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gloomwitchwrites · 18 hours ago

Note

I would love to read an imagine of TF141 and what they’d do together with the reader on vacation and you can choose any destination of your choice! Hot topical to glaciers!

Thank you!

I could have gone spicy with this. The fact that I didn't is a testament to my self-control. While there is a little heat, most of this is just straight up fluff. It's all cuteness. Good feelings only. Pure comfort. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, fluff, flirting, kissing, mild suggestive themes, brief mention of alcohol

Word Count: 1k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

The stars above you are white against the dark sky. The crisp, cool Pacific Northwest air sends a slight chill across your skin. A shiver passes over you, and you snuggle closer to John, seeking his warmth. He sighs contentedly, arm tightening as you press into his side. The swimming dock rocks softly, lulling you toward sleep.

It’s quiet out on the lake. No lights. No noise. It’s nice to get away from everything—to spend time with your husband that doesn’t involve home.

“I’m happy we came, John,” you sigh.

“You like the cabin?”

You nod. “It’s peaceful.”

John's lips lightly press against your temple. "I'm happy you joined me."

Whenever John leaves for a trip to the cabin, it’s almost always a hunting or fishing trip with his team. Even they need to cool off after a mission. But John didn’t ask them to come. He brought you to his favorite place.

His fingers lightly curve under your chin, tilting your head upward. Closing the distance, John greets you with a kiss that melts you down to your toes.

He smiles softly. “Up for a little swim?”

You laugh. “It’s a bit chilly. And it’s dark!”

John grins and then pushes up to his feet, removing his clothes until he’s down to absolutely nothing. His pale butt is on full display in the moonlight.

"John!" you protest, but he’s already diving in.

You sit up, startled, watching the rippling dark water. A beat, and then he resurfaces. “Join me.”

With heat rising in your cheeks, you follow his lead. You do not dive as gracefully.

As you resurface, treading water, John cozies up to your, reaching for you beneath the surface. Your legs wrap around his middle, the two of you silently floating under the stars. The water is cold but you hardly care. John is warm, and so are his kisses.

They are cute at first, little peaks that become deeper, making your core clench with anticipation. The chilly water is a distant thing in your mind. All you know is John, and this moment, and all the days you have ahead with him.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s hot in Miami. The beach is packed.

But Kyle is uncaring of the crowd, too busy with the remote-control toy excavator you bought him just for this beach trip.

“How’s the digging?” you ask, flipping a page in your book. You lounge under an oversized umbrella.

Kyle moves the joystick with his thumb. The yellow toy excavator picks up a chunk of sand and dumps it to the side. “I’m going to have the biggest hole on the beach.”

You nod, and lightly pat his shoulder, returning to your book.

There are a few minutes of silence between you before Kyle puts the remote control down and turns to look at you.

“What?” you prompt as Kyle continues to stare.

“I’m bored. Wanna go play mermaids in the ocean?”

Inserting the bookmark, you close your book and set it aside. “Absolutely I do.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“I’ve never done this before, Johnny.”

“I know, love. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Johnny holds your hands in his. "Being scared is nothing to be ashamed of."

Before you is a mountainous slope covered in snow. Plenty of people are already on it, descending to the bottom on skis and snowboards. Some are lightning fast with others meander slowly. It looks fun—really, it does—but this is completely new to you.

When Johnny said vacation in the Alps, you didn’t think this. You were imagining a fancy cabin with nice food, a hot tub in the snow, and steamy sex next to a roaring fire.

“I’ll hold on to you. The whole way down. We’ll do this together.”

“You won’t let me fall?”

Johnny’s gloved hands squeeze yours in reassurance. “It’s just the bunny hill.”

“For children. I’m not a child.” "Oh, aye. It's for wee ones. But also, for newbies. Besides, I'll be with ya." He winks. "Won't let anything happen."

"That is not reassuring," you mutter, the snowboard wobbling slightly under your feet.

Johnny is the only thing keeping you upright. He grips you tightly, completely at ease in the snow.

“Do you promise?” you ask.

Johnny releases one of your hands to move his goggles into place. He lightly taps his helmet against yours.

“Promise.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Her sisters are in Greece."

"You Brits like to steal everything."

Simon chuckles. "Throw a rock in here and you'd hit something that came from somewhere else."

He steps away from the statue, turning to move on to another. You follow him, trying to see what he sees.

“I wouldn’t take you for the museum type.”

"Why?" asks Simon, arching an eyebrow.

You gesture at him, and Simon snorts. “Fair point,” he replies, glancing down at himself. He looks more ready to jump on the back of a sportbike rather than tour a museum.

Simon moves on to a new statue, head titled slightly as he peers up at it. “I like museums. They’re calm. Quiet. I can take my time. No one needs me. No one expects anything from me.”

He says it so casually, but you hear the underlying sigh. There is something heavy beneath it. A weight he carries but you can’t identify what it may be.

“I can be here for hours,” he murmurs.

“So…no pub crawls?”

Simon attempts to stifle a laugh. “Love a good pub crawl. Johnny and I go on them all the time. He always thinks he can out drink me.”

“Does he?”

“Never,” grins Simon.

He holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers. You slide your hand into his, the warmth of him chasing away your worry.

Simon pulls you in close, two of you leaving the statues behind.

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starsofang · 3 days ago

Text

CALL OF THE SEA / PART TWENTY

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, brief violence/gore, some heat ngl, some inaccuracies but it is indeed fiction masterlist a/n: let's pretend i'm not a day late and act like this is a surprise. surpriiiise!

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

There was a strange sensation deep within your core when you began to gain consciousness. A lingering feeling, something that tugged you in an undiscoverable direction. It felt like a string, pulling at you, luring you to someplace unknown when you couldn’t begin the venture to discover it.

It nagged at you in your sleep and only grew more bothersome when you woke.

Your surroundings were unfamiliar when you opened your eyes. The room you were in was small. The walls appeared to be made out of old wood that had seen better days, the telltale sign of withering as if rain had been its slow destroyer.

A candle-lit lantern sat beside you on a table, flickering daunting shadows along the walls. Besides that, a messy desk was filled with scattered pages, scribbled with words you couldn’t decipher. Perched along the wall on the desk, a collection of various jars and glasses sat, each filled with contents you couldn’t recognize.

It was dim and cold, only a furry pelt covering you from the hips down while your arms rose with goosebumps from the lingering chill in the room. The cot you laid on was far from comfortable, though the only thing it caused was an ache in your back that pinched when you moved.

The more you observed your surroundings, the more it began to look eerily similar to your old room back in your village. The strange jars, the unkempt work on the desk—it all felt so familiar, as if you had teleported back to your room in a dream.

A brief spike of fear rose within you when you noticed that you were alone. Your crew was nowhere to be found, nor were there any clues as to whether or not you were trapped within another nightmare that had shifted from its usual storyline.

Instinct led you to move, quick to lift the heavy pelt from off your body. Except, when you pulled it off, the first thing you noticed was how little your discomfort was from moving. As a matter of fact, there was none of it at all—only soreness from lying so still for God knows how long.

