye on 'er, aye bonnie?" eyes twinkling with some unsaid joke only he's in on, not saying much else but he always seems to orbit around whenever you, his sister and her new boyfriend are somewhere

bnd!Johnny who, when you miss a day or seem particularly quiet in the halls, goes out of his way to discreetly ask his sister or your other friends if you're doing okay; "'ave ya checked on 'er?", "under the weather? orz someone botherin' 'er?" face congenial and relaxed despite the slight set to his jaw, eyes analyzing the absence of where you should be

bnd!Johnny who, when your date to formal goes a bit south towards the end of the night, offers (of course) to drive you and his sister home, you live right next door so it's really no problem (truly, bonnie), murmuring lowly, "ya look very stunnin' tonight" as you slip into his backseat

bnd!Johnny who, coincidentally, goes to the same university as you, just three years your senior, and gives you an almost wolfish smile the first time he spots you, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you so close you can feel the heat from his body, "didnae ken ya went here too, bonnie, great minds think alike yeah?"

[mimisplayground]

GUYS!!… soap mactavish “the munch” is cool, BUT WHAT ABOUT SOAP MACTAVISH THE HEAVY HANDED??? HM???

Just his hands on your waist while hes plowing into you and you keep whining about how he’s gripping you too hard. Pummeling your insides too hard. And he’s whispering apologies into your ear. Calling you his strong little birdie for being able to withstand his strength.

Lets you claw at his back as retaliation for how hard he’s fucking you. Listens to you scream and moan. “Pretty birdie…” he mumbles under his breath between grunts and huffs.

lemme know if yall want me to elaborate or make a real fic out of this :(

edit: my draft was not properly edited from being changed from afab to gender neutral, it has now been changed! thank you for the understanding and sorry for anyone who might’ve been put off by it. its something that escaped me and since its just a drabble i didnt have it beta read, ill try to be more careful in the future!!

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 3: The Debrief

Summary: John "Soap" MacTavish has hated you since the very first day you arrived on base and joined their Task Force. You argue all the time, and one day, it pushes Captain Price to his absolute limit. He sends you both away to an isolated cabin in the woods for a week in hopes you can put aside your differences and bond. Will it work? Or will you two just end up hating each other even more?

This is a slow burn enemies to lovers fan fiction featuring Soap and you, the reader.

Word Count: 5,581

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Soap is mean, like really mean, smut later to come, rough smut, lots of swearing, violence, descriptive, blood, angst, fluff, slow burn, (more to come as I write)

A/N: Enjoy this one!

Masterlist | <- Previous | Next ->

Bitter Allies • Part 3

It was a relief when you finally pulled up to the rendezvous site. Medics were already on standby outside of the helo with a stretcher and supplies. Ghost, in his classic white skull mask, stood among them, watching as your transport rolled in.

Soap was the first one out, giving information to the medical team as they rushed up to take General Azamat away. You slipped out the other side, walking around the vehicle and straight to the waiting helicopter. The General's blood still stained your hands, and you wanted desperately to wash them. Before you can board though, you pass by Ghost, who stops you by grabbing your arm.

"You look like shit. He give you trouble?" Ghost asks, his voice gruff. Ghost wasn't a man of many words, but there always was an odd comfort in the way he spoke. Though to anyone outside of the military, he probably just seemed intimidating and rude.

"Doesn't he always?" You answer your lieutenant, glancing back over to your shoulder as you watched Soap help the medics lift General Azamat onto the stretcher. Ghost follows your gaze and lets go of your arm.

"Go get cleaned up. You did good today." His words gave you a little reassurance, but you aren't too accepting of them at the moment.

"Johnny would disagree." You grumble to Ghost before stepping up into the helo.

The entire mission seemed like a reck from the very beginning. Nothing seemed to go smoothly. Maybe it was just because you were working with Soap. Or maybe it was because you felt like you'd made too many mistakes, ones that Soap was more than happy to point out constantly. Then again, why should you care what he thought? Maybe things did go fairly well, and you just couldn't see that right now. All you knew was that you were exhausted, and your hands were dirty.

You only had access to wet wipes and rubbing alcohol until you got back to base but that was far better than just sitting with someone else's blood staining your hands. Pulling them from a small metal cabinet attached to the side of the helo, you sit down and get to work on scrubbing away at your hands. Slowly the white pristine cloths turn pink. 

Shortly after you get to scrubbing your hands, the General is loaded up next to you. The medics are a mass of chaotic movement as they tend to him, and you find yourself getting up to move to a different spot.

Right as you find a calmer place to sit on the other side of the helicopter, there's a single muddy boot stepping into your line of sight. Looking up, you see Soap is trying to board, and you lock eyes with him for a long tense moment. Him mid-step up onto the helo, and you staying firmly planted where you'd sat down. Before anything can start, Ghost steps in.

"Problem?" He asks, breaking Soap out of his frozen state. Soap steps back down then so both of his feet are firmly planted on the ground.

"With her? Several." He mutters, eyes staying locked onto yours. You roll your eyes at him, clenching your jaw.

"That's enough, Soap." Ghost scolds, his voice firm. "You're going to have to wait for the next bird anyway. This one's full." He continues, which was the best news you'd heard all day. "See you on base, States." Ghost adds.

With that, Ghost gives two rough pats to the side of the metal helo, and the blades start to whirl faster. Before you can fully leave though, you can't help but make one more jab at your annoying field partner.

"Hope next time it doesn't hit the plate!" You shout over the loud sounds of the chopper taking off. You didn't really mean that, but exhaustion and stress were getting the better of you, and you were annoyed.

"Oh, thanks for the parting wish, States! You're a real charmer!!" He shouts back, trying to take a step closer, but Ghost puts an arm in front of him to keep him back.

You roll your eyes and slide the helo door shut. Through the little window, you watch as Soap and Ghost back further away from the helicopter. Ghost gives a thumbs up to the pilot, signaling they were all clear, and then it starts to lift off the ground. Peace until you land back on base and inevitably run into Soap again.

***

Ghost and Soap watch as the bird takes off, carrying their target and teammate away. The next transport would be arriving shortly to take the remaining men and women back. For now, they just needed to sit tight.

As soon as the loud sounds of the helo were fading into the distance, Soap lets out a long groan and rolls his neck and shoulders. Typically, Ghost preferred to stay away from their drama, but his brother-in-arms and close friend seemed a little more tense than usual.

"What was that all about?" He ventures, watching Soap cross his arms tightly across his chest.

"Ah, just fucking stateside bonnie boakin'," he mutters under his breath. "I swear she purposely acts like a brat just to piss me off. Well, she's doing a bloody good job at that, ain't she?" He continues on, letting out a stressed laugh as Ghost continues to listen silently. "Never thought I'd ever meet someone who just grates on my nerves as much as she does."

"I think she'd say the same about you." Ghost replies, getting more exasperated expressions from the Scot.

"Are you really siding with her?! I tell her fucking no, and she does the opposite, I tell her what to do, and she rolls her eyes at me like a fucking child! Whenever she's around, I can just feel my shoulders get tense, and I just had to do an entire mission like that with her!"

Ghost huffs as he listens to Soap. "You two just need to fuck and get it out of your system."

Soap nearly choked on his own spit at Ghost's remark. Ghost was pretty blunt at times, but this was a whole new level. He ran a hand over his face, his cheeks coloring slightly at the thought of even sleeping with States. He'd rather die than ever sleep with her. 

"Go fuck yourself, Ghost." He retorted, thinking the man must have been joking. This was just one of Ghost's dry humored jokes. "If you really think sex is going to fix anything, you're as delusional as her." Annoyance was beginning to creep back into his tone.

Ghost rolls his eyes at the Sergeant, though doesn't let him see that. "You never heard of hate-fucking? Sex is a great way to let off steam. Releases tension. And you and States got so much damn tension." Ghost took that moment to light a cigarette then, putting his mask up just enough to light it and take a drag. "Gives me fucking headache," he continues, exhaling slowly. "Watching you two fight all the damn time."

"Well you're just full of great advice, aren't you then?" He rolls his eyes sarcastically, still a bit stunned at his lieutenant's words. "As thrilling as that sounds," Ghost raises a brow at him, making Soap's tone change to a more harsh one. "I prefer my sex not to come with a big ol'side of hostility. What, do you like her or something and want to live vicariously through me?"

Ghost lets out a laugh, which for him was just a light huff of air. Either way, it was very rare for Ghost to laugh at anything. "I'm not the relationship type, Johnny." He says simply, taking another short puff of his cigarette. "Besides," he exhales the smoke. "If she means nothing, then why are you getting all testy about it?"

