#captain mactavish in glasses is doing things to me

[brewed-pangolin]

"Yer starin' again, love."

Soap's smooth, baritone voice called to you in the vastness of your enraptured stare. Subtle memories of a smile returned into the lines of your lips, pulling yourself back into the realm of existence with a languid whisper rolling off your tongue.

"Sorry, John. Still getting used to them."

"Aye. Take it ya like 'em then?"

Your cheeks burned with the unending affection for the man you had grown to love. Gaze lingering on the newly adorned carbon fiber rims surrounding his eyes, drawing ever more attention to the cerulean stare within.

"Yeah. I like 'em."

"Hm. Still getting used to 'em m'self, lass." He muttered, repositioning the frames on the bridge of his nose to regain focus on the writing in his hand.

"Perhaps you need better reading material," you interjected with a cracked smile.

His blue eyes rolled above the black rim like a current over a pebbled stream. His expression accentuated by a prominently arched brow as he laid the morning paper aside for something much more appealing.

"And what would you have in mind, love? Enlighten me."

You bit the inside of your mouth to keep the smart comment at bay. Preferring a more elusive method of enticing him rather than the usual gritty temperament.

"I think you know what I mean, John."

He shook his head with a heavy brow, a drawn out sigh parting through his lips as his fingers grasped at the arm of his glasses.

"Yer 'opless, lass. Y'know that?"

You raised a hand to halt him mid removal.

"No. Keep them on."

Soap paused. His eyes narrowed, brimming with glorious intent with a curl to his lips that sent a shockwave straight to your core.

"A'right. I'll keep 'em on. But if ya break 'em with them thighs, I'm gonnae break yer back."

"Promise?"

His eyes darkened like an incoming storm within the black, polished frames, a distant rumble echoing deep in his chest as you gingerly hiked up your night gown.

"Heid yer weesht"

Rising from his chair to his full stature, a towering mogul of a man as he marched, knelt down, and prepared to please his most adoring fan.

"Is this gonna become an'ther fetish, lass?"

"Don't know yet. Didn't think I had a thing for an old man in glasses until now."

"Old?"

You had to refrain from letting out a laugh as his growing scowl scolded you. Removing it from his features with the sight of your glistening cunt while he brought himself between the valley of your thighs.

"Do yerself a favor an' keep that smart mouth shut fer five minutes, an' let this old man take care a'ya."

Captain MacTavish Masterlist

[libingan]

— captain snugglebear.

there is something so funny about calling a very masculine man the cheesiest and corniest petnames

SORRY IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO POST ANYTHING IM ACTUALLY SO EXHAUSTED LOL

the bar was quiet, bathed in the warm glow of dim pendant lights and the soft hum of mellow jazz playing from a dusty speaker in the corner. it was the sort of place people came to for conversation, not chaos, and the perfect spot for task force 141 to unwind after a long mission.

soap was leaning back in his chair, a pint of ale in hand as he recounted a story to gaz, who chuckled quietly, his own glass half-empty. ghost, as always, was a quiet presence, seated at the end of the table with a small tumbler of whiskey, his posture relaxed but ever watchful. price was at the center of it all, one arm draped over the back of his chair, his beer untouched for now, his gravelly laugh filling the air as he chimed in here and there.

the door swung open with a soft creak, and you stepped inside, scanning the room until your eyes landed on the familiar group. you couldn’t help but smile when you spotted john, his cap tipped low, his commanding presence impossible to miss even in a setting as unassuming as this.

you strolled over, casual and easy, but with just enough pep in your step to signal that you had something planned. john caught sight of you first, his lips twitching upward in a small smile, but the moment you reached the table, you decided to crank things up a notch.

“hi, my precious sugarplum,” you greeted in the sweetest voice you could muster, sliding up next to him and placing a hand on his broad shoulder. “did you miss me, my wittle cuddle-muffin?”

the effect was immediate. soap froze mid-sip, choking on his drink as he struggled not to burst out