The crushing pain that you’d been tortured with had ceased to exist, as well as the hairs on your neck no longer standing up as if a shadow had been behind you at all times, lurking.

You lifted a careful hand, slowly inching it to your injury—only to realize it didn’t hurt. Your fingertips brushed against your skin, cool to the touch whereas before it was flush and warm. You dared to even dig your fingers lightly into you, washed over with surprise when nothing bit back at you.

You don’t recall much from when you last fell into sleep to now. It was hazy, like a misty fog was clouding up the chambers of your mind. The only thing that you could sense was that lingering pit of familiarity, as well as a touch of something weary that made your heart beat just a little bit faster.

You threw your legs over the side of the cot, standing on shaky legs that forgot the act of balance for a brief moment. It felt new to stand on your own once again with little struggle after having been trapped in Price’s bed for long enough that it tested your sanity. There was none telling just how long you’d been cooped up on this new, mysterious cot, either.

Testing the waters, you slowly contorted your body into a long, healthy stretch, feelings your tender muscles and rattled bones shift and pop. While you were entirely joyful to be back on your feet, it raised the question of how.

Whatever injury you had that had been injected with a ruthless venom that Graves bestowed to you shouldn’t have you healed so quickly, even with a visit to a medical off shore. You knew how impossible it truly was. Healing would’ve taken weeks, if not months.

So how on Earth were you standing, unharmed?

“You look well.”

Nearly jumping out of your skin, you turned to see an unfamiliar woman stepping into the makeshift hut. She was old and withered, wrinkles lining her face, but her eyes were kind, albeit tired. She was a small thing, almost what one would imagine at the mention of a witch, like stories you’d heard as a child. Silly ones, anyway.

Her shoulders were hefty with a smaller pelt than the one you had around you, its fur as dark as night. Her clothes were otherworldly, as if she’d gathered random fabrics and threw them together on a whim. Nothing about her seemed ordinary. Dare you say, she reminded you of Mary.

She was a stranger, yet you felt compelled to feel at ease.

“Who are you?” you asked, suspicious.

She smiled a toothy grin, gaps staring back at you. “Your boys brought you here to get you fixed up. How do you feel?”

You wiggled your fingers and toes for good measure before responding, “I am alright, but I fear I do not understand.”

The woman stepped further into the room, taking slow paces. Her age was undetectable, but the stark grays in her hair told you she was much, much older.

“There is much I do not understand either,” she replied. She made her way to the cot you were laid upon, taking a seat on the edge.

Your eyes followed her every move, remaining frozen in place. You dared not to move away in fear of offending her, nor closer out of weariness.

“I do not know why you’ve come all this way when this was something you could’ve done yourself. Dove, is it?” she asked.

The name had you tensing, and before you could grow concerned, she stopped you. “That is all they call you. Dove this, dove that—it was not hard to figure out.”

You slowly let your guard fall back down, but only slightly. Price would not allow them to take you to someone they did not trust to leave you alone with. Then again, it rose the question—where were they?

“I am confused,” you muttered, furrowing your eyebrows.

“About which part?” she questioned. The lingering tone felt a bit like a tease, as if she knew she was ruffling a few feathers. “Not to worry. They are resting in beds I’ve prepared for them. You had a long journey, I heard.”

She gave you no reason to doubt, but you could not be blamed for doing so anyway. You were in a strange place, healed far too quickly for normalcy with your crew out of sight. Graves embedded that fear within you, following you everywhere you went like a menace.

“How did you do this?” You gestured to your side, where the dress you wore was torn to reveal the once tarnished skin while the rest hanged loosely off your body. It hurt to know the dress was ruined, but it was the least of your worries. “This is not a possible heal. It would have been a process for me to properly recover. I would like an explanation.”

The woman looked surprised, raising her thin eyebrows and glancing between you and your bare skin. “You do not know?”

“Pardon?” You threw her a just as bewildered look.

“That is why you have come all this way?” she asked. “Because you do not know?”

“I am not quite following,” you confessed, deflating.

“The gift,” she remarked. “You do not feel it?”

“I do not know of this gift you are speaking of,” you retorted. Being hidden in the dark just like Price had done to you before was sparking something in you. You were growing impatient.

The woman tapped her long fingernail against her chin, muttering to herself. The flashy rings adorning her fingers winked back at you. “You feel something, don’t you?” she asked, waggling her finger. “That sense of knowing, like you have been here before. There is something here that seems… familiar. Am I correct?”

Her tone held a touch of accusation, as if she knew she was reading you like a book. You narrowed your eyes at her, setting your jaw taut, just as Price would do when presenting himself as tough.

“I am not a woman who entertains mind games,” you uttered, putting on a brave front. “If you are to explain a thing to me, it should be with haste.”

She smiled, contrasting the soft edges around her eyes that gave them a subtle sweetness. With the gaps in her teeth, they were unkempt, a hint of decay rotting around the edges.

“You have spirit,” she noted, seemingly pleased rather than annoyed. “You will need it if you are to be a healer, of course.”

“How did you know that?” you accused, stiffening.

Though you didn’t know her, she acted like she knew you. As if you’d been friends for ages, reading you like an open page, bookmarking your inner workings inside her head. You didn’t know how to feel, but you knew it didn’t feel great.

“That is what you are,” she said ecstatically. As she spoke, she stood, stepping towards you with her finger jammed in your face. “That is the gift I speak of. The hands of a sorceress, gifted with the God’s will to heal. You are nature’s force, one who shall lead others to the way of fortune. You do not feel it?”

This woman must be crazy. She was speaking of pure sorcery, the very thing had landed you with shattered bones and an infection so malicious, it tore you from the inside out.

You glanced at your hands, stretching your fingers and furling them into fists. They certainly did not look like magic hands, nor ones given a blessing. You weren’t buying it, though, how would you have been healed so quickly?

The more you thought about it, the more the dots connected. Though the idea was outlandish, it wouldn’t be the only odd thing you’d experienced—Graves was a paradox on his own.

The desire you had since childhood to help others, going as far as to be deemed as the outcast of the village in order to venture into the world of medicines and herbs, made sense. The urge to heal more than your ability, though only a mere pupil in the works, was always an overwhelming one, something you wished you could pursue.

Performing your job above and beyond, healing the sick and poor. Just as the prophecy stated.

When the realization hit you, your breath caught in your throat, eyes blowing wide.

Graves targeted you because you were the medic spoken of in the prophecy. Everything Price had thought, down to the day he captured you, was right. Whereas he was searching for a medic, somehow, he knew it was you. Rather than killing you like he’d done many others, he brought you upon his ship and invested his faith in you.

“How?” you asked, choking on a breath. “How has this happened?”

“It does not simply happen, child,” she explained, satisfied. “The Gods choose who they deem fit. It is them who bestow the gift upon us. They seek the ones who hold purity and good. Your soul was bright in your past life, shining the way for others who could never escape a world of darkness. This is what you’ve been given in return.”

You were given the information far too quickly. It was difficult to swallow, knowing others were depending on you. Of course, that’s what you wanted all your life—but the truest part of it was much more heavier than you’d like it to be.