"I'm not testy!" He retorts defensively, his tone somewhat contradictory to what he was trying to prove. He realizes this and takes a deep breath to calm down. "I just... I don't like her. That's all. There isn't anything deeper than that." There couldn't be anything deeper. He refused to even venture down that path. "Let's just drop it. I don't want to talk about her anymore, and I don't want to fuck her either. End of story."

Ghost had a slight smirk on his face. Whether or not Soap did have deeper feelings beyond hate for the 141 girl, it was just a little amusing to see him so worked up. He didn't really care too much if he was right or wrong. "Whatever you say, Johnny." He muses, finishing off his cigarette and flicking it to the ground to stomp it out.

In the distance, he could hear the spinning blades of the second helo. He hears Soap grumble at his response, clearly not happy that Ghost was acting like he didn't believe him.

As soon as the big metal bird landed, Soap was rushing to board it. Ghost doesn't push the subject of him and States any further though. It was fun to tease the Sergeant and get him worked up, but Ghost knew when to stop too. Still, that doesn't stop Ghost from smirking as he follows him to the helicopter.

***

By the time you arrive on base, you just want to collapse in your room and sleep. First you need to shower though. Blood, sweat, and dirt stuck to your skin, weighting down your tired body even more. You hope that the showers aren't full and that you'll be able to grab one rather quickly. You want to get in some sleep before the mission debrief.

The helicopter doors slide open, and you jump out, feet hitting the tarmac. A dull ache shoots up your legs, a familiar feeling post mission.

Up ahead, you can see Captain Price is waiting. He always touches base with each squad member upon their return from a mission if he's around. It's a rather sweet gesture.

He's standing with his arms behind his back, feet spread shoulder length apart, and spine straight as a board. The bucket hat he never goes anywhere without is atop his head, threatening to blow off due to the wind caused by the helicopter and of course a cigar between his lips. Despite the tiredness, you're happy to see him.

"States, glad you see you've returned to us in one piece." He teases. His eyes crinkle up at the sides, yet they still remain hardened from all the time he's served.

You give him a smile, allowing yourself to stop and enjoy his company. "I don't feel like I'm in one piece. This was a rough one." You admit easily. Despite only knowing him for six months, Price was a man you trusted deeply.

Price raises his brow at your response, looking a little surprised by your answer. "I heard the update from Ghost. Sounds like some unexpected challenges came up. Nothing I didn't think you couldn't handle."

"Just... beating myself up about it. I don't like deviating from the plan." It wasn't a lie, but not the whole truth either.

"Important lesson to be learned there, States. No matter how much you plan for something, never count on it being final. You will never be able to plan for everything. This life will always take you by surprise. You can either let it get you down, or you can run with it."

You can't help but smile at the old man. "Thanks Price. You and your old man wisdom. I'll file that one away."

Price chuckles softly, though you can tell he's trying to read you right now. He's very subtle about it, but you've learned how to detect it. His eyes give him away.

"I might be old, but I'm not blind. What else is buggin' you?"

Of course he'd notice. Nothing gets past the Captain. "What do you think?" You injury, watching as he shifts his weight and crosses his arms.

"Hmm..." He mocks like he needs to think about it. "Wouldn't be MacTavish would it?"

"Wow, that's insane. How'd you know?" You banter, watching as he rolled his eyes at your jesting.

"Lucky guess." He says simply.

"You put us together on a mission," you state, getting a nod from your Captain.

"I did." He confirms.

"Why?" You frown. Price knew you didn't get along. He knew nothing good came from you two being in the same room. Yet for some reason, he sent you out with him anyway.

Price sighs softly, looking away from you for a moment as if he needed to think out what he wanted to say. After a moment, he answers you.

"I don't think you realize the potential of just how good of a team you and Soap could be." He starts. You open your mouth to disagree, but Price holds up a hand to silence you before continuing.

"This mission required someone who can move quick and clean out a building fast. I've never seen someone able to clear out a building like Soap can. And he can do that regardless on if it's stealth or chaos. But when he doesn't know what to do, he slows down. You can think quick under pressure. No matter how stressful things get, you always deliver. You always know how to continue the mission. That combination of skill was perfect for this mission."

You look away from the Captain, not wanting to believe him, but the mission today proved how right Price was. It may have taken a life or death situation, but you and Soap worked together for the first time today, and it was rather incredible. Even you were shocked at how well and quick you moved together, even with a few hiccups. If you just didn't hate each other that combination could be practiced and refined even more.

"But he hates me, Price."

"I don't think he does." Price counters, but you don't believe him. Just like how he said Soap would warm up to you.

"He absolutely does."

"Well the mission was more than less a success. Seems like you've at least had a break through."

You laugh at that, though you can't blame Price for that assumption. You also thought so until Soap reverted back to being a dick.

"Respectfully, Captain, I think you're wrong. Nothing has changed. And I don't know if it ever will."

Before your conversation can continue, the sound of the second helicopter flying in draws your attention to the sky. Soap was on that helo. Unless you'd miraculously gotten your wish, and he'd fallen out on the way over.

Doubtful.

"That's my cue to head out, Cap. I'll see you at the debrief." You tell him, getting a nod from your Captain. You give his arm a pat as you pass by him, catching his parting words.

"You better be heading to the showers! You show up to debrief smelling like shit, and I'll have you cleaning bathrooms for a week!"

***

Soap is both relieved to be back on base as well as dreading it. Relieved because this is his home, a place where he is safe and can rest, and dreading it because the biggest thorn in his side was also here. Where, he wasn't sure, but she was here.

He was currently giving Ghost the silent treatment, childish as it may be. Though he hadn't really gotten the chance to ignore him either. Ghost was fairly silent on the trip back to base, though Soap should have known better than to think he'd be super talkative. Maybe the things Ghost said earlier was just a way to shut him up so he could enjoy a peaceful ride back, but Soap knew Ghost would never lie to him either.

Soap really just wanted to be alone for a bit. Take a nice hot shower to clear his head, maybe get something to eat. He still had the mission debrief he needed to go to later, and he knew he'd run into States there. So really all he needed to do was survive another few hours in her presence and then he can be free of her for a little bit.

As he jumps off the helo, he's already looking around for Price. If he wasn't off on a mission himself or too busy there was usually a 50/50 chance he'd be there post mission. And sure enough, it doesn't take Soap long to spot the Brit. Unfortunately, he really didn't feel up to talking. There was no way to avoid Price though. He stood right where Soap needed to go to leave.

He approaches his Captain, giving him a nod in greeting and hoping he could just slip by. "Captain." He mutters as he attempts to just walk past him.

"Got somewhere you need to be?" Price asks him, turning to look at Soap as he stops by the ramp that leads down to the ground.

"Just wanting to hit the showers." Soap grumbles, unable to keep his irritation from his voice.

Sensing the Sergeant was on edge, Price simply nods, allowing Soap to leave. "Just be on time for the mission debrief." He tells the solider. Soap gives a nod and is off. Price watches him leave, a frown pulling at his lips.

Ghost slowly makes his way over to Price, having watched the encounter between the Sergeant and the Captain. Price was still watching where Soap had just made his exit. "Was it really that bad?" He asks the Lieutenant.

Ghost's voice was steady, a hint of fatigue underlying his words. "It was pretty rough," he replied. "They're like oil and water. Fought the whole way. Thought they might've killed each other at one point—I guess States just got into some trouble. Not really sure."

He paused a moment before continuing. "When it got serious, they managed to get it done. First time I've ever really seen them do a half decent job together. It was still sloppy. States and Soap need to sort their shit out.”

Price lets out a long sigh. "Sucks that the only thing that makes them work together is when their life depends on it."

"I don't think today was a total failure for them." Ghost reassures Price. "At least we know when it matters they'll have each other's backs. They might just need more time."

"I've given them six months. I thought for sure Soap would come around by now."

"Just give them time, old man. Let things settle. I think Johnny'll come around yet."

***

The one thing you hated most about the base you currently resided on was that you were not given your own showers. Your room didn't even have a bathroom to get ready in. There was a communal bathroom in both the men's and women's barracks, equipped with toilets, sinks, and mirrors, but the shower house was a completely different building.

The men's and women's shower houses were separate but they were still right next to each other. The odd design choice could be explained by the fact that the base was older. Back in the day, they didn't have many females in the armed forces, so the shower house was only designed for one gender. When more and more women began to sign up, they simply just modified the current shower house instead of building a new one.

This design meant that the showers were always fairly crowded. And this was unfortunately the reality you faced as you approached the building. There was a line out the door for both the men's and women's section. Sighing, you had no choice but to join the back of the line. Not only were you desperate for a shower, but you also headed Price's warming that if you stank at the mission debrief, there'd be consequences. You really had no choice.

