#Soap headcanons

[machveil]

official John “Soap” MacTavish post

have realized that while i am not a fan necessarily of "people meet and immediately fall in love" i am a fan of "people meet and are immediately obsessed with each other." the love can come later but the absolute fixation should be immediate

[machveil]

Johnny is definitely into the aquarium actors that dress up as mermaids hit post

[angel5ofp0rn]

Price’s children would be pretty well-behaved. Listen to him well, respect their elders, etc.

Gaz’s children would be a bit snobby, really into sports, a bit more hardheaded.

Soap’s kids are little menaces, but have hearts of gold. Would do anything for their family and friends, love their parents more than anything in the world.

Ghost’s children- and they’re all girls- are the most spoiled little divas any of the other guys have ever met. The minute he sees one of their little lips quiver, he’s offering snacks, lollies, money, the shirt off of his back- hell, the shirt off of Soap’s back. Poor guy can’t stand to see his little girls upset.

[penguinbuttcheeks]

- johnny ‘soap’ mactavish is absolutely livid when he sees a picture of you being shared around base - tears in your eyes and clothes drenched in water, making the fabric stick to your body uncomfortably, your arms tightly wrapped around your torso in humiliation.

- the cherry on top? the dog collar around your neck with your dog tags hanging on display, dangling between your collarbones.

- you’ve only just finished your first week on base as the newest recruit, but that excited spark in your eyes was quickly diminished

- he doesn’t even know your name, but what he does know is he won’t stand for the blatant disrespect towards the new recruits he’s going to be training and fighting alongside

- hazing is a strictly prohibited practice, but with no way to trace down who the original photographer was, none of the higher ups are able to enforce any form of punishment

- it makes him see red

- soap will go out of his way to beat the ever loving shit out of any soldier that has the picture saved to their phones, forcing them to delete it right before his eyes before spitting on them and walking away

- word on base is quickly spread and soldiers scramble to make sure there is no trace of the photo on their phones. you have a death wish if you’re willing to anger the 141 sergeant

- you’re quick to notice the sudden change in attitude towards you, no longer being called demeaning nicknames or tormented by the soldiers around you

- what you fail to notice however, is the sharp glare johnny sends their way as he trails behind you several metres back as you navigate through the halls, soldiers quickly averting their gaze or ducking their heads

- you shrug it off, ruling it down to your initiation finally being complete once the photo was snapped

- such a clueless little hen, completely unaware of the constant presence that lingers just out of your line of sight

- it’s a blessing that soap took an interest in you. he might just have to finally introduce himself once all the commotion has died down

- he can’t wait

[gloomwitchwrites]

How they would propose to us and the aftermath?

Gaz is the romantic of the group. He’s the kind of guy who takes his time planning a proposal. He will pull out all the stops, making sure it’s not only a romantic occasion but a special one. The ring will be just what you want, and he’ll even have a photographer hiding somewhere to capture the special moment. And yes, Gaz will get your friends and/or family involved if he needs help planning it. The goal for him is to make you feel loved and to say “yes.” And the aftermath? You’re not turning this man down. Nothing but tears and an enthusiastic “yes.”

Soap is either going to give you the perfect proposal or do it spontaneously and in the worst way possible. There is no middle ground here. He is either so in love that he puts in effort to make it special, or he asks you to marry him at the most awkward and inappropriate time. If Soap is going all out, he’s taking you to the Scottish Highlands and proposing while the mist hangs low across the loch. Or, Soap is going to pop the question while you’re too drunk to talk and bent over the toilet trying to keep yourself together. In Scotland, it’ll certainly be a “yes,” but it’ll likely not go his way otherwise.

Price is a traditionalist. He’s asking a friend or family member for permission. He’s booking the fancy restaurant or taking you on vacation to a remote cabin somewhere to propose. This man is getting down on one knee, but don’t expect some longwinded or sentimental speech. Price is to the point, clear, and simply put in how he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. It’s beautiful, something you aren’t saying no to. And after, when he’s done showing you with his words, he’s going to show you with his body.