“Us?” you repeated back, confused. “Tell me you do not mean—”

“We are sisters in that aspect, child.”

“That is how I am able to stand right now?” Your fingers grazed your healed skin again, taking in the smoothness. Not a scar or bump left. “It was you?”

“You are not the only one of your kind. There are others, though uncommon. It is not safe times for us, but,” she paused, glancing down at your side, “I see you have already figured that out.”

“You know of Graves?”

She smiled once more, though it looked more like a grimace. “We all know of the Devil of the Seas.”

And a devil he was. He was rotten, his core decayed and filled with maggots.

“I am to cease his plan,” you said, lips turning into a scowl. “It is written in the stars, and I cannot escape. But… I do not know how.”

“Time will only tell, child,” she assured kindly. Her wrinkled hands reached for yours, taking them in her grasp. Her palms covered yours, smoothing over your skin. “You will know. Perhaps you already do.”

You let it sink in, thinking back on everything that had happened thus far. Your nightmare came back to you, feeling the burning heat of towering fires that you’d relived over and over until it was engraved in memory.

There was something in your village, waiting for you to discover it. You knew it, but you could now admit the defeat of having to return to the ruins.

“Your… abilities,” you began, hesitating on the word. You weren’t sure what to refer to it as. Power? Sorcery? It was unclear. “How do you use them?”

“That is for you to learn and adapt,” she said sympathetically. “It would not be much of a gift if they were all the same. Just like your current path, you will also figure out your specialty—with time.”

“And my men? They do not know?”

Her smile turned into a mischievous grin, her chubby cheeks mushing up. “Your secret is yours to tell, my dove.”

“I am happy to see you all resting well.”

You smiled as your crew quickly rustled in their sleep, shooting up in alarm. It was a pitiful sight, really, seeing the four men smushed into uncomfortable cots on the hard floor, all sprawled in different positions that shouldn’t have been good for their necks.

“Dove,” Soap said first, grinning boyishly. “Look at ye.”

He stood immediately, scooping you into a bone-crushing hug. It knocked the air out of your lungs, but you awkwardly returned it, patting his back.

“Thought you were a goner, aye?” Gaz teased, looking over to Ghost beside him and nudging him with an elbow.

Ghost did nothing, only standing to shake off his rattling bones and grunt in response.

The Captain rose as well, appearing much less exhausted than before. The bags under his eyes had fainted enough to where they weren’t screaming at you, though he looked a bit scraggly, his hair strewn about. His endearing appearance did nothing to hide his worry, though.

“You’re feelin’ alright, dove?” he asked, hesitating.

You slowly released your hold on Soap, who took a step back. Stood before them, you could only hope you looked much better than before. Your hair needed care, yes, and your skin was crying out for a warm bathe, but you would stick with that for now. Feeling no more pain was your main concern.

“I am well,” you assured, giving him a small smile.

Your answer brought him the calm he needed, his shoulders visibly relaxing. Gaz seemed to match his relief, though you knew he was trying to hide it. After all, you still didn’t know what to do about… that.

“I’m sure Thea’s cot was not comfortable by any means. We may return to the ship, now that we know things are alright,” Price explained. Ghost seemed rather chipper at the idea, if it wasn’t for the gloomy cloud practically circling him just from being away from his home.

“Thea?” you asked, curious.

“Her name,” Price replied, quirking a brow. “Did she not tell you?”

You sucked your teeth, face showing a tint of displeasure that you attempted not to make noticeable. You owed the poor woman. It wasn’t your fault she shared news you weren’t prepared to hear.

“She has told me plenty,” you murmured. The men mirrored confused expressions. “Captain.”

“Yes, dove?” he answered.

“I requested something from you,” you explained. His confusion grew further before it dawned on him. “I do wish you would do it.”

“What request?” Gaz pitched in. Soap murmured in agreement, Ghost only side eyeing the bunch of you as he silently listened in.

“My request to return to my village,” you replied. Soap opened his mouth to retort. You knew immediately what he was going to say, so before he could, you raised a hand, successfully cutting him off. “I know it is ruins. That’s the point. There is something there that we must see. I believe it’s important.”

“How do you know?” Price pushed. He hadn’t asked you why the first time, but now that you were on your feet and conscious, he felt it was safe to question.

You frowned to yourself, recalling the horrible memory. As if on cue, you could feel your skin warm, like you were still pitted under flickering flames that ate greedily at your flesh and bone until you were nothing but ash.

“I saw it in a dream,” you said quietly.

Ghost scowled, shooting up from his cot. It was the first he’d done anything other than grunt and shift since your return. “This is goin’ on too long, Price. Let me kill the Devil and settle the score. He’s playin’ games I want no part in.”

“It was not Graves!” you exclaimed, hushing Ghost. He threw you a look of confusion, his eyes telling a whole story while he remained concealed away inside his mask. “At least, I do not think so. It was… different. I could not feel Graves with me in those dreams.” You glanced between them, silently pleading. “It was my village’s calling, not him. Please, I must know what it wants.”

“Have we not learned this before, dove? Huh?” Ghost asked, tossing his hands in the air. His body grew tense, tone clipped as he spoke. “He’s foolin’ you just as he has before. There’s nothin’ but fucked up bodies and rubble. That’s somethin’ you want to see again?”

“Ghost, that’s not fair,” Soap tried, frowning.

“It is not due to Graves,” you defended, hands balling by your sides. “Something is leading me back and I believe it is in our best interest to check. What if it has to do with the prophecy?”

“The prophecy?” Ghost laughed, bitterness spilling out of it and spewing at you like toxins. “Best interest? Your best interest is goin’ to get you killed. You were already on the brink of it, mind you.”

“That was not my fault,” you muttered, feeling your irritation growing.

“Of course it’s not your fault, dove,” Gaz assured, but Ghost was quick to wipe it away.

“We’re already pullin’ at strings here. At this rate, you’re goin’ to get yourself a permanent mark on his list, and we won’t be able to save you from it. You need to think,” Ghost continued. His frustration was written all over his body language, the way his hands shook as they furled and unfurled, his shoulders moving with every word.

“That’s enough,” Price snipped, silencing the both of you. “If there’s a slight possibility that somethin’s there to help us with Graves, then it’s a possibility I’m not lettin’ go. This is for dove, and for you, Ghost. Have you forgotten that? It is not only about her. It’s about you, too. You’re in this mess just as much as her, just as much as us.”

Ghost scoffed, turning his head away and crossing his arms. He said nothing, resorting back to his own personal isolation, appearing to have nothing more to add.

“Let us just return to the ship,” Gaz inquired. “Perhaps it will clear our minds to be back at home.”

Soap nodded in agreement, as did you, albeit stubbornly.

Price let out an exhausted sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I want no more bickerin’. This is not a fight between us. Am I clear?”

You only nodded once more, grumbling quietly to yourself. Ghost huffed but agreed nonetheless.

“Then let’s get you back, scrounge up somethin’ to eat, yes?” Price offered, and the sound of a fresh meal had all your anger dissolving.

Everything fell back into normal routine rather quickly. After shoveling down your meal, you were left satisfied with the outcome of what’s transpired, grateful to be alive and walking. Ghost still had a prick in his spine, but he slowly relaxed into his normal(ish) self, calming from the burst at the thought of Graves’ early return.