You'd only been waiting for about five minutes before the universe decided to bless you once again. Right as your line was beginning to move up, right as you thought you'd be able to make it into the shower house without running into your field mate, you hear his voice.

"Oh you are fucking with me." You hear him say as he realizes you were also in line. You turn to look towards Soap, watching as he stepped into the men's line, right alongside the women's. You scowl him, folding your arms across your chest as you look him over.

He was covered in a layer of dirt from the mission, and he stank. As you look at the items he was carrying, you can help but raise your brows in surprise.

"How the hell are you taking a shower with only body wash and a wash cloth?" You had a whole set of shampoo, conditioner, soap, face wash, body scrub, a razor, a loofa, deodorant, and a moisturizer. Given this wasn't your everyday routine. Just the one you did after missions to get the blood off you and help you destress. All he had though was a single tiny bottle of body wash. It wasn't even good body wash. It was the crappy stuff they issued to everyone in the military for free. 

Soap looks over the shower bag you carried, rolling his eyes as he viewed all the products you had with you. "This is more than enough to get clean. You don't need all that fancy shite." He claims. "This is the military, not a five star hotel or a spa."

"Just cause we're in the military doesn't mean we can't have good hygiene." You grumble back.

"My hygiene is fine."

"Says the man about to only wash his armpits."

"I can wash my whole body with this."

"What about your hair? Just cause you don't have a lot of it doesn't mean you shouldn't wash that too. Oh God..." you realize it then, your face scrunching up. "Please don't tell me you wash your hair with fucking body wash."

"It's an all-in-one wash, princess. It's meant to be used for everything." Soap growls out, getting annoyed very fast.

"Don't you dare call me, princess, John." You knew he hated it when you called him by his first name. But if he was going to be calling you names, then two could play at that game. And boy did he hate that. His face got red as he glared at you.

"Why don't you just worry about your own damn self?! Like figuring out what you're going to tell Price at the mission debrief when it comes up you almost fucked up our cover! Worry about not getting kicked off the team. Or don't, cause I'd love to watch your bonnie little ass walk off this base!" He snaps, his raised voice getting the attention of the officer standing guard near the front of the line at the shower house's entrance.

"Hey! Break it up!" He yells at you both. "If you're going to cause problems then you don't get to shower!"

You and Soap both clench your jaws, glaring daggers at each other and throwing silent threats back and forth with your eyes. "See you at the debrief, States." Soap whispers lowly before turning his gaze forward.

"Get some damn shampoo." You whisper back, mirroring his action and also looking forward.

***

You can't say that taking a shower made you feel much better. You blamed that on Soap. Maybe the shower would have been a lot better had it not been for his awful company.

Now you found yourself standing outside of the debrief room. Normally you weren't too nervous about post mission debriefs, but this one felt different. Soap was in your head, and you worried you really had messed up.

Off in your own little world, staring at the door, you jump hearing a voice.

"You having a staring contest with that door? I hate it say it, but I think it's probably gonna win." It was Gaz. You're not sure how long he'd been standing there. His warm chocolate eyes met yours, and they go from amused to slightly concerned.

"You alright, States?" He asks softly, and you give him a smile.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just been a long day." You reassure him, finally grabbed the door handle and pushing it open, not giving him a chance to ask anything further.

"Just take it easy, yeah? We've all had tough missions." He smiles, giving your back a gentle pat before taking a seat.

Soap was already inside, chatting away with Ghost. They were sitting next to each other, while Price was standing in the front with Kate Laswell on a screen. Normally she joined you this way. It was rare she was ever in the area to be in-person.

Gaz takes a seat across from Ghost, leaving you to sit across from Soap. It was a rather large table, so there was a sizable distance between you. That doesn't keep Soap from eyeing you as you take a seat though.

"What?" You inquire defensively when he won't stop.

"Oh, nothing. Just want to make sure my poor hygiene isn't bothering your sensitive nose." He throws back, getting an elbow to the ribs from Ghost. A warning.

"Alright," Price says, making everyone in the room turn their focus to him. He was looking right at you and Soap. "Now that everyone is here, let's get started. Let's try to stay on task too, yeah?"

A mixture of "yes sir" or "aye sir" filled the room, and the debrief started.

It began as all debriefs did, with an overview of the mission objectives. Then discussion began on if each one was met. This part of the debrief had actually gone fairly smoothly. All main objectives had been met in one way or another. It wasn't until you got to the part where you'd needed to deviate from the plan that it started going south.

"So as we all know," Price began. "A Russian convoy began to approach the base within 0800. This resulted in our Bravo team having to stray from our original plan."

"Thanks to States, we got back on track quickly." Ghost fills in. "It was her idea to have Alpha team move in so her and Soap could infiltrate the West building."

Price nods towards you. "Good call on that, States. Your plan worked well."

That brings a smile to your face for a moment until you hear Soap huff a little and mutter, "give me a break," under his breath. You turn your gaze to him, jaw tight. He's sitting slouched in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, and still looking towards.

"As solid a plan as it was though, it seems it took Bravo team a long time to reach the West building. Who's to say a back up plan would have been needed if this objective was met sooner." Laswell adds. "It looks like comms went silent for a while. Soap care to weight on what happened during that time?"

Soap was smiling, but he just shakes his head. "Nah, States can probably fill you in better since it was her doing." He says, making you glare harshly at him.

"Laswell asked-" Price starts, but is cut off by you.

"There was a group of four men, and I wanted to take them out so we could continue on the faster route to the building. Soap didn't want to be a team player and wouldn't help me." You start in, making Soap instantly glare at you for, what he believed to be, twisting the story.

"Don't you dare twist this like it was my fault!" He exclaims, before looking back to Price and continuing. "I said it was too risky and opted to go around. But she just had to prove a point and went in to take on four men all by herself!" He points a finger at you.

"It wasn't too risky! You just didn't want to do it cause it was my idea!"

"Who the fuck cares!? You don't do that and put your partner and the entire mission at risk!"

"It was fine! I took out three and you got the last one! Nothing bad happened!"

"Yeah, I took him out right as he was about to call for back up! It's a bloody good thing I got there in time! And just cause nothing bad happened doesn't mean-"

"Enough! Stop!" Price yells. "You were asked a bloody question, fucking answer it and stop addressing each other!" He growls before repeating Laswell's question. "Now, why didn't you make it to your objective in a timely manner?"

"Cause States got a big ego and took on four men herself, and we had to take time to clean up the mess." Soap answers, making you slam a fist to the table.

"That took thirty seconds at most! We were late cause Soap had to lecture me for five minutes about it!" You counter.

"Cause you almost bloody got us killed!" Soap shouts back.

"You're being so fucking dramatic, MacTavish!"

"ENOUGH!!" Price yells, slamming both fists to the table. "Bloody hell! This," he motions between you and Soap. "I've had enough of this! The bickering, the glaring, the dirty looks. I've had enough!" He berated you.

"You two are going to like each other, or at the very least tolerate each other. Pack your shit tonight. I'm sending you both away for team bonding. One week. You two, by yourselves, in the middle of fucking nowhere."

Soap's jaw clenched as Captain Price's words echoed around the debriefing room. His blue eyes narrowed at you before looking back to Price. He didn't want this anymore than you did.

"Sir, with all due respect..." he began, managing to keep his voice steady despite the absolute shitstorm brewing inside of him. But Price raised a hand, cutting him off.

"No, Soap. This is final. I don't want to hear another word."

Soap was furious A week. A week in the middle of nowhere with you. The thought alone was enough to make him want to throw something.

His fists clenched as he glared at the women across from him. This was your fault. All of it. He felt the anger rise up in him as he met your eyes and held your gaze.

"Hope you're fucking happy," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You growl at him, about to make a nasty retort, but Price stops you.

"No! No more fighting on this base. One of you opens your mouth again, and I'm making it two weeks." He threatens, making you swallow the words you had for Soap.

"Price..." You address carefully. "I don't see how-"

"Is that 2 weeks I'm hearing, States?" He raises his voice again, showing how serious he was. It makes you clamp your mouth shut.

"No sir." You answers shortly.

"Good. You two are dismissed. Pack. You're leaving at 0400 hours." When you and Soap didn't make a move to get up, Price reiterated. "Right now! Go!"

Nothing more was said. You and Soap both got up and went to the door. Even in the hallway as you both headed towards the barracks, Soap didn't say a word, and you weren't about to break the silence either. You could practically feel the anger radiating off him though.

A whole fucking week together. This was going to be hell.

You parted ways shortly after, Soap's pace a lot faster than yours. You did see him make the turn for his barracks though before you went to yours.

***

Soap entered his room and slammed the door, his hand scraped over his stubble, frustration gnawing at his insides. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his whirring mind. The thought of being stuck with you for an entire week was enough to make his blood boil.