Ghost is the wildcard. His proposal is so out-of-pocket, it’s like a slap across the face. This man is so direct that it’s either going to feel like intimidation or cohesion, or—and hear me out—he’s going to ask in such a way that it completely baffles you and you’re unsure if he’s actually proposing. This man is going to loom over you, stare at you for a few solid seconds that is far too uncomfortable before asking “marry me?” like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And if he doesn’t go that route, he’s going to ask indirectly like asking if you want to consider citizenship or see yourself “living in England.” Honestly, it’s strange enough that you might say yes.

main masterlist

[junovae]

giving blowjobs to the tf141 men under a desk at their workplaces - headcanons

simon "ghost" riley | streamer/gamer

you and simon had gotten into an argument earlier

so of course you slip under his desk while he livestreams to get your revenge

he instantly knows what you are doing as soon as he feels a hand tugging down at his sweatpants

doesn't even try to push you away

instead, a provoking and smug smile forms on his face as he bites his cheeks

mutes his mic as soon as your soft lips engulf the tip of his cock

immediately thrusts his dick into your warm mouth, causing you to choke

grabs your hair with one hand and guides you up and down, coating your saliva all over him in euphonies of slurps and gags

you didn’t like fighting and secretly missed the way he filled your mouth to the brim with his length

the chat explodes with messages informing him that his mic stopped working or that he was muted

the sound of you choking on his fat cock is music to his ears

"you think you can beat me at this game? how 'bout we play another one. try not to make a sound when i unmute, hm? if you win, i'll fuck you real nasty later."

john price | ceo

john price is the big-name ceo of the corporation you're employed at, working under him as his personal secretary

before a business meeting, he has you on his knees for him as he slathers his cock all over the tongue that you are sticking out for him

to help the two of you de-stress before the meeting, he says

once the shareholders start entering the room, he moves you under the big desk

the meeting goes along as planned without any hiccups as you silently adore his throbbing cock with your mouth

he contains his composure, continuing to write notes on his paper

being the tactical leader he is, he sees this as another challenge

occasionally, he lets out a sigh through his nostrils when he feels his tip hit the back of your throat

nearing the end of the meeting and reaching his climax, he looks down to see a mouthful of his girth stuffing your face

the tears in your eyes is what gets him. he knows it took a lot for you to stay quiet

he plans to praise you later for it

as the meeting ends, he releases his cum into your mouth, prompting you to swallow all of it

"come to my office later, angel. i need you to help me manage my schedule."

the rest of his daily agenda consisted of cancelled meetings and a full 24 hours of fucking you all over his office - against the bookshelf, bent over his desk, and with plenty new positions you never imagined were possible

kyle "gaz" garrick | librarian

it's finals season and the library had become your second home

thankfully, it was a bit more bearable as you had someone you knew to bother when taking your study breaks

needing a hiatus from your session, you decide to go bother kyle

making sure no one was looking, you slide under the front-desk of where he was sitting and pull out his dick

he looks at you wide-eyed and asks what you are doing

you ignore him, careful to make eye contact while playfully sucking on his balls

he covers his mouth in embarrassment

asks if you can do this another time, preferably when he wasn't working

but as soon as you let go of his cock, he swiftly scoots closer and holds your head to push your mouth back on him, causing you to let out a soft gag

he lets you take the lead with your mouth, appreciating the visual of your bobbing head going down on him

you make him feel so good that he ends up whining softly with each bounce

the two of you try your best not to let out any sound, weary of the silent atmosphere

you guys are in a library, for fuck's sake

this causes him to grip onto the table and bite his lips in hopes of preventing himself from making any more noise as he cums all over your face

his cock twitches as he slathers the evidence of his climax all over your face

"fuck. i wish i could let them hear how well you were sucking me. you’d probably like that, huh?"

john "soap" mactavish | personal trainer

john accidentally double-scheduled a training session with you and another person that day

luckily, you had come in early to his gym office, surrounded two-way with glass wall partitions

with time to spare, he gladly shows you some new stretching exercises he wanted to incorporate into his lessons

you tell him that you want to test your flexibility

he's not sure what you mean but once you pull him over to his desk and unzip his pants to reveal his already rock-hard cock, he smirks

something about seeing you in your workout attire

you bend over into a bridge pose as he fucks your mouth

he hisses at the sight of your bent-over-backwards body sucking on him. fuck, this is so hot, he thinks

the way his ball sacks were slapping against your face made him feel dizzy

he instructs you to switch to the next position, the upward-facing dog

soap was losing all his inhibition, groaning loudly with each suck

every time he told you to switch to a new orientation, you showed him without fail, your skills

it was the bow pose that had made him release in your mouth, seeing how your hands were bound behind you pushed him far off the edge

"i'm cancelling the session with the other person. by the time i'm done, i want you fully naked and ready for me to fuck the shit out of you."