Soap had been your lap dog since your return, hovering on your heels and following you wherever you went. Though it was a bit ridiculous, you appreciated the care and thought your crew had for you, especially after a near loss.

The only thing able to stop it was Gaz, approaching you after dinner and shooing Soap away like disciplining a child.

“Might it be too much to ask of a few minutes of company tonight?” he asked. It was strange to see that subtle nervousness hiding in his words.

“Joining you to stargaze again?” you asked, feigning disinterest.

“Of course. What else is it I do around here?” he quipped, causing you to snicker. “If you’re not feelin’ your best, you can rest. No pressure, aye?”

You pretended to ponder, pursing your lips and tapping them with a finger. “I suppose I have the energy,” you retorted. “Though, I’m sorry you do not have your telescope anymore. It must not be as fun.”

“It’ll be fun,” he dismissed with a smile. “It is must more fun with you there to observe with me, anyway.”

The subtle chivalry had your heart racing almost immediately. Being bedridden and facing such dark worlds within your head had you nearly losing a piece of you, but Gaz always brought back that mischievous spark.

“I do not think it will be fun while I am looking like this. It may take away from the beauty.”

Gaz snorted, rolling his eyes and gently grabbing your shoulder to lead you along. “Funny.”

You grinned as you followed, approaching the usual spot you always found him in. The day was long, as were the weeks with nothing to stare at but the walls, and you knew a change of scenery would be the real cure.

He plopped down on the deck, and you joined him, dangling your legs over the ledge just as you’d done before. Nothing had changed, and for that, you were grateful.

“There will be no quarrels tonight,” he said lightly. “I believe you need a break from that.”

“Please,” you sighed, relaxing.

Your body felt weightless for the first time in weeks, and you took advantage of the moment, allowing the chilly breeze to glide along your skin. The quietness was welcomed, your mind going mute, void of any thoughts of Graves or a roaring fire that had trapped you in its grasp.

Gaz knew it was what you needed. He always seemed to know.

“You have to open your eyes to enjoy the sky,” Gaz piped in, tease in his tone.

You peeked your eyes open after they’d fallen into rest from the sheer calm of the moment. You glanced over at him, holding back a smile. “I am enjoying the moment. You may enjoy the sky.”

“Tch,” he sounded, returning to stargazing quietly.

Silence fell over you, one that was comforting and stable. It put you completely at ease and you realized how much you missed the peace. Your life was turned into a living hell once Graves stepped into your life, but for the night, he seemed to grant you your moment of clarity. How generous he was.

“Suuure is pretty out,” he murmured to himself. Your smile crept on your lips as you opened tour eyes once more.

“You are trying to tempt me to watch the sky again,” you accused, raising an eyebrow.

“Is it workin’?” he asked, leaning towards you and cocking his head.

“Not very well.”

“Ach, c’mon,” he huffed, nudging your shoulder. “I have done you plenty of favors in the past, yes? Grant me one as well.”

You feigned annoyance, though your smile gave you away. “Just this once.”

Gaz grinned back, seemingly pleased with himself. “Thank you.”

You did as promised and turned to the sky, peering up at the blanket of stars. Just as before, they shined beautifully, and it made you wonder why you hadn’t looked at them before in your village.

“You didn’t let me kiss you last time,” Gaz said suddenly, keeping his eyes trained to the sky.

You stiffened, growing embarrassed at how quickly your heart reacted to his words.

“No chance for a redo, is there?” he continued. He finally turned a side eye to you, glancing at you from his peripheral.

You could tell he was treading carefully while simultaneously going all for it. It was making you both nervous and excited.

You could never deny the way your heart yearned for your crew in its own interesting ways.

“I… have kissed the Captain,” you replied quietly, avoiding his gaze with the stars as your excuse. “Or more so, he has kissed me. I do not know if that will mess things up.”

“Why would it?” he asked, and he seemed so unfazed by it that it made you question if you’d read things wrong. “You’re a silly girl to think it would, dove.”

You briefly recalled Soap encouraging you before you fell into a heavy sleep. You confessed to him the feelings that left your sanity growing slimmer, and he had simply told you there was nothing wrong with having multiple infatuations. You had never heard of it before, only ever seeing the loyalty between two people and never another, yet, Soap would never lie to you for the sake of it.

“It will not mess things up between us, then?” you questioned, growing uncertain.

As if he could sense it, he smiled, easing the pit in your stomach. “I’d be a stupid brute if I ever let it,” he replied calmly.

You hadn’t even realized he’d shifted closer, his right thigh pressed against your left. You felt the heat of his skin radiate from beneath his pants and shift on to yours.

It was hard to deny yourself the pleasure. You’d been stricken with illness that left you weak and vulnerable, loneliness creeping in like a shadow to haunt you while you remained there. In the times there was nobody there to watch you as you slowly grew sicker, you’d find yourself wishing to see one of them, to cure the aching hole in your heart that Price had only begun to fill.

You felt selfish for wanting more.

“Perhaps just one,” you whispered, nearly furling in on yourself in shame.

Gaz could see the gears in your head begin to break down, and he wouldn’t have it. His hand came to rest along your jaw, slowly lifting your head to face him. You had no choice but to meet his gaze, locking eyes.

“Nothin’ will happen,” he murmured softly. “I promise.”

Without a moment to breathe, he leaned in, soft lips locking on to yours as if you were the drug he couldn’t live without. He was warm as he grew closer, his arm coming to wrap around you and press you against him, scared you’d run away.

You wanted to do anything but run. Everything about Gaz was so euphoric, lighting a fire beneath your skin that seemed to burn with a fever. It was absolutely striking, to be kissing the one who granted you nothing but calm in a roaring sea.

Unlike Price, where circumstances were ideal, with Gaz it seemed almost too perfect, and you’d lost track of time, losing yourself in him.

It was only when you were out of breath, lungs screaming for air did you pull away, sucking in little gasps to grant them mercy.

Gaz’s pupils were blown, lips glossed over with your mixed saliva as the moonlight casted a shine over them. It lured you in for more, but you feared too much all at once.

“Soap wanted you to join us tonight, but perhaps you should bed with the Captain,” he breathed, catching his own breath.

You froze, throwing him a concerned look. “Have I done something wrong?”

Gaz’s lips curled into a loose smile. His chest heaved and his cheeks ached, and if you weren’t worried, you would’ve told him he looked downright sinful.

“Not at all,” he assured lightly. “But I do not know if I will be able to stop myself if you’re to sleep in our quarters. I have wanted that for a while, and I fear I’ll get greedy for more if you stay.”

The realization dawned on you, that he was referring to more. As much as the sudden boldness had your stomach rolling somersaults and your mind infecting with temptation, your embarrassment for being so oblivious to it was overpowering it.

“You do not wish for me to room with you?” you asked, eyes darting down to his lips before quickly diverting back to his eyes.

“Oh, that is not it, dove,” he laughed breathlessly. “It is my mind tellin’ me that. I will not be able to sleep beside you, knowing it is anythin’ but what I want to do.”