"Calm down, MacTavish," he muttered to himself, his Scottish accent thick with irritation. "You've survived worse." He tries to tell himself, though a week with you seemed like hell to him.

He growls and kicks his dresser. This was all your fault. He'd been looking forward to his next mission without you, or maybe even a little time off. But no. He got to spend a week alone with you.

All he could hope was that you'd make it through the week without killing each other. Shaking his head, he starts to pack furiously.

This was going to be a long week...

***

When you got to your barracks, you leaned back against the door and buried your face in your hands. You tried to come to terms with the fact that you were about to spend a week with Soap MacTavish. Alone. In the middle of nowhere.

This was your nightmare.

You stayed where you were a good five minutes while you let yourself calm down. Your heart was hammering in your chest.

"A week could go by fast though, right? You didn't even need to speak to him during those seven days... you can do this..." You mutter to yourself, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it true.

Sighing softly, you start to pack, pulling out your military duffle bag from under your bed. Despite you trying to convince yourself otherwise, you knew deep down this was going to be a long week.

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

Anyone got any cute romantic bonding ideas for when you’re in an apocalypse?

[gloomwitchwrites]

Congratulations on 1k followers! That's amazing!!

Could I please request Soap NSFW Alphabet pretty please??? <3

Thank you so much!!!

Ugh, Soap. I love that man. Really, I adore all of the 141 men, but Soap is such a goofy guy. And an NSFW alphabet about him? Yes please. You are indulging me, anon.

1k follower event rules

NSFW Alphabet Template (with a few changes)

Word Count: 1.3k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // 1k follower event masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

This might be a controversial opinion, but Johnny just isn’t that great at aftercare. Not that he doesn’t try—he absolutely does try—but it’s not up to the standard that it could be. Johnny will snuggle you, and cuddle, but everything else beyond that might slip is mind. Johnny only thinks about cleanup when his cum is on your body and not in you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of their partner’s)

He loves your neck and he loves the way his hand looks when it’s holding on to it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

While Johnny loves finishing inside you, he also loves marking your body with his cum. He fucking loves kneeling over you, jerking himself, and painting your stomach, thighs, and chest with his cum. He loves it even more when you clean yourself up by wiping it up with your fingers and putting them in your mouth.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Once had a foursome with a random woman at a bar that Gaz and Ghost joined in on. While the three of them didn’t interact with each other, Johnny couldn’t help but admire.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Johnny is experienced. He knows what he’s doing, but sometimes his enthusiasm wins out and he gets a little sloppy. If he’s absolutely lost in the pussy, he’s likely to slip out repeatedly and be a bit of a mess.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy. He loves being able to see your ass and squeeze it while he’s fucking you. Johnny also loves the fact that he can watch his cock slide in and out of you. Turns him on.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Totally goofy. He loves being silly with you before, during, and after. Even when he messes up or something goes wrong, Johnny can make a joke out of it and keep going without a second thought. But sometimes all he wants is to be deep inside you and being goofy isn’t something he’s interested in.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Carpet matches the drapes, and Johnny is groomed. He knows he’s an attractive guy, and he takes care of himself.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Johnny and intimacy are a bit of a mixed bag. When it comes to every day acts of intimacy, Johnny is pretty good. But intimacy during sex can be a little bit of a toss-up. Johnny will verbally affirm how you make him feel during the act. When he’s completely lost in your body, Johnny is more prone to murmuring and whispering how much he loves you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

When he’s with you, there really isn’t any need for Johnny to masturbate. When he’s on leave…Johnny does masturbate and he’s only ever thinking of you when he does it. It gives him plenty of time to think about all the stuff he wants to do with you when he gets back.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Spanking. He could get off just smacking and playing with your ass. Begging. Johnny loves it when you beg for his cock or his mouth. He’ll draw it out and won’t give in until he’s good and ready.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Johnny is down for any place, any time. Just say the word and he’s down.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Highly motivated. Usually all it takes it for you to give him a hint and he’s on. But Johnny is deeper than that. He adores physical touch. Passing touches, and even the intentional ones, make him yearn for you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Choking and breath play. It’s not that he isn’t completely open to it but Johnny doesn’t want to accidentally cause you harm. Your safety is important, and anything that might potentially hurt you is off the table until the two of you can figure out a safe way to do it. He might like his hand on your neck during sex, but he’d never put pressure on it or squeeze.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

An absolute giver. Johnny is ravenous when it comes to oral. He loves eating you out and hearing all the sounds you make while it happens. He equally enjoys receiving, and loves it when you take him deep.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Johnny is more on the fast and rough end. He can be slow and sensual but it is always intentional when he does. Johnny is typically steady. If he’s moving fast or even rough, it’s because he’s completely lost in you and is seeking his end.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves a good quickie. Adores them. Sometimes Johnny will just bend you over the nearest thing and have his way with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Johnny is down to take risks in the bedroom. Some of the harder stuff might be off the table, but he’ll be willing to do it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Lots of stamina. Like…an insane amount. All this man needs is to cockwarm a bit before he wants to go at it again.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Thinks they’re silly, and will be a complete goober with them if brought into the bedroom.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

An absolute tease. Johnny is unfair to the bone. He will tease and play until you’re begging for relief.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Johnny isn’t loud but he is very vocal and liberal with his moans, groans, and grunts. Johnny is a moaner at the end. Cannot change my mind about that.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Although Johnny never verbally says it, he loves watching you undress. While he loves it in an intimate capacity, he also loves it when you’re just changing your clothes or stripping before hopping into the shower. He is always in awe of you.

X = Xtra (an additional headcanon)

When he’s hitting it from the back, Johnny loves holding the back of your neck or tangling your hair in his fist and pulling lightly.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. Johnny would happily go all day and all night.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Immediately. Don’t need to say more.

taglist:

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@miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36

@pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @sapphichotmess

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@nomercyforthewarrior @dakotakazansky @talooolaaloolla @hantheconqueror @littlemisscriesherselftosleep

[writingfromasgard]

I kinda fw handler x Werewolf!Johnny.

When he does an especially good job, letting him fuck you in wolf form. Honestly you love it as much as he does, the soreness that comes with it.

You're basically a flashlight to him in that form. He likes gripping your hips, forcing you on and off his cock. You've never let him knot you. You aren't sure you'd survive. He still grinds it against your hole, thrusting it like he can force it into your body.

Sometimes it gets him too frustrated and he turns human just so he can shove his entire length - it's a weird sensation to feel the shift inside of you.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[TF141 with A Reader That Can Fall Asleep Anywhere and Anytime]

Price’s heart skips a beat when he steps into the bedroom and sees your legs on the bed while the rest of your body just dangles from the edge of the bed.

He manhandles you back onto the bed and kisses you goodnight, but his poor heart gets surprised again when he goes to the bathroom in the morning and is welcomed by the sight of you dangling your legs on the edge of the empty bathtub this time and body lies in the tub.

He picks you up and you stir, murmuring that you were brushing your teeth when he asks you why you’re sleeping in the tub, and then drift back to dream in his arms with the toothbrush in your hand.

Soap is too used to your weird sleeping habit, so when he comes home and sees you lying with your head on the couch but hanging your legs over the back of the couch, he just scoffs a laugh and carries you to bed.

“Hey Johnny” you mumble when you feel him put you on the bed.

“go back to sleep” He kisses you and goes to shower, and when he finishes and goes back to your side, he shakes his head in disbelief when he finds you lying horizontally even though he just adjusted your position into a normal human one 5 minutes ago.

Gaz wakes up in the morning and walks to the living room just to witness you standing but bend over the kitchen counter, he almost thinks you’re dead and the haziness in his mind just vanishes in a second.

“babe wake up!” he knows you’re alive but still checks if you are breathing as he wakes you up.

“goo morni kyl I -&&:@/“ and he only watches you straight up for a greeting and then slump onto the counter to sleep again, while the tea you make is beside you.

Ghost

“What do you want for dinner?” He asks when you two sit together in front of the desk, he's using his laptop while you’re reading.

“What you want for dinner love?” He says again when he doesn’ t get a response from you.

“Love?”

He turns to face you after another silence, and finally, he discovers why you're so quiet, because you fall asleep while resting your head on your hand.

He grins while taking out his phone and records you, and (luckily) he captures your head slips out of your palm and slams your face on your book as you are totally unfazed and keep snoring.

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Y/N, on the floor: Go on...without me! Soap, crying and kneeling down beside them: No! We can get through this together, just like we always do! Y/N: There's no time! You must defend our honour. Don't let my death be for nothing! Soap, sobbing: I can't do this without you! Y/N: Goodbye, old friend...*goes limp* Konig, whispering to Ghost: They do realise this is just a dodgeball game, right? Ghost, aiming at Soap: Konig, this is war. Show no mercy

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

TF141 reactions to "can you get this thing off the top shelf for me?"

inspired by @cod-dump's height hcs :)

chronologically:

you ask PRICE first. seems like a harmless enough question to you but he just says, "what kind of captain would i be if i solved all your problems for you?"

what the fuck, you think.