[the-californicationist]

What would your fave position to be in with the 141, either individually or together... asking for a friend... <3

Mmm. Well. If it were me, personally?

(NSFW/MDNI under cut)

For Gaz, it’s gonna have to be big spoon little spoon. He’d be making us both late for work every morning, turning my hips just right so that he could slip his heavy morning wood inside. He’d start off so soft and gentle, but by the time he was stuffing himself down to the root of his huge cock, I’d wake up, feeling the wetness he’d been busy creating, nearly choking from how full I feel. My body would be rocking back and forth as he had his way with me. And when I chastise him for making me miss the train? Just placating little excuses murmured between kisses — “I’m already workin’, babes. Can’t ya feel your man? Hard at work…”

For Ghost, it’s the cowgirl to lotus to missionary pipeline. He’d start off flat on his back, demanding some face sitting or a sixty-nine situation. Then, he’d stick me right on top, egging me on — “Lemme see those fuckin’ tits bounce, love. Good girl.” Then, he’d get too bothered, unable to hold back, too hungry, too much of a control freak. So he’d sit up, wrapping his legs behind me, moving my hips with his hands and grinding me into a shaking trembling mess. Finally, when I could barely remember my own name, he’d press forward, pinning me on my back, arching over me like a shield, telling me — “Shh, shh. Tha’s alright, love. You don’t need to fuckin’ talk. Suck on my fingers like it’s my prick, yeah? Tha’s it… all the way in, there ya go.”

For Soap, it has to be legs-over-shoulders. That big Scottish cock is curved and I will be taking no notes! None. It’s bent at a cruel angle and perfectly shaped to drag his ruddy head right across my g-spot with every stroke. He’d love to press my thighs to my chest, going deeper or harder, his hands staying busy with my clit or my nipples or my mouth, always finding new buttons to push. He’d especially enjoy ripping mind-breaking orgasms from me, shoving my vibrator against my clit as he fucked me, teasing me with it and saying shit like — “Is she gonnae come again for me, bonnie? I ken there’s one more in her, and I willnae stop until I have it…”

And for my darling captain, John Price, it’s nothing but straight-up, bone-shaking, soul-rattling doggy. After a long hard day of dealing with unimaginable bullshit? I’m on all fours in the fucking foyer, face pressed into the hardwood, pussy spread open like a cheap whore, stuffed full of cock. When he sees me in that tight pair of jeans that he likes a little too much? There I am, shirt raked down below my breasts, back arching as I’m bent over the kitchen counter, his meaty palm wrapped around my neck, bruising my hips with how hard he’s rutting into me from behind. In the middle of the night, his fat prick drooling and heavy, swaying between his huge thighs? He’ll fist my hair in one hand and grope my ass with the other as he breeds me, snarling into my ear, “Filthy fuckin’ slag. Whose cunt is this? Hmm? Nuh-uh. Say my real name…” And he won’t come until I call him Daddy.

But all together? Preferably a perfect seal: Price and Soap fighting to fit inside my pussy, Gaz stuffing himself deep in my ass, and Ghost filling up my throat!

What about you, anon?? Got any favorites?

[lovebeatriceplz]

Soap! Who wasn't really sure what to expect from the medic who was joining the team. However, he was more than happy to introduce himself.

Soap! Who found you quite pleasant to be around. You were sweet, gentle and good at your job. This place needed a little eye candy anyways.

Soap! Who couldn't help but feel even the movements of your fingers. Every graze, every trace of his skin. You were simply doing your job, patching him up but it had his stomach doing flips.