Your skin warmed up, fighting off the chill in the air. You stared at him, lips parting to reply, yet nothing came out.

Price was gentle with his kiss, which came as a surprise, seeing as he is a brute of a Captain—a warrior, a killer to those at his mercy. Yet, Gaz had been the one to test the waters, dipping his toes in before diving right in. He was being risky, and he didn’t even seem to care, not one bit.

“That…that is dangerous,” you whispered, averting your eyes from him, though it was the last thing you wanted to do.

“I’m a pirate, dove,” he reminded with a grin. “Trust that sleep would be the last thing we’d be doin’.”

You sputtered on your own words, unable to even muster proper ones. Gaz found humor in your shyness, snickering loudly. He released you only when you nearly burst at the seams, brushing a knuckle against your cheek before letting it fall.

“You do things to me, dove,” he said, voice growing softer. “That is what’s dangerous.”

You found the strength to look at him again, noting the tenderness that filled his gaze. He looked at you as if you had captured the stars for him, and it had your heart lurching out of your chest.

“I’ll tell Soap you wanted a quiet night,” he continued, smiling softly. “You’ve had a long few weeks. Perhaps you should get some proper rest, now that you’re well.”

You nodded slowly, stuck in a daze from both the kiss and his words. They stuck to you like glue, trapped in your head in a permanent repeat.

“I… enjoyed your company, Gaz,” you confessed. “I am glad we were able to have a moment to ourselves after so long.”

Gaz looked surprised for a moment before he melted into gratitude. “As am I, dove. Now go on.”

You smiled at him, one which he returned, and you stood from your usual spot on the deck, making your way back to the Captain’s quarters with your heart fuller than it had been before.

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forestshadow-wolf · 2 days ago

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Soap who's da growing up threatened to make soap pack some clothes and sleep outside when he got too talkative. Soap who's every relationship has ended in a onesided screaming match about soap talking too much, and being too much, and ends with him packing his bags. Soap who keeps himself hypervigilant of how annoying he gets, and if he notices himself getting too bad he immediately packs his bags in anticipation.

#el rambles #john soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap mactavish #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #ghostsoap

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kismetlotts · 20 hours ago

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Kinktober 🎃 day nine: Cheating!

cw: cheating, dubcon, noncon, mentions on rape, open relationships? (Johnny and Simon share), rough sex, mentions of blood, mentions of saliva, fingering, oral sex on reader, bruising, voyeurism, ‘don’t get caught’ trope, ignorance, degrading names such as ‘whore’, vocal Simon, creampie, mentions of having a child

Simon and Johnny who are so used to sharing each other’s little toys: their own girlfriends. It’s a weird bond that brings the two of them together. It’s sick and fucking perverted but it’s something to talk about when the weather turns cold and on a mission.

Sipping on their drinks as they recharge their batteries mumbling a, 'Remember so and so?’ getting a ‘Yeah, they were a good fuck.' in response.

It was more than likely one of the reason why the two blokes struggled with keeping their girlfriends. Most of them rejecting and breaking up with them when they’d bring it up because what woman who was looking for a family, a life, love, would want to fuck their boyfriend’s best friend? Or be tampered with?

The two of them had grown a lot of respect and loyalty for each other from this little routine. A ridiculous amount when you put it against how much respect they gained from each other at war. Protecting one and others lives, killing for each other, just doesn't help the same than sharing some good pussy. Weird logic that not even they understood but with all said, they were tight, close.

So when Johnny got his hands on you, a pretty little thing that refused to fuck until the third date he knew not only was he in danger, but you were. He knew how much Simon would ruin you, take that precious little hole of yours and stuff you so deep you'd feel it for days. Johnny just fucking knew it would happen and when you'd finally let him inside, invited him into your heavenly cunt- he couldn’t let him steal you.

Too delicate and light for Simons heavy way with sex.

"So when's my turn?" The gruff, masked man would ask Johnny. Conversation of you being brought up and the words just tumbled from the cracks of his lips. Normality and need seeping through his tone because as it was such a statement in his and Johnny's relationship, he’d think no other way.

Not once would he even consider the possibility of Johnny turning around and refusing, saying no. Telling him that your pussy- your body- is just for him. Claiming you against his own kind. Barricading and locking you away from him in his designed cell of greed.

It wasn’t going to end well, Johnny was sure of it, so with an awkward laugh and the rub of his neck he spun around facing him, eyes catching Simons through the mask before clearing his throat. Words coming across shakier than intended because he wasn't intimidated by Simon, more fretful of what he’d do knowing that you were off limits.

"Actually, lass is a good' ne. Think she might be a keeper Si." Silence filling the room for about five seconds, the slow click of the clock on the wall the only audible thing. Simons gaze not changing once and it killed Johnny, bugged him harder than a kick to the teeth.

Everything about him yearning to know what Simons brain was thinking or what he was planning, wanting to reach out and shake him, beg him to back off. They were getting old now, it was bound to be called off at some point- when they properly wanted to settle down and have kids and a family, right?

"Oh really?" His accent and words a monotone warning but Johnny was so flushed with relief that he hadn’t exploded and raged at him, his ears missed it. Missed the way his blinks slowed, analysing the man in front of him. Missed the way Simons personally and mindset changed. New thoughts drowning his head so hard he forced out exhales to think straight. Did he think he was better than him? More deserving of your body than gruff ol’ Simon over here? Worthier?

He was fucking seething, the metallic taste in his mouth potent as he bit his tongue, refraining to tell Johnny to go fuck himself, stand up and find you. Go track you down and make you cry both of their names just so he can hear which one sounds better or which one turns him on more.

Moaning your boyfriend’s name so loudly while his friend hits that one part. Choking out, crying out for Mactavish as your eyes roll back, tongue drooping out the side of your lips too. He’d be a liar to say his dick wasn't twitching at the thought.

"Yeah, I'm so sorry Simon-" But he was already shaking his head, hand waving him off with a sly smirk on his face as he told him no worries! Told him that's its alright and that he completely understands. Barely moving an inch the rest of the night as he came up with plans on what he's going to do to you. What he did in fact do to you.

Face down in yours and Johnny’s double bed. Panties damp with your cum from how many times Simon had already made you orgasm, shirt wet with tears and saliva. Rubbing your clit so harshly and fast your body trembled at every little touch. The fine line between touching and fucking, abuse and rape being blurred but you craved it. You longed for it, days of wishing and wondering when he’d come back to please you again.

He’d force your legs apart, holding you by the ankles while he ate like a mad man. Devouring you messily, the noises sounding like a fucking porn movie. Ruining your makeup, your sheets, your body. You couldn’t look Johnny in the eye when he got on all fours, kissing your thigh and humming against the soft skin while asking how you’d got another bruise.

Day and night- when Johnny's downstairs and when he's away. He'd have you begging to stop, pleading him to let you go before you’d lose yourself. His thrusts silencing you, cries turning to moans back to cries to screams of joy- it was mesmerising and so fucking bad of him.

“Oh shut up, babe. You know you want me.” He’d grunt, eyes shutting as he took you in again and again. Eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and ignorance for your cries. Knowing it was only a matter of time before you gave in again, joining him and thrusting back against his cock.