"you can do it," he says. "problem-solve. think tall thoughts."

then SOAP walks by, so you ask him next. he sees price standing there looking highly amused (and you looking highly irritated). soap would never, never miss an opportunity to cause problems on purpose, and if price is already picking on you, well...

you're relieved for half a second when soap reaches up and grabs the box you wanted. he opens it, grabs a handful of the granola inside (THAT YOU WANTED) and tosses it into his own mouth. then he puts the box back. on a higher shelf.

by the time GAZ notices what's happening, you're halfway climbing up the shelves to get it your damn self. he sees the shelves leaning away from the wall dangerously and obviously he pushes them back into place with one hand and pulls you back to the ground with the other. does not understand your exasperation with him; he was keeping you from cracking your head open??

so finally GHOST comes up behind you both and grabs the box you want. he turns. offers it to you. finally.

when you go to grab it from him, he keeps ahold of it and leans in. he would like you to share.

...

more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[eilidh-eternal]

“Single mom x Johnny” this, “single mom x Simon” that.

I want single dad Johnny/Simon and the single reader next door who is helplessly in love with them and their kid.

18+ MDNI

You never wanted kids. You’re convinced you would turn out to be just like your parents. That’s probably why you don’t have a ring on your finger or any sort of boyfriend or partner to speak of.

You never wanted kids.

Until Johnny goddamn MacTavish.

You’re in love with the man who always walks his little girl to school every morning, crooked pigtails flouncing with each too-big step she takes to keep stride with his long legs.

Madly in love with the way he smiles down at the tiny girl, even tinier hand held firmly in his as she dodges cracks in the pavement, and the shriek of her laughter when he lifts her by the arm, swinging her through the air to the next chunk of concrete.

Hopelessly in love with the broad shoulders he hoists her up on, little legs swinging with arms wrapped tightly around his neck and her chin resting on top of his head, blowing stray hairs of an overgrown mohawk out of her face.

Dangerously in love with the way he lets her cling to his front when it rains, like a little koala wrapped around this tree of a man who holds an umbrella in one hand and has a firm hold on her with the other.

Happy. He looks so happy with her. Like she’s the sun he orbits; the star that lights up his world.

You’re just a comet who occasionally passes them by.

——

Johnny never thought he would be doing this alone.

He’s so far out of his depth. Never even had the chance to dip his toe in the water before he was shoved into the churning ocean.

He still remembers every life-altering detail of that day. The phone call after the 16 hour flight back to base. The frantic drive to the hospital. The impossibly tiny, wailing little girl, all alone in the social workers office.

She’s all he has left of her. Of them.

His best friend. His partner in crime, for more years than he can remember. The person who understood better than anyone who he is, saw him through his darkest moments, and loved him with her whole heart.

Gone.

But he smiles for her. Because of her. Isobel is the light in the abysmal darkness that he’s drowning in. The buoy he clings to when he can no longer hold his head above the surface. She’s everything. His past, his present, and his future. And she’s sitting at the table refusing to eat her dinner.

“’s not right.” Her little nose scrunches, turns up at the meal, and she pushes the bright green plastic away, matching miniature fork sent skittering across the table by the force of it

Johnny lowers his own fork and swallows his frustration with a sigh. “‘s yer favorite. Wha’s wrong with it? ”

Her brows knit together as she studies the tray, little creases forming between them and she slumps in her booster seat. “Mommy didn’t make it.”

No. She didn’t.

Johnny was never the cook in the family. That was all her. She’d chased him out of the kitchen after he’d burnt one of her expensive pans and he was thus forth relegated to chopping, and occasionally peeling, duties.

“I know.” His chair scrapes against the floor when he pushes back from the table, moving to crouch down where she sits beside him so that he’s at eye level with her, and he pulls the fork and tray back towards her. “But mommy wouldnae want ye to go to bed hungry, aye?”

“I wan’ somethin’ else.” He watches her little bottom lip jut out, brows still pinched and face twisting into a stubborn pout.

“Wha’d’ye want?”

“Quesadilla.” She drags out the ‘ee’ sound, emphasizing her clumsy command of the foreign language in her already thick Scot’s accent.

He enjoys Mexican food. Loved the tacos Alejandro and Rudy shared with him and his team during his time in Mexico. She’d learned how to make them for his birthday.

Nowhere in Glasgow made anything like it. Not then, and not now.

“I cannae make a quesadilla, leannan.” Her little lip wobbles, eyes turn glassy, tears already welling up in the corners and threatening to spill down chubby cheeks. She sniffles, drags the backs of her hands across her eyes, and Johnny feels what’s left of his heart splinter, another little piece of it withering away to nothing with each fat tear that rolls down and collects at her chin. He unbuckles her from the booster and gathers her into his arms as he stands up, taking her with him to sit in his own chair at the table.

Her little shoulders shake, hiccuping with each muffled sob against his shoulder and tiny fingers fist the material of his shirt. “Miss ‘er,” she warbles, and his arms tighten around her small frame.

“Ah know, leannan.” More hiccups. More tears that seep through his shirt and brand his skin.

You should be here. You’re supposed to be here. With her. With him. With them.

“How ‘bout we go down to the shops? Ye can pick whatever ye want for dinner. Dinnae think they’ll have quesadillas, but I’m sure we can find somethin’ ye like.” She lifts her head from his shoulder, tips it back to peer up at him with bleary eyes and sniffles. Wipes her hand across her eyes again.

“Cheesy noodles?” It’s thin and reedy, poor little throat still tight and full of grief that he knows feels impossible to speak around.

“Aye, we can get cheesy noodles.” He brushes an errant strand of hair away from her face, tucking the unruly curl behind an ear where it probably won’t stay. Just like her mum’s. So much like her mum. She considers him, his offer, and toys with his shirt.

“And sticky pudding?”

“Whatever ye want, leannan.” She really shouldn’t have something so sugary right before bed but he doesn’t have it in him to deny her. Is just glad the tears have stopped. That she’s willing to eat, even if he has to bribe her with junk food and sweets. He sends her to put her shoes on while he cleans up in the kitchen and grabs his own shoes and keys.

——

He’s there.

He’s standing in the pasta aisle with his little girl in the buggy, smiling at the way she makes grabby hands at the dismal selection of boxed macaroni, and he pulls one down from the shelf to hand to her. She inspects it, turning it this way and that way, pointing to something on the packaging and saying something that makes him laugh.

You’re frozen in place, jar of pasta sauce halfway to the basket in your other hand, and you can’t move because the sound of his laughter causes something in your brain to misfire. Causes the electrical signals between neurons and synapses to jumble together and sets your nerves alight. You think you might really be frozen, body unwilling to move an inch away from where you stand now, by your beautiful neighbor in the middle of a goddamned Tesco, until a little voice is addressing you.

“Hi miss neighbor!” Johnny’s head whips around and when his gaze lands on you it feels like your stomach’s turned to lead. “We’re havin’ cheesy noodles f’r dinner!” She holds up the box in her hand and kicks her feet excitedly.

You’re currently kicking yourself for making what you’re sure is an expression closely resembling that of a fish out of water. Mouth agape, brows raised and eyes slightly widened in surprise. When your mouth finally remembers how to move you smile at the little girl waving her box of noodles and powdered cheese in the air. “Hello, Isobel. That sounds like a lovely dinner.”

His brows knit together, one of them quirked at a curious angle. “And how d’ the two of ye know each other?”

Isobel’s foot connects with his thigh and his head jerks back around. “She’s our neighbor. She gave me the tablet,” she whispers a little too loud, cupping a small hand in front of her mouth. He turns back to you with the same jaunty brows and a quirk to his lips.

“So ye’re the one responsible for the wee heathens late night sugar-induced marathon.”

“M-marathon?”

“Aye, she was bouncin’ round the house all night, the little devil.” He ruffles her hair and she swats at his hand.

“I- I’m so sorry. I didn’t know…” You don’t really know what you’d been thinking when you’d given her the Tupperware full of sugary confections to take home after she’d spent the morning helping you root around in the flowerbeds in front of your home. She’d been watching out the window for hours until she was suddenly right next to you, asking what you were digging for.

“‘s alright. Ye’ll just have to make up f’r it.”

It’s your turn to pinch your brows and tilt your head in confusion. “Make up for it?”

His lips part in a full, genuine smile, like the ones he gives Isobel, and your leaden stomach suddenly feels like it’s lodged in your chest, full of butterflies and other fluttering things you don’t dare to name.