Soap! Who falls into a mini (deep) delusion. Surely he was special, right?. There was no way his teammates received the same treatment, that level of intimacy and softness was for him only. Atleast, that's what he told Simon.

Soap! Who finds himself visiting the medbay for the most irrelevant reasons. He twisted his ankle? Medbay, He got a scratch? Medbay, He's feeling peckish? Medbay. It's really all an excuse to blatantly flirt with you.

Soap! Who only becomes more confident when you put up with it. Making bolder moves, grabbing your wrists when you try to apply an ointment, or leaning way closer than necessary.

Soap! Who thinks about you on missions, the safety of an entire nation is a lot of pressure to carry, so he worries about you're safety instead.

Soap! Who secretly beams when the squad refers to you as "Johnny's little nurse". It was even better when you tried to laugh off your embarrassment, begging him to tell them not to call you that, he wonders what else you'll beg for.

Soap! Who ends up with his hands under your vest and his lips... everywhere after a long mission. The door was probably locked, he's not too sure.

Soap! Who will always come back to you, because you're "Johnny's little nurse". His nurse, his girl.

[inneedofthearpyandbitches]

Ghost: I’m so glad we’re friends

Soap, mid thrust: what?

[killerpancakeburger]

Jealousy headcanons

🧼 & 💀

I also have scenarios partially based on those hcs incoming ☆

Tags: Price'sAssistant!Reader, fluff, protectiveness, possessiveness (but wholesome).

SOAP:

Was actually working on asking you out. Needs it to be perfect. Getting maniac about it.

Outraged when another guy makes a move first. Especially one that mediocre. Although if he was honest, he doesn't think a single dude on base is worthy of you. Yes even himself

So petty. Will hold a grudge forever. You'll have all but forgotten about it, but not him. Oh no. He mentally branded his rival for life. Dude is in his sights. He won't do anything that would put the other's life at risk, but make his life suck? Easy peasy. Will back down when the other back down. ...For now.

Will switch your jacket with his. Yes it's childish, so what? Only when Gaz mentions that if you two are dating in secret, you’re not being very discreet, and once you’re done choking on your drink, you learn that there's MACTAVISH written in big bold letters on your back. (Didnt notice cos you have the same type of jacket as em in the same size since they didnt have one in your own)

Very vocal and agitated about his distaste and resentment. Rants with hand gestures, forever if you don't stop him. Accent and slang getting more and more scottish as he goes.

“Ain't you all sunshines and rainbows today!” you tease him, a bit overwhelmed by his fervor, and by how personally he's taking this. You assume it's a TF141 thing - they've always been protective of you since you're the civilian of the team and the least experimented, even acting as buffer between you and other soldiers. You’re their assistant, their teammate, and no one else's.

Unbeknown to you, your wannabe suitor had boasted about the move he made on you to other soldiers. To make himself look good, and to get some kind of reassurance. The minute Soap heard mention of your name, he couldn’t help but join the group to listen in.

Galvanized by the feedbacks of his mates, the guy gets bolder in his remarks. Johnny will never report to you what he heard - it would only hurt you. When he calls out to the man, the private still doesn't realize his mistake. He replies to the sergeant with enthusiasm, thinking he's here to join the locker talk.

To think that guy dared to think Soap was on his side - would sympathize -, simply because of some implicit bro code. He was boiling until now, but that was what made him snap.

Before he could even think about it, he already had knocked the private on his ass with one punch. The altercation was broken up before he could do more.

He's itching for a fight, but he'll settle for a punching bag. Unless the guy intimidated you, or made you uncomfortable in any way. Then he's already leaving the room after you’re done telling him about it, and if you stop him, he tries to convince you it's for the best. Letting him deal his own brand of justice. It's kind of his specialty, after all.

Either you give in, and you two talk again afterwards, or you resist, despite his arguments turning into supplications. In both cases you end up asking the one burning question: "Why does this bother you so much?"

He suddenly looks like a child caught red-handed with his hand in the cookie jar. Avoiding your gaze. Grumbling to himself. You have to insist for him to make his speech audible again. Replies with another question. "Why wouldn’t it?"