What made it worse was the moans that came from this man. Johnny was never vocal- never vocal enough for you but Simon sounded almost in tears. Each thrust like he’s on the brink of orgasm, you felt so good he couldn’t stay quiet- he didn’t want to.

His favourite memory was when he snuck into your window, almost kicking the stupid Halloween decorations Johnny had put up outside on his way up. The sky pitch black and your bedroom likewise but he could see you in his night vision goggles, sneaking behind you as you changed out of your clothes getting ready for bed.

Bending you over the bedframe, peeling down your panties and thrusting into you for a quickie. The sound of Johnny's electric toothbrush coming from the bathroom one room away only adding to his excitement. He could step in any minute by now, luckily from the darkness Simon had an advantage and most likely enough time to hide if he wanted to. If he wanted to leave your pussy.

Gloved fingers slipped into your mouth for you to suck or bite. Anything to help silence your moans. It excited him the fact that Johnny could find him, Johnny could catch him and realise all this time he though you were safe and committed to him you’d gone behind his back. His precious little girl who actually is just a dirty whore. A dirty whore who lets her hole be used. By men she doesn’t even know.

He wonders what you do when Johnny brings him up in conversation, I mean, he figures you haven't spilt the beans to him yet so do you just laugh and nod on along? Hearing his name, acting like you don't know his touch or how his tongue feels. Pretending he's a stranger, just some stranger who's dick is drilled into your memory. He doesn't fuck like Johnny, he's bigger than him, hits all the places that Johnny can’t. You can never get Simon out of your mind.

Filling you up with his cum and laughing deeply at himself. He's got to be careful with it- what if you two were trying for a baby? That would be a shock, wouldn’t it? Gorgeous little kid coming out looking just like Simon- Simons eyes, Simons hair; a little mini Simon left all for you to raise.

Maybe Johnny would be too thick to realise, too slow to pick up on why his son looks so much like his best friend- that the son he’d always wanted actually belong to Simon. Oh fucking hell, he was a dark deluded arsehole- who thinks like this? Slipping back out of the window and shutting it the same time as Johnny walked into the room.

Large soft body crawling on top of you and pushing you further into the bed. Lips attacking your sensitive neck as his already hard cock slips its way inside of your warm, creampied folds. The darkness hiding all the evidence and leaving him to believe it’s just how wet you are for him. How needy and desperate you are for him.

Blissfully unaware that the wetness lubing his cock up, letting him fuck you with ease and making him feel so hot and so good, was no other than his best friends cum. Dribbling out your hole and onto your thigh as he picks up the pace.

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sudsmactav · 17 hours ago

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Finally drew my OG babygirl💖

Soap was so gorgeous during the Cliffhanger mission in MW2009 that I knew I had to draw him sometime, finally got enough confidence to be able to draw him pretty enough for my liking💖

#soap #soap mactavish #soap mw3 #soap cod #john soap mactavish #soap call of duty #cod modern warfare #cod mw3 #captain mactavish #call of duty #cod fanart #magma art #magma.com #cod mw2 #cod mwf2

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giotanner · 2 days ago

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November 21st, 2023, Channel Tunnel, Strait of Dover. Another chest candy for Sgt. John “Soap” MacTavish.

Months in the hospital, then in Task Force 141's MOB. Recovery was gradual, but solid, and Soap was readmitted to Captain John Price's squad six months later.

Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley gave him a set of knives and ordered him to practice as a welcome back and Sgt. Kyle “Gaz” a helmet.

Soap laughed.

(If I can't change things with my drawings then what would be the joy of being able to draw?)

SUPPORT the video on tiktok and REBLOG it, please! It helps so much (tumblr is one of the last social that works for artists!)

Ko-fi

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lostintransist · 19 hours ago

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Secrets Are For Grown Ups | Part 2

Shout out to the fabulous @xbirdiex for letting me hit them up in their DM's to beta for this. 😘

CW: Limb Loss, suicide mentioned in passing, thoughts of murder, Emotions™

What does one do when confronted with their unknown sins?

Follow them home of course.

Johnny had lost his left leg at knee due to a bomb going off at a job and Simon had been discharged after repeatedly failing mental health evals. They were both given pensions and discharged with honors. Roach and Gaz had been kept together when moved to a new team and Price had been ‘gifted’ a higher position by command that left him chained to a desk.

The only confirmation they had that your leaving had been somehow their fault was the face down picture on the table. Price had called them to check on you as you had a family emergency. You had been firmly ensconced in a hard airport seat when they reached your flat. If they shared a speaking look about the photo before Johnny slid it from it’s frame and folded into his pocket, they never discussed it.

The discharges were how they finally ended up together. Simon needed something, someone, to care for to keep from eating a bullet and Johnny fighting him tooth and nail to stay alive was the right project. The physical therapists loved seeing Johnny rolled in by Simon because they knew he wouldn’t fight them on exercises today. He would snarl at his “L.T.” and actually work. They had to be careful to not let him overwork himself lest he be unable to work at the next day’s appointment.

Their first kiss had been when Johnny had been fed up with Simon’s sass about physical therapy. He had only been legless for a month and barely started trying to relearn how to balance.

Simon carried him from the car to their shared flat.

“I’m not going back.”

“Mmm, what a surprise it will be when I drag your ass to PT tomorrow then.”

Being carried bridal style rankled somewhere deep in Johnny. He wanted to take a bite of out Simon’s neck and keep ripping but that would have left him stranded in the hall with a dead body and only one working foot.

The look Simon sent him, one of cool acknowledgment and smugness had Johnny gripping both halves of Simon’s face and planting a kiss on him.

That would show the bastard.

Showed him something alright. All Simon could see the remaining few steps to the flat was the subtle shift in Johnny’s gym shorts and rising heat in his cheeks. Simon hadn’t said anything about it. Dinner had been a simple soup. Night fell. When Simon helped Johnny to bed that night, he inserted himself next to the man.

Johnny didn’t question it. Frankly he was relieved. He had flirted for years in front of the man he didn’t think he would ever catch. The press of his dry lips and light fingers had ignited the combustible fumes that swirled between them. Those fumes choked out any hope of anything healthy with anyone else.

When Johnny had ‘graduated’ from therapy and could walk with almost no limp Simon invited Johnny to move with him. They found a medium sized city in a place neither of them had been to but could reach several national parks and an airport relatively quickly. Housing costs were rising but they found an older neighborhood with a good amount of trees in the yards and a little space in the back to grow plants. They could see the mountains when they stood on the second story porch.

The previous owner had mentioned that the school pick-up and drop off point happened at their house for the junior high and the elementary schools. Kids would wait on the corner of their yard away from the cars. That is why the two owners prior had installed the stone benches that sat so close to the sidewalk. Simon had planned on taking them out until he heard that piece of information.

One day, during mid-spring where the mornings were chilled enough to need a jacket but the afternoons would leave you sweating, Johnny saw something that gave him pause. He was in the process of moving bags of clothes into the car to drop off at the shelter when the bus delivered a load of kids. He waved with the bus driver and slammed the trunk of the crossover.