“Oh aye. Reckon ye owe us a dinner since ye’ve skipped right to dessert.”

Next>>>

©️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

[midnightcrw]

Fight

Pairing: Ghost x Reader, Price x Reader, Soap x Reader, Gaz x Reader

Summary: Your child gets in trouble

a/n: This one is a little different from my usual ones, but I just felt like writing for all four of them. I'm not sure how accurate you'll all find them as I've deliberately exaggerated them, but I do believe that Gaz is a sassy man after seeing how he didn't want to shake Graves' hand. I've also named the children of the TF141, I hope that's okay with you all.

Scenario:

The moment you both heard that your child got in trouble, the first thing you two did was rush into the principal's office in fear that something happened.

And now you were both sitting in the principal's office with your child, while another child was there with his parents.

Ghost:

Your eyes widened as you heard the principal say that Daisy and another girl in her class had gotten into a physical fight.

"There was also something your daughter said that is completely unacceptable," Mr. Smith said, looking disappointed at Daisy, even though the girl apparently started the fight and your daughter was just defending herself.

"It wasn't even that bad..." Daisy muttered underneath her breath as she crossed her arms.

Simon was very quiet, but his stoic expression spoke for itself.

"Daisy, I want you to quote what you said," Mr. Smith continued, not wanting to hear another word from her unless she quoted exactly what she said to the girl.

Your daughter looked at you, a pleading look on her face but you just shook your head at her in disappointment, wanting to hear what she said.

She sighed and quoted what she had said before, "You have a face that only a mother could love."

Without missing a single beat, Simon started wheezing in his seat the moment he heard his daughter's insult to the girl.

You glared at him, "Simon!"

Trying to calm down, he put his palm on his mouth as he continued, completely ignoring the angry looks of the principal and the other family.

"Mr. Riley, I want you to calm down. This is highly inappropriate," Mr. Smith said as Simon calmed down.

A few seconds of silence passed between you all before your beloved husband opened his mouth.

"Did you win?"

"Simon!?"

Price:

It felt like hours as the girl's parents and the girl herself ranted and raved about the fact that your daughter Sophie punched her.

At first you had both been shocked, completely angry at your daughter until the parents opened their mouths to speak.

You almost fell asleep listening to the mother go on and on about how her daughter's nose was bleeding because of Sophie.

Price, on the other hand, sat still in his seat, listening to the whole thing, not having said a word since he walked into the principal's office.

"Your daughter should be suspended!" The father said, glaring at Sophie.

Mr. Smith didn't even get a single chance to say anything, as they continued.

Slowly, Price seemed to lose his patience and turned his head towards you and your daughter.

He whispered, "Punch her harder next time."

"What?" The principal asks.

"Nothing."

Price says as Sophie giggles at her dad.

You tried to stifle your grin by putting a hand over your mouth, just hoping that the parents would shut up soon.

Soap:

Your son sat between the two of you, his nose bleeding and his face bruised as he frowned at the boy and his parents.

You were extremely worried as you put a hand on your son, Callum's arm, and quietly asked him if he was hurt anywhere else.

Callum just shook his head, not wanting to speak while Soap was already getting bored listening to all of the talking the principal was doing.

"It doesn't matter if he started insulting him because Callum was the one who got violent," Mr. Smith said as you tried to defend your son.

The boy obviously looked much worse than Callum. His hair was disheveled and his face was bruised. His nose was also bleeding, as was his lower lip.

It looked like your son had done some damage.

"What exactly did he do?" Soap asked, wanting to know exactly how Callum had hit the boy.

As Mr. Smith explained what your son had done, Soap's eyes lit up and a smile appeared on his face.

"I'm so proud of you, you used the punch I taught you," Soap said, extremely pleased that Callum had listened and actually used the things he had taught him.

Callum grinned at his dad's antics as you put your face in your hands, sighing and muttering "Why did I marry this idiot..."

Gaz:

You were shocked to hear what your son, Ethan, had done to the boy.

Mr. Smith was obviously upset and angry that Ethan had acted so childishly, and immediately got into a physical fight the moment the boy wouldn't stop insulting him.

You felt the headache already pounding in your head as you rubbed your temple, completely out of it.

Ethan didn't really say anything, he just listened to everything that was said.

The boy's parents glared at the three of you, never once looking away.

The boy that insulted your son, looked angry, obviously still being pissed at the fact that Ethan punched him, even though he himself started with the insults.

Gaz was not even shocked, sitting there with his hand holding up his head up as he looked extremely uninterested in the principal's endless speech.

Rolling his eyes, Gaz moved closer to you and Ethan as he whispered.

"Did you break any of his bones?"

"No."

"Good, because I'm not paying anything in this economy."

[mimisplayground]

giving yall a little more heavy handed soap (NO TYPOS THIS TIME) until i drop the fic!!

Heavy handed Soap who gives you a hug when he gets back from deployment, the rest of the boys laugh - even Simon let out a chuckle - as the scot pats your back and nearly winds you.

Bruises forever decorating your thighs and hips. Occasionally on your neck from when you’ve begged him for a hand there. He’s aware of his strength, only putting his grip on the back of your neck so he isn’t choking you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful you are. Best thing I could’ve asked for,” as he’s got you in a chokehold, one arm cushioning your neck and his other hand gripping your hips.

Calling you a strong thing for handling him pummeling your insides from behind, promises that once you cum he’ll flip you into the meanest mating press you’ve ever been in.

Doesn’t matter if you can get pregnant. He cares more about the way he gets to watch your face screw up as you scream when his hands are wrapped strong around your thighs while he hits all your most sensitive spots.

[mphoenix-7]

Bitter Allies [Soap x Reader]

Chapter 2: The Heat of Battle

Summary: John "Soap" MacTavish has hated you since the very first day you arrived on base and joined their Task Force. You argue all the time, and one day, it pushes Captain Price to his absolute limit. He sends you both away to an isolated cabin in the woods for a week in hopes you can put aside your differences and bond. Will it work? Or will you two just end up hating each other even more?

This is a slow burn enemies to lovers fan fiction featuring Soap and you, the reader.

Word Count: 4,427

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Soap is mean, like really mean, smut later to come, rough smut, lots of swearing, violence, descriptive, blood, angst, fluff, slow burn, (more to come as I write)

A/N: This seems to be doing fairly well on here, so I’m going to post a few more chapters that are out currently on Wattpad. If it gets a big enough following, I’ll keep updating. Just a reminder my Wattpad username is Emily7love, and you can find Bitter Allies there as well!

Masterlist | <- Previous | Next ->

Bitter Allies • Part 2

The rifle kicked back hard against your shoulder as the first bullet excited the barrel of the gun. The silencer on the end did its job at making sure the discharge was hardly heard. However, it became obvious very quickly to the group of four men that they were under attack. As soon as the first man had been shot, they were all alerted.

The first shot you fired was a direct hit to the man's head, and he went down quick. You quickly snapped over to the guy standing on the left, also hitting that target successfully. Already you'd proved Soap wrong. However, this was where things got difficult.

In any kind of armed combat, seconds greatly mattered. Eliminating two targets was easy as long as you could land the shots. By the time the second guy realized something was up, only one second has passed, and by then he was mostly likely already gone. The third guy, however, had a lot more time to react, and the fourth even more so.

Two clean head shots, but by then, the other two had reacted. One was moving to cover and the other stood his ground, weapon raised right at you. A trigger pull away from death, but in this profession, that was always the case.

Their movement disrupted the zig-zag pattern you had hoped on making, forcing you to take additional seconds when aiming at the third guy. You originally had gone for the one running for cover to stop him from alerting other troops, but then your attention shifted to the guy who was looking at you from down his own barrel. That now became your top priority and costed you even more seconds due to switching targets.

You were pretty lucky. You managed to fire before the guy's finger could put enough pressure on the trigger. The shots were sloppy, but three clean hits to the torso did the job.

Once he was downed, you did a quick scan of the area, looking for the fourth guy. He'd no doubt already contacted someone else, blowing your cover. Your heart had already been hammering away in your chest but now it seemed to thump even harder at the realization you'd just completely screwed up this mission.

You keep your weapon raised in a firing position but allow your head to hang down, eyes squeezed shut. Your grip on your gun tightens, prepared any second now to hear the alarms go off, signaling something was wrong. The mission would just have to go on though. Albeit much more dangerous now, but it still needed to continue.

"Fuck, (y/n)..." You mutter to yourself. "Just find Soap and get to cover... You've survived worse-"

Not even ten seconds after you dumped the third target, you heard a soft thump and saw the fourth target laying dead up ahead. A knife was embedded into his neck, blood pooling rapidly in the dirt. A split second later, Soap emerged from behind the cover, ripping his knife from the target's throat with a swift, practiced motion. His icy gaze locked onto you, and with a flick of his wrist, he sent a spray of blood across the dirt. He sheathed his knife and strode toward you, each step radiating fury.