You sigh, cross your arms. "You know what I mean. I never saw you so fired up over something that wasn’t work-related." You eventually manage to extract a confession from him.

"He... he's not your type." More grumbling. You raise your eyebrows in disbelief, before a smirk stretches your lips. "Oh? And what is my type, Sergeant?"

He looks almost pained for a second, and you feel guilty, even though you don't know what for. Then his expression changes, to one that reminds you of a condemned man in front of the gallows - a blend of resignation and resolve. He wraps his arms around you and hides his face in the crook of your neck. "Don't tease me, Bonnie." Before you can comfort him, moved but still confused, he adds: "Or I won't be able to hold back anymore."

You try to remove from his spot, but his embrace prevents you from backing down and his head doesn't budge. "Johnny... look at me. Tell me what's wrong. Let me help. Please?"

He finally meets your gaze, forehead almost touching yours. He looks more vulnerable than you've ever seen. "Go out with me?" Before you can answer, he adds: "I'll be so, so good to ye, swear it. Hell, ye've got me wrapped 'round yer finger already."

GHOST:

In denial about his feelings for you. Doesn't stop him from feeling super possessive though.

Two words: starring problem. Whether it's menacingly at the other guy, or at you, to make his disapproval known, just in case the absurd idea to accept his advances happened to cross your mind.

You're way too good for that bloke who doesn't even have the balls to face you himself (he left a note on your desk). Who the bloody hell does he think he is?

If the guy happened to scare you or coerce you in any way, he's done for. Gone. You'll never know what Ghost did, but you never saw the dude again. And when you ask around, no one seems to understand who you’re refering to...

If he's not starring at you from afar, he's with you, magically appearing at random times of the day.

When you ask him for explainations about his behaviour, he grumbles that he knows about the private's confession, and how that bloody wanker is obviously beneath you, and that you could find so much better.

You never planned to accept the other guy's advances anyway, but you’re terribly intrigued by Ghost's unusual behavior. He brags about his own skill here and there, but doesn't waste time ranting about others' lack thereof.

"I don't know about 'much better'", you argue, only half-serious. The men who've approached you can be counted on the fingers of one hand, and none of them was... adequate. But you don't really want to talk about it with your tall and dark lieutenant, a man that manages to intimate you as much as he charms you.

The sentence barely left your lips that the creaking of his chair makes you look up, and you can read something akin to "you can’t be serious" in his eyes before he stops in front of your desk. "Simon?" you call out, confused, but instead of answering, he cradles your face with one hand, the other lifting his mask halfway.

"Bite me if you don't want this" is the only warning you get before his mouth meets yours. You keep your teeth to yourself. He overwhelms you completely with just one kiss. When he releases you, you need a moment to pull yourself together.

"How's that for much better?"

[codnasties]

just a horny thought but the way i would fucking KILL for soap to let me worship his abs like this, licking and kissing him up creating a trail on the way to his pretty dick 💖👄💖

[machveil]

This is soap coded

I need to kiss him on the mouth, I would be so amused and delighted

[angel5ofp0rn]

Price’s kids each having a favorite uncle (Gaz, Soap, Simon) is my favorite thought

Price is pissed that his daughter speaks with uncle Soap’s Scottish accent and says things like “Steamin’ Jesus!” when she spills her juice or breaks a crayon

His son, bless his heart, took it to heart when uncle Si said that he’s so big and strong because he eats his spinach (because he overheard that the li’l man said he hates spinach). Poor kid gags and chokes it down every day, no matter what his mum has made for dinner

Having uncle Kyle as the favorite made sense to Price… until Gaz spends the whole weekend teaching the little ones how to prank their old dad; setting up a whoopee cushion in his recliner, making prank calls from Gaz’s phone, ding-dong ditching from the front door, then running to the back door and doing it again

[penguinbuttcheeks]

johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x gn!loser reader

(nsfw minors dni) *

₊˚.༄:፣ 𓏲࿐࿔ ˚˖°☾☽ °˖˚𓏲࿐࿔ ₊˚.༄:፣₊˚.༄:፣ 𓏲࿐࿔ ˚˖°☾☽

god he can’t get enough of you. the lenses of your glasses fogged up, teary eyes peering up at him with your mouth stuffed full of his cock.

you’re a mess. drool running down your chin and chest - you can barely breathe - let alone see with the amount of built up condensation obscuring your vision

he relishes in your whimpered gags, hands roughly batting away your own that reach up to adjust your frames, crooked and sliding down the bridge of your nose.

johnny loves the mess. loves seeing you slowly reduced to nothing but a cock drunk, babbling mess.