The squeal particular to children had Johnny snapping his back to a pair of children who walked past his parked car.

“Don’t do that Mac!”

A glare he had only ever seen on Simon’s face painted itself across the face of a child who couldn’t be any older than seven. Johnny felt the bottom drop out of his stomach and fall into his ass.

“Don’t yell at me stupid!”

“Mom says you can’t call me stupid! Stupid!”

Stepping into the sidewalk Johnny watches the the children, one with long hair and the other short, bicker until they reached a house five doors up and disappeared behind the front door.

Stumbling into the garage Johnny attempts to call for Simon. All that escapes is a croak. After a hard shake of his head and clearing his throat it works.

“Simon!”

The shout must have had an edge of panic because Simon appears with a hand gun pointed at the floor and the his Ghost eyes staring out. Upon seeing Johnny, unharmed and alarmed Simon tucked his work face and his gun away.

“What happened? Why are you sweating? Are you sick?”

Johnny swatted away that hands that reached for his face.

“I saw a fecking child with your face Si. Kid got off the bus and was arguing with his sister. I need you to come with me.”

Simon blinked at his beloved a few times. The fuck did he say?

“Why would a child in the states have my face? You know it is possible for unrelated people to look like right? It’s important to me that you know that.”

“Listen to me Simon!” Johnny stumbled back, prosthetic catching funny against the concrete floor. “I, never, in all my life have seen a glare that looks exactly like yours. But this kid when yelling at his sister had one of your meanest glares. I could see him in you still after he smiled. I am asking you to come with me and knock on a door to introduce ourselves to the neighbors and find out what the hell is going on.”

Simon hadn’t seen Johnny this riled up in a long time. He searched his husbands face, noting the heaving of his chest and the flex of his fingers as he fought them from curling into fists.

“Okay,” he said gently as if he were speaking to a spooked horse, “let’s go meet the neighbors.”

That is how the found themselves at your door. The waiting after the harsh knock sounded into the space beyond the frame rattled something loose in Simon. Could he have a kid? He had been no prude before settling down with Johnny but he couldn’t remember more than a few women he ever fucked raw. Everyone of them had been on birth control, at least they said they were.

Johnny crossed his arms, drawing Simon’s gaze. They were both freaked out, concerned.

When the door opens there is you. A little older, a little more solid than when you had fled England, a few new piercings, but it’s still you. Simon glances to the wall visible behind you catching sight of two children in photos who wouldn’t look out of place on the walls of his and Johnny’s home. His gaze snaps back to you as you blanch and slam the door shut.

The deadbolt slamming into place solidifies in him the answer that there is something going on here and it absolutely involves them.

Before Johnny can pound his fist into the door to demand answers Simon catches his fist. Placing a gentle kiss along his knuckles he coaxes him from the door.

“She won’t answer the door. You know she won’t. Let’s all take the evening and try and come back tomorrow while the kids are at school.”

“She owes us answers, Si,” Johnny’s eyes flashed as he snarled.

Simon pulled him down one more step. Once Johnny started moving they walked home, hand in hand.

“She does owe us answers, but we know where she is now and can see about getting them. Right now I suggest we recoup and see what we can find. One of the kids in the photos looked like you Johnny.”

Johnny vibrates with tension until he sees the wisdom in coming at this from another angle. His shoulders drop from his ears as tears prick at his eyes.

“Why wouldn’t she tell us Si?”

Mulling over the answer they complete the walk home.

“Why would she Johnny? You know how we are.”

That sobering statement colored the remainder of the evening. It is late when they decide to call their former captain.

Secrets Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags:

@love-kha1 @bdbdhshhs @persephone-kore-law @vmaxis @splaterparty0-0 @momowhoo @talia-the-gemini @redkarmakai

@beloveds-embrace @cherrycosmos392 @mxtallymarks @love-kha1

#Men but idiots all the same #cod #fanfiction #cod x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap cod #kyle gaz garrick #gary roach sanderson #captain john price #ghoap x reader #ghoap x you #lostintransit writing #lostintransit

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mactavishenjoyer · 2 days ago

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During a mission in the United states

Gaz:"why is soap crying?"

Price:"ghost went to the store."

Gaz:"okay and?"

Price:"it's the day after Thanksgiving."

Gaz:"my God"

#black friday #call of duty #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #incorrect quotes #incorrect cod quotes #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghoap #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #cod gaz #price cod #john price #captain price

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tmartin0918 · 2 days ago

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Alright. I CANNOT. Tiktok has me on too many Barry Sloan and Neil Ellice edits. I am watching SIX. Guy is called Bear.

We can all agree that Captain John Price is an absolute bear of a man. It's in every fic, and I am totally here for it. But now I find myself needing to know what beasts our other men would be. Like I will even include Graves even though I don't like him much.

#soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #john price #price #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #soap cod #captain price #i dont know #I just have grown to love these characters and appreciate their existence despite being ya know not real

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deathblossomm · 5 hours ago

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new found video of Neil posted on October 31 on Fort Irwin's Facebook page

#neil ellice #oh my gooood #he looks 🔥🔥🔥#he gets better looking every day #I miss him a lot #and the beard?!#ten points #looks so thick😋#my mans so fucking fine #call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare #john soap mactavish #i love him

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nrdmssgs · 6 hours ago

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A good wolf

Masterlist

Fluff with an open ending Werewolf Johnny Soap MacTavish x handler f reader AN: thank you to @lialucis for making this happen.

An average handler in the army deals with around a dozen Werewolves throughout their career, a good one - with four or five. That's because werewolves, despite being much more capable, fast and strong than the best human soldiers, don't last too long. They handle the toughest tasks, they are thrown to the most inhuman circumstances. They fight full squads, don't back away before the heavy machinery. Their line of work rarely lets them meet a peaceful old age in the comfort of their beds. When one werewolf doesn't make it back from the battlefield - a handler usually gets assigned to the next one. An average handler has around a dozen werewolves left behind when he retires, a good one does everything possible so that this number doesn't grow over four.

Captain Price promised Soap the best handler. Of course, some werewolves could work alone, like Ghost did. But Johnny was far too socialized to reject that essential bond, only a handler could provide. He needed a mentor, a guiding hand, a new perspective. Soap didn't notice that, but without a handler he gradually grew irritated, caught up in a lap of frustration and a blind search for something. Something very important, that Johnny couldn't put a name to. But when Price brought him and you together in a little briefing room, a simple idea stroke him from the first sight.

Soap needed you.

Even before you opened your mouth, even before Price introduced you to each other - Johnny already knew. You exchanged standard courtesies, Soap thought, you would want to shake hands, but you straight extended your open palms towards his face and froze, allowing him to sniff you.

That meant Soap was not your first wolf. A good sign.

He cautiously inhaled your scent. There was something homely in it, something strangely familiar. And not even a trace of smell of fear or anger. You trusted him right away. Even a better sign. Soap nodded and smiled widely. After that minute you two became almost inseparable.

***

Usually, it takes a werewolf some time to ease up around a handler enough to show them their beast. Soap showed you on a second evening. You two were approaching the close combat polygon, when you dropped the inevitable question.