Before you knew it, he was grabbing a fist full of your uniform and slamming you back against the vehicle you'd been using for cover. You hoped the sound of your back hitting the metal door didn't attract any attention.

"What the fuck was that, States?!" He yelled at you as loudly as he dared given your current location. "The fucking hell were you thinking?? You nearly just blew our damn cover! Are you that much of a pure hackit that you can't follow fucking orders?!" He was seething mad, his accent noticeable thicker. This is probably the worst you've ever seen him, and you've seen Soap mad a lot. Still, you had some venom of your own.

"You are not my superior. You can't give me orders." You growl, hands coming up to grip his as they kept you pinned. You kept your eyes on his, refusing to break eye contact with him.

"Oh, can't I? Last I checked you weren't even a permanent member of this team." He smirks back, voice quieter now, but still just as dangerous.

"Still a member of this team, dumbass."

"You think you will be after this?"

His words hung heavy with you. Would Price really kicked you off the team for this? Nothing happened, you and Soap were alive, and the mission hadn't been compromised. Still, taking on four men by yourself when your field partner didn't want to wasn't exactly working as a team. Then again the same could be said for Soap not being willing to go with your plan.

"Nothing happened. I landed two perfect headshots and took down the third all by myself. We were fine." You try to defend yourself, foolishly getting caught up in trying to prove Soap wrong and forgetting about the fourth guy.

"Doesn't matter if you landed three perfect fucking head shots if the fourth one fucks us over, now does it!? What about the fourth guy, huh? What about him, States?! He was a second away from radioing for help. You almost cost us the entire mission and put us both at risk! You're up a pure dafty." He was still gripping your vest tightly, keeping you pressed back against the vehicle.

"Well that wouldn't have been a problem if you had just trusted me, and if we took them out together like I wanted to." You bite back. "And you were wrong. You said I couldn't land those headshots, and I did."

"You still on about that? So you got lucky! You're still bloody inconsistent. You make one half decent shot and then fuck up the next ten. Just like you did on that third and fourth target."

"Well that's what I have a teammate for! To help me take down targets! And you got him, so what's the big deal?"

Soap laughs at you then, a stressed and angry laugh. His head tips back slightly, and he shakes it. "That's your idea of teamwork?" He laughs, meeting your eyes again. "Forcing me to have to rush into a kill? How the hell did someone like you ever pass selection? You are horrible at this job, States. Just pack up and go home before you get actual good soldiers killed." With that, he finally releases you, roughly letting go of your vest but still remaining in front of you.

His words hurt. They made you tremble with rage. Your hands were balled up into fists at your side as you held back the urge to punch him. "You'd like that very much, wouldn't you?" You growl back to him, standing your ground as Soap takes two steps closer to you, his face practically inches from your own.

"Very much so." He nods, a little intimidating as he looked down at you.

"Well it's not going to happen. You are never going to make me leave. So get used to me being around, you hackit." You weren't even really sure what that word meant, but if Soap called you it, you knew it probably wasn't a nice thing to say.

Soap scoffs at you as you say the Scottish word. "You are the most stubborn and-"

"Bravo 7-1, Bravo 7-4, this is Bravo 0-7, give me sit rep." Ghost's voice crackled in your ear, and Soap's as well, cutting him off. You'd been quiet for too long.

Right as you brought a hand up to your radio to answer Ghost, Soap grabbed your wrist. "This isn't over, States." He warns, his voice filled with promise as he pushed your hand away from your radio. He then brought his free hand to his radio and answered Ghost.

"Ran into some trouble thanks to States. We're clear now. Still need to make entry."

"Copy," Ghost answers. "Got word there's some Russian vehicles about ten clicks out. We've got about fifteen minutes before we need to get off the mark."

"Shite." Soap curves. That wasn't going to be enough time. You still needed to make entry and disable their security. Even if you and Soap were quick and ran into no problems, that didn't leave enough time for the Alpha teams to come in, secure General Azamat, and leave before those Russian vehicles showed up.

"Ghost, that's not gonna be enough time." Soap tells him, backing away from you and pacing a little. His face was concentrated, forgetting about everything that happened earlier and focusing on the mission now.

"If we pull out now, we miss our chance," Ghost warns, his voice low and steady. "They'll know someone messed with their generators, and security will tighten up. Next time will be a hell of a lot harder."

"Then what's the plan?" Soap asks, sounding frustrated. This mission was going belly up very quickly.

Then you got an idea. "Ghost, send Alpha team to the front to draw their attention. That will pull most of the men in the camp to that area. Meanwhile, Soap and I will infiltrate the building, disable security, and secure General Azamat. You mentioned he'd most likely be inside this building, right? Once we have him, we'll need an exfil ready at the back of the camp. Disabling the main building's systems should open the back gate. Once we're out, Alpha team can pull back."

Without even giving Soap the opportunity to input his feedback, Ghost approved your plan. "Solid Plan B. Sending in Alpha Team now. Russian vehicles are nine clicks out. Move fast."

"Copy." You nod, glancing up at Soap. He still looked at you like how he always did, but something was different. You didn't know if it was a good or bad different though. It only lasted a few seconds before his usually hard and familiar expression returned.

"This doesn't change anything." He growls, as gunfire can be heard behind you, near the front of the camp.

Instantly, shouts can be heard from the West Building, and the quiet camp became alive. The area with all the tents where Soap wanted to cut through earlier start to rustle as men wake up to join the fight. In an effort not to get caught, Soap quickly runs over to one of the parked vehicles and pulls the door open.

"Inside! Now!" He hurriedly tells you, standing out of the way so you could get in first. Moving fast, you jump inside, feeling Soap give up a push to help boost you into the vehicle before getting in himself and closing the door. He pulls out his pistol, and you do the same, making sure to cock it.

"Get behind the driver's side seat and stay low." He tells you, wiggling a bit to try and fit himself into the same position behind the passenger's side. Him being bigger and more bulkier than you made it a lot harder for him to wedge in there comfortably.

A few seconds later, two men are getting into the vehicle from the driver and passenger side. You and Soap both duck down further once you hear the car door's open. The second they shut, you're moving. Like you'd been fighting together for years, you both wordlessly spring up and shoot the men in the side of the head.

From inside the vehicle, you can see and hear the others driving off, as well as see the area clearing out. You try to wait it out for as long as you can until the door by Soap open up. Another solider just thinking the vehicle was waiting for more passengers and trying to get in. He lets out a surprised yell at seeing Soap there, but is quickly silenced. Soap shoots him, shoves the dead body back, and then closes the door.

"Out your side!" He says, knowing that was going to attract a lot of attention from the few stragglers still trying to wake up and join the action. You quickly do as he says, pushing the door open and tumbling out with Soap right behind you. Without looking back to see how many enemies are in pursuit, you sprint for the West Building, focusing solely on reaching cover. Though how much safety and cover you'd find in that building, you didn't bank on it being much.

Surprisingly, there aren't any bullets being fired towards you as you run. Either the men hadn't seen you somehow, or they thought you were on the same side. Regardless, you weren't going to question it as you burst through the door with Soap, weapons raised.

The hallways were empty aside from two men, which Soap quickly took out. Once somewhat safe, you radioed in to Ghost. "Bravo 7-1 and 4 inside now. Heading to main security room to disable it."

"Copy. Seven clicks." Ghost updates. "Give 5 minutes for exil."

"Roger," Soap confirms before moving to the stairs. "Behind me. I'll take point." He tells you, starting up the steps with his weapon raised. You follow behind him closely, watching your six and trusting Soap to guide you up. The security panel you needed to access was on the top floor of the building, which was the third floor.

The stairs were clear, which made sense. Most of the men were probably filing down the stairs near the front since that's where all the action was. The security room, however, was not empty. As you approached the door, you could hear voices speaking Russian on the other side.

"I hear at least five." You say, making Soap give you a look as he position himself on the other side of the doorframe.

"There's no fucking way you can count how many there are based on voices." He claims, pulling out one of his flashbang grenades. "Flash out." He opens the door a crack and tosses it inside, waiting for the loud bang. As soon as it goes off, he kicks the door open and pushes in. He takes on the targets more directly in front and left while you focus on the ones to the right and to the far side of the room.

The room was clear in seconds. "Clear." Soap confirms, lowering his gun and making his way quickly to the panel. "There were more than five." He mutters, pulling out some bombs and securing them to different places on the panel.

"I said at least five." You point out with an eye roll, keeping your attention on the door that lead into the room.

"That just sounds like a lucky guess then." He claims, backing away from the panel. "Clear out. Charges are set." He tells you, pulling your attention over to the flashing red lights of the bombs he's just placed. You were about to do what he told you before your attention was pulled to the screen.

"Wait. Look." You tell him, walking over to the screen and pointing to it. "This is a map of the building. Look at this room down here. It's a bunker. I bet that's where our General is." You say. "Bet it's locked up. Hold off on blowing the charges until we're down there. Once the power goes out, the doors should open and we can take him by surprise."

Soap is hesitant, his jaw tight before he finally mutters a, "fine." Then instead of talking to you further, he radios in to Ghost. "Bravo 0-7, charges are set. We suspect Azamat's holed up in a bunker in this building. Moving to position by the bunker doors and then we'll blow the charge."

"Roger. Five clicks."

With that, you and Soap quickly make your way back down to the first floor to locate the bunker. Time was not on your side, so you needed to move fast. You of course ran into more resistance along the way. That was to be expected. Soap though, ever true to his callsign, breezed through it like it was nothing. It was like he'd gotten to practice and memorized the course ahead of time. He looked so in his element, almost like he was having fun. It was a nice change from the usual sour attitude he had around you. And for once, you were actually sort of working with him like you would Ghost or Gaz. Given the chaotic nature of the mission probably had a lot to do with that, but you hoped this would finally mark a breakthrough point with the Scot.

Once you'd gotten to the room where the bunker was supposed to be, all you needed to do was find it, blow the charges, and get the General. To your utter joy, the bunker was the most obvious thing in the room. A big metal door with a flashing red light above it. You took up the same positions you did last time at the security room as Soap pulled out the detonator.

"Bravo 0-7, we are outside the bunker and getting ready to blow the charges. Send in exfil." Soap updates Ghost.

"Done. Take the General the alive. Three and a half clicks."

Soap looks to you then. "When I blow this, all the lights are going to go out. Once I get the door open, throw a flash in. And for the love of sweet Jesus, do not kill Azamat."

You scowl at him, irritated that he was talking to you still like you were some lousy, trigger happy marine. Guess things haven't changed too much. "Yeah. I went to all the mission briefs and literally heard Ghost say that three seconds ago. I haven't forgotten."

"So she does listen. Shocker." As he speaks, he holds the detonator up and then presses the button, not giving you the chance to reply. There's a loud explosion upstairs, one that makes the building shake a little bit. The lights immediately power off, and you lower the night vision goggles attached to your helmet.

The red light above the door flickers a few times before going out, and the locks click loudly as they release. There's shouting heard from inside as the people in there start to panic. You ready a flashbang as Soap heaves the door open, and once there's a crack big enough for the flashbang, you toss it inside. There's a loud pop as it goes out and a bright flash of light. It causes the people inside to scream and spew out what you can only assume are curses in Russian.

As Soap finishes pushing the door open, you take point, able to see the room and the people inside thanks to the night vision goggles. You identify General Azamat instantly and work on taking out anyone in the room who posed a threat.

You aim at the heads of the men inside, but they were wearing helmets, making it more difficult to land decent shots. The flashbang had made them all very disoriented, buying you more time to actually line up the shots.

Soon, all the guards around General Azamat were downed, and Soap charged the General, who was pulling a pistol from his holster. You hear the grunt from Soap as he rams the General against the wall. There's a struggle as Soap forces the gun to point upwards and six bullets are rapidly discharged from the pistol. Once the gun is only making clicking sounds, signaling an empty clip, Soap punches the General, sending him to the ground.

"Stay the fuck down!" He growls at the General as he goes to restrict his hands behind his back. The voice he was using sounded familiar to the one he used with you when you argued.

The General curses Soap out in Russian, and you go to help him secure the target. Right as you kneel down to help though, Soap pushes you away.

"Cover the door in case-"

The room is filled with the sound of gunfire, and bright flashes come from the doorway. Soap gets hit and falls back, gasping, as you quickly raise your gun and return fire. The guy shooting hadn't been wearing any chest plates and went down with a few shots. As soon as it was clear again, you grab at the General, who was trying to get up now that Soap wasn't holding him down.

"Soap! Oh my God, are you ok?!" You ask, wanting to check on him, but you couldn't let go of the general. You see him from the corner of your eye, lying back, and can hear him gasping still. You worried his injuries were fatal. Sure, you couldn't stand Soap, but you didn't want him to die either.

Then, he leans forward and grabs at General Azamat. "Hit... the plate.." He gasps out, getting his breath back slowly. A second later, he'd pushed through the pain and pressed his pistol into Azamat's head.

"Stop moving, fucker! Get up!" He commands, hooking his free arm around his restrained ones and hauling him to his feet. "Walk!" He shouts once the General is up, giving him a harsh push and keeping the gun aimed at him.

"Who are you?" The General asks, his accent heavy as Soap pushes him out of the bunker. You take point, still a bit shaken up from Soap being shot.

"Shut the hell up and walk!" He growls, opting to grab a handful of the back of the General's suit and push him along instead. It was faster that way. While you make your way out of the West Building back the way you came, you radio to Ghost.

"Bravo 0-7, this is Bravo 7-4. Target secure. Repeat, target is secure. Heading to exfil now."

"Ah. An American." You hear Azamat say, earning a rough shove from Soap.

"I said shut up!”

"Copy that 7-4," Ghost replies. "Exfil in two minutes. Russians are one click out. Move it. Alpha team is pulling back."

"This is gonna be close." Soap mutters under his breath. He begins to pick up the pace a bit, or as much as he can while dragging along a General who didn't want to go with you.

Once outside, you're practically running to the gates, shooting at anyone you can. There was hardly any cover and more and more men seemed to be popping up. About halfway to the exit, you can see bullets hitting the dirt by your feet and hear them wizz past you. This was definitely the most dangerous position you'd been in during your whole career. At least in the other firefights you'd been in, you had your entire squad behind you. This time, it was just you and Soap.

A gargling yelling sound makes you look back, and you see the General is hunched over and falling to his knees. Soap is trying to get him back up, but he's not moving.

"Fuck! He's been shot." Soap notices, seeing red begin to stain his tan uniform. "States, keep moving!" He shouts over the gunfire, hoisting the General over his shoulder and continuing the run.

Your heart is pounding loudly in your ears, adrenaline the only thing keeping your legs moving. Before you know it though, you're through the gate, and you can see your exfil vehicle ahead.

"There it is!" You shout to Soap. "Almost there!" You push harder, your lungs burning. Someone from the passenger side of your exfil vehicle jumps out and opens your door. You pile in first and then help drag the General in as Soap gets him in the car. As bullets start to spray against the side of the vehicle, Soap jumps in. He is practically on top of the General, and slams his door shut.

"Go, go, go!!" Soap yells to the driver. You hear bullets showering the side of the vehicle, and the driver floors it, making you grip tightly onto the handle on the ceiling.

Once you can't hear the bullets hitting the metal doors of the vehicle anymore, you sigh a breath of relief. This mission had been a lot harder than you thought it was going to be. And it wasn't even over yet.

"States, help me sit him up." Soap says, getting your attention and pulling you out of your daze. You do as he asks, moving Azamat out from under Soap to the seat in the middle. Once he's sitting up, you can see his face has paled significantly and there was blood all over the seat and his suit.

"Shite.." Soap cures as you instantly start to apply pressure to the man's stomach. "Ghost, we have General Azamat and are on our way to the rendezvous. He's been shot though and is losing a lot of blood."

"Copy that. Keep him breathing. I'll have medical on standby. What about you and States?"

"We're good." He answers, turning his attention on the man's wound now. "Aside from feeling like I took a bullet to my chest. Oh wait, that did happen." Soap mutters, looking at you angrily.

You look up from where your hands are currently placed on the General's side, blood gushing out from between your fingers. You meet Soap's gaze and glower at him.

"Seriously? You're going to blame me for you getting shot in the plate?" Though of course he was going to blame that on you. Cause why wouldn't he?

"It's one hundred percent your fault! Someone needed to cover the door!" Soap was grabbing a med kit from under the seat and violently opening it to get some medical supplies.

"Are you fucking- you know what? No. I'm not doing this with you right now. This dude is bleeding out, and I'm not going to have you distract me and then blame this dude dying on me! Give me those fucking bandages!" You rip them from his hand and start stuffing the wound, making the General moan in protest.

"Whatever, States. Fuck you too."

You don't say a word to each other after that. The only words spoken are by you trying to keep the General awake, Soap talking to Ghost over the comms, or the occasion word or two from the guys in the front seats, talking to the other teams.

You couldn't wait to get to the helo, hand General Azamat off to the medical staff, and then get away from Soap.