“deeper bon. you can go deeper” he chides, clicking his tongue.

it’s a demand, an order that he knows you’d never deny him, taking more of his length despite your body instinctively protesting the intrusion in your throat.

you flush in humiliation when he all but laughs at your vain attempts to take more of him, thumb gently swiping at the saliva continuing to seep past your lips, eyes trained on another tear that runs down your cheek. johnny’s condescending scoff is quickly cut off when you sputter.

he’s a disgusting brute, lips pulled back in a snarl as you choke around him, more muttered curses falling from his tongue at the tightness engulfed around his angry, hardened cock.

he swears when you gag again, walls spasming around his sensitive tip. he throws his head back with a gargled groan, fingers tightening in your hair when he finally cums.

god. you’re such a fucking loser. he may just have to reward you for taking him so well tonight.

₊˚.༄:፣ 𓏲࿐࿔ ˚˖°☾☽ °˖˚𓏲࿐࿔ ₊˚.༄:፣₊˚.༄:፣ 𓏲࿐࿔ ˚˖°☾☽

[cas-backwards-tie]

The 141 men and their favorite kisses

Warnings: None.

A/N: This is for @vikki-tikki-tavii , I hope you enjoy 💕 there’s no content warnings since I went sfw with this, but if you guys want more, you can always request it! 😉

Price: John loves to kiss the back of your hands. The epitome of gentleman, he can’t deny that ghosting his lips over the backs of your hands isn’t him stalling as it’s the only form of restraint he can bear. Then, it’s quick and firm forehead kisses, a sign of safety being able to take his time and plant it there, able to run his hands over your hair one last time before departing. It’s solid, secure, and something to remember each other by when he’s gone. Eventually his semblance slips and it’s quick and desperate kisses planted firmly against each other’s lips, a needed reminder that he’s home, and you’re both okay.

Ghost: With Simon it’s different; it starts out with touches, a faint run of his hand over the small of your back, a hand lingering on your shoulder. It’s hard to kiss with the mask, after all. His favorite place to kiss you is right beside your brow by your temple. Much like his superior, it’s a firm and comforting knowing that you’re there, and things are okay. You’re both safe. Intimately, it’s the knuckles. He’ll leaving tiny little pecks as his lips ghost (haha) over your knuckles as if trying to memorize every inch of your skin with his lips. Never does he want to forget the feel of you, his rock, in moments of need when motivation is slipping or he loses himself. Kisses with him are soft and tender, fleeting, yet full of sparks.

Gaz: Kyle can’t help it as he presses quick kisses to your cheek upon departure, the affectionate action leaving lasting emotions with the both of you. He’s gentle and sweet, often opting to kiss you anywhere and everywhere he can. He doesn’t have a preference between your forehead, temple, cheeks, nose, or lips when it comes to the menial moments. Anywhere he can plant a kiss and get a reaction out of you, he relishes. Though when and if he gets a say, his favorite would have to be your lips, most definitely. Taking the time to slow down and really feel the dance of your lips against one another? He relishes the traditional sentiment of your lips being reserved for only him, and him alone.

Soap: It happens without thought, the feelings and tension between the two of you snapping when he suddenly kisses your nose. He brushes it off as a silly thing, but it’s the place that he often loves to surprise you with by planting a quick peck on the tip of your nose. Always achieving a multitude of silly expressions and reactions. If he’s leaving, he’ll leave one hell of a kiss on your lips, the passion and fierce force of his strength seeping in as he leaves you with a reminder of just who you’ll be waiting for while he’s gone. While his favorite may be the back or side of your neck, it’s something he’s not often able to indulge in. Therefore, he settles, like his comrade, for anywhere and everywhere he can kiss you.

[oceantornadoo]

the cabin in the highlands (johnny mactavish x f!reader)

reminder that i suck at scottish accents

--

“johnny, why did you bring me here?”

he flicked the ash off his cigarette and raised it to his mouth.

“ye said ye were gonna be lonely on the next break.”

actually, you had said you were going to be alone, which is different. you wanted to be alone because you needed a break from this. the overbearing presence of johnny, his scent cloying with your nostrils and settling in the air. every joke. every playful punch, every brush of the waist was wrapped in your mind like a twisted christmas present, with no end and no beginning. you treasured your moments together but couldn’t make sense of them at all.

of course, johnny didn't care about any of that, which was why you were smoking outside a cabin in the highlands, eyes tracking the fog rolling over the distant mountains. you could have been relaxing in your flat near base - alone, sure, but at least you'd be at ease. instead, your heart rate was perpetually elevated, shoulders bunched at every movement of johnny's. it was quiet here, no gunfire or commands in your ear. just you and johnny, in his small cabin that he liked to come to in between deployments. "air clears everythin' up 'ere." he had said, pointing to his skull, where the bullet had grazed. you couldn't deny him that - it was beautiful and peaceful and calm, your thoughts slowing to the pace of a dripping faucet when you had a moment to yourself. not now, of course.

it was early morning, the sun just cresting over the horizon. bit chilly, but not enough to see your breath. johnny had honest-to-god rocking chairs on his back porch, wooden creaky things you both sat in as you watched the sunrise in silence. you wrapped your hands tighter around your tea mug as johnny finished his cigarette, a habit he seemed to have picked up from ghost in the past few weeks. you'd thought you brought warm enough clothes, leggings and sweats packed to the brim, but clearly you underestimated the kind of cold in the highlands. even with the summer air, the early morning chill sank deep into your bones. "ye're shakin' like a leaf, lass." you shook your head, taking another sip of your tea. "still waking up, johnny. unlike you, i try to sleep in when we're not deployed. still catching up from three weeks ago." he grunted, finishing his cigarette and putting out the stub on his ashtray. you tracked his movements, eyes tracing the veins and battle worn callouses of his hands, disappearing into his thick fleece jacket.

"c'mere." you must have heard him wrong. you turned to him, furrowed eyebrows asking a silent question. "i'm sorry?" he grinned, patting his lap. "am warm. c'mon." you rolled your eyes, averting your gaze to the mountains again. "don't be dumb, johnny. i'm fine." silence. and then, a large hand appeared in your vision, plucking the mug out of your hands. he came back, tucking one arm under your knees and the other around your back, tugging you up into his arms. "johnny! i was comfy!" he laughed into the nape of your neck, mohawk cutting off your field of vision. he smelled good, like pine and the remnants of last night's fire, home mixed up into a scent.

johnny maneuvered himself back into his seat, plopping you into his lap. "better, bon?" you nodded meekly, tucking yourself into his lap. he was warm all over, your forehead coming to rest on his collarbone. he ran one hand up and down your thighs, tracing the lines of your pajama pants, while the other hand secured you against him. "thin pants." he murmured, almost to himself. you weren't sure where to put your hands, suddenly thrown by the absurdity of your position, curled up in your fellow sergeant's lap. your ass was directly against his crotch, rubbing against his sweatpants. you swore you could feel something getting harder against you, choosing to ignore it completely. "johnny, this is hardly appropriate we're-" "not at work. jus' ye an' me." you blew out a harsh breath. "i don't know what to think, johnny." what to think about his offer to go see his cabin. what to think about accepting and following through. what to think about wearing his sweatshirt, sitting in his lap. what to think about being the only two people around for miles. "don't. lemme hold you, mo chridhe." you gave up, sinking into his arms.

your focus turned from the mountains to him. his scent, wrapping you in his embrace. the softness of his fleece jacket. the safety of his arms, still petting you like something precious. out of nowhere, an idea came to your mind. you turned slowly, pulling a bit out of his embrace. he grumbled and you shushed him with a glare. gently, you took your hand out of your lap to run it through his hair. your theory was correct. this harsh military man kept his mohawk butter soft, your hand passing easily through the strands. you pressed your nails in a bit, just to experiment, and were rewarded with a low growl, reverberating in your thighs. he closed his eyes, blue gaze now hidden, leaning into your touch. you shifted your weight, pulling out of his lap to straddle him instead, thighs surrounding his own like a vice. he pulled you forward, eyes still closed, hands digging into your pajamas as he forced you as close as possible. your core rubbed against him, clothed cunt rocking in his lap, reveling in the hardness there. your hands were still exploring his hair, dragging your nails this way and that, tracking his every groan and tucking it in somewhere hidden in your heart. whenever this bubble popped, whenever he got bored and moved on from this tug of war, you'd hoard those groans like a dragon protecting her treasure. his hands had traveled to your ass, pushing you even closer as his thumbs dug into your hips, circling. he gave you a roll of his hips, cock pressing against your aching cunt through layers of fabric.

"johnny, feels good." he did it again, catching your clit at a perfect angle. you let out a moan, uninhibited and from your center, and felt him grow even harder under you. you dropped your hands from his hair, forehead resting on his shoulder. "what if- fuck. just once, johnny? won't get awkward after, i promise." he stopped suddenly, hips falling against the chair. you let out a sound of protest, moving your head from his shoulder. "shit, i'm sorry i didn't mean-" he shut you up with a kiss: harsh, bruising, possessive. his hands came up to craddle your face, one moving south to grip your jaw in an almost-chokehold. he tugged you closer by the neck, earning a moan from your lips. you felt him smile against you, all content, before he dove back in, dominating the mood. coming out of your shock, you kissed him back with a fervor, biting his bottom lip slightly. johnny pulled back, suddenly all business.

"dinnae want t' fuck ye." oh. "then what...? why am i here?" he shook his head, removing a hand from your neck to rub it through his mohawk, then down his face. "d'ye like th' cabin?" the change in subject threw you. "the- the cabin? yeah, it's nice. i'm confused, how does that relate?" his eyes found yours again, searing into your soul. "it's fer ye. us." oh. your mouth dropped and he laughed at the sight, his honeyed sound soothing your nerves. "for us? what? why?" he smirked, all cocky now that he'd recovered from whatever that was. "dinnae want ye once, chridhe. want t' wake up with ye here every mornin. watch th' sunrise with ye in ma lap. no eyes, jus' us."

wildly, some part of your brain was still functioning, recalling all those interactions that had brought you here. your first duo mission, screaming at each other over comms. when you lost your pocketknife gifted to you from your last captain and johnny gave you his own, which now traveled with you everywhere. shitty safehouses with no mattresses, sharing sleeping bags to stay warm. his hands, practically paws, always around your waist, keeping you close. movie nights in the common room, organized by yours truly, always ending with your head on his arm, using his bicep as a pillow. dancing on bar dancefloors, drunk logic making it ok to hide your face in his neck, johnny's arms always on the top of your ass. that one fight with that creepy sergeant from another team, your pleas the only thing to stop johnny from breaking his neck. and finally, the ring around your fourth finger (right hand, not left) in your favorite metal. something he had presented to you privately with pink cheeks, scratching his neck and murmuring something about found it at a flea market, even though you both knew it had to cost hundreds and just happened to be your exact size.

"johnny, you're my best friend. what if it-" you hiccupped suddenly, overwhelmed. "what if it doesn't work. what if in five years, we're screaming at each other over small stuff. god forbid, what if it's silent? i can't do it without you, johnny. fuck." the tears in your eyes were threatening to fall, the image of johnny blurry. he shook his head with a small smile, fingers gently brushing the tears out of your eyes. "aye an' if it does? five years an' yer ma wife? breakfast watchin' th' sun, christmas wi' th' lads, bairns in a few more? no doubtin' us." he slipped that ring off your hand, transferring it to your left, fourth finger. you emitted a small gasp, the metal warming under his touch. "please." his voice broke on the last syllable; your stupidly insane loveable hunk of a man had a few tears in his blue eyes. the sight nearly broke you, and you vowed he'd never have to beg you again. "yes. yes with you, johnny."

and like all best promises, you sealed it with a kiss.