“Why ‘Soap’?”

He asked you to remind him, what's the time record for completing the longest route on polygon, neutralizing each target. When you answered, he tilted his head to the side and grinned. And that was no more his usual wide smile. Something new emerged from deep inside to his face. Something uncanny, predatory. Something wolfish.

“Watch this.”

Soap shifted in one long and swift stride, your eyes barely caught the smooth outlines of dark furred back as the massive beast disappeared in the tight corridors of the polygon without making any noise at all. In a mere seconds the automatic screen at the entrance began to flash with increasing numbers of neutralized targets. Soap didn't just beat the human time record, he cleared the area two times faster than the best soldiers could. Effective and unstoppable, he startled you with his incredible skills. But as soon as you checked the targets and exited the corridors - you were greeted by the happiest puppy in a body of a 200 kg beast.

“You did so well, look at you!” You reached out to his enormous head, not caring about rows of massive sharp teeth, that he proudly demonstrated you in an animalistic grin.

Soap was glowing with pride and eagerly offered his wide forehead for scratching. His tail was wagging in agitation, his electric blue gaze never left your eyes. You two knew each other just for a few days, but hugging his furry neck and scratching behind his ears felt so natural.

As if you both craved something as bright as this moment for a long time already.

Later that night his squad mates surrounded him in the common room.

“Had a good day, Sergeant?” Ghost glanced sideways at Soaps wagging tail, which never disappeared, even in human form.

“Mhm,showed her, where does mah callsign come fae,” Johnny didn't even try to mask his excitement.

“You look like she showed you, where does her callsign come from, in return,” Ghost leaned against the counter, while Soap roamed around the basket with snacks.

“Her ca' sign, what is it?” Johnny asked, taking a sip of coffee.

He regretted it a second later, when Price named it and Soap nearly chocked in surprise.

***

“Is it awfy much... If I ask ye how come dae thay call ye ‘Kiss’?”

Soap was slightly worried about asking you this, but when you answered ‘I can show you, just not here’ and lead him away from the cafeteria - the adrenalin fully kicked in, and his heart began racing.

This wasn't a childish anxiety before a possible kiss, oh no. The wolf in him sensed something off. And when you stopped in a deserted hall and lifted your fleece shirt - his suspicions were confirmed.

The nasty scar sprawled across your side and stomach like a relic of a battle, human could never win. Jagged and uneven, it was a map of chaos carved by fangs too wild to obey symmetry. The marks were deep, the flesh long since healed but forever transformed. Soap would distinguish wolves canine marks from any other type of scar.

“This is the kiss. Well, a goodbye kiss, to be more precise. Badass isn't it?” you tried to play it cool, but Soap didn't follow your lighthearted tone.

“Who?” He barked in response.

Johnny ignored your attempts to change a subject. His attention was drowning in paling conclaves, surrounded by puckered, pinkish, slightly risen flesh. When he repeated the question, you reached out with an open palm to his face level in a barrier gesture. An unspoken command, he wouldn't dare to not follow. This meant ‘stop whatever you are doing”’.

“It was my fault. My wolf. I had it coming.”

You gesture didn't hurt him, but this? This felt like a slap in the face. Your wolf? Dared to attack you, his handler? Now, this was low. Of course, there are bad handlers out there: stubborn, violent, or straight stupid. But a werewolf is a few times bigger than any handler. He can always walk away, escape a handler. Attacking one is an absolute bullshit for Johnny.

And also that ‘my wolf’. Soap didn't like the sound of it. Weeks beside you turned into months of training, working side by side on a battlefield and occasional leisure time. You were kinder than his previous handlers, you praised Johnny a lot. Yet he was always a ‘good’ wolf. And with time, Soap realized with bewilderment:

‘Good’ was not enough - Johnny wanted to be ‘your wolf’.

***

He thought about smile first thing every day. Soap loved it, how you grinned when he made a good joke or when you two goofed off after work. Sometimes you just made a sudden short jump or barked and his inner wolf immediately got into the game. You could pull over some rag with Soap in his wolf form and he loved every second of it. Not only because of the fun, but because of your wide smile, he could witness.

But that was not enough.

You were much more open to accidental physical contacts than other handlers. You let him sniff your neck and hands each time you came back to the base. Johnny needed to know, where you've been, what you ate, how you felt. He also lowkey needed to check if other wolves didn't get too close to you. Other handler would get mad in your place, but you just laughed as he buried his face in your collar and inhaled frantically.

But that also wasn't enough.

You praised him, made him the proudest wolf out there. Others would mark only his achievements, but not you. You praised Johnny for just being himself. Once you two were walking in the forest at the end of one evening. It was cold already, but Soap didn't notice that - he just hovered around you, not pausing friendly banter for a second. He didn't think about it too much, he just got a sudden urge to howl, which he immediately did. Soap stopped and stood still, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of untamed joy. His eyes, brighter than any human’s should be, were fixed on the glowing orb above. The first sound was low, a rumble from deep within his chest that hummed like a string being plucked in the marrow of the earth. Then it rose. His howl wasn't mournful, it was a cry of elation, an outpouring of gratitude for the night, the moon, the stars, and for you.

“So beautiful, Johnny!” you ruffled his hair, when Soap went silent. This was such a bright moment.

And even that was not enough.

Johnny painfully craved more. He gradually developed a sharper reaction at other wolves approaching you. Deathstares got replaced by guttural growls towards random soldiers turning to look at you. He had to force himself away from you after every greeting, because he started spending way too much time pressing his face against your skin.

He wasn't opposed to the idea of getting together with a human. But it got more complicated because of a wolf-handler dynamic you two developed. You weren't particularly strict, yet you turned his attempts to flirt into an endless banter.

“Nice uniform, Johnny.”

“Ye know whit tis made from?”

“What?”

“A boyfriend material. 'ere, huv a go, tis soft 'n' warm!”

“Piss off, Sergeant.”

***

Johnny wasn't proud of some thoughts you awoke in him. You were perfect to him. So delicate yet so strong. Your body would fit against his as though you were two puzzle pieces meant to find each other. Soap noticed that on many occasions when you stood close to him. He needed to touch you. Not with his forehead to your palm, as he usually did, confirming, that he obeys your command. Oh no.

He needed to wrap you in his embrace, to feel your heartbeat, to taste your skin, inhale the scent your body produced in a bliss of lust. Johnny wanted to make you tremble and moan. Lose your breath and forget, where you are. In his heated dreams, Soap felt his duality most acutely: the wolf hungering, the man savoring, both aching to never let the moment end.

Oh, the things he did. Beautiful sinful things.

Yet he still remained a ‘good wolf’.

Johnny grew tired of this in November. It suddenly became too cold without you right in his hands. And Soap made a plan. An Ideal date. He planned every minute of it, every word, every motion. Sadly, he had to postpone it due to Makarov reappearing on the horizon once again. But that was just a temporary barrier. They would get him very soon. And after that, he would do everything to finally become your wolf.

So thought John Mactavish on 21st of November, going down into the tunnel under Aimsley Street, short after 6 pm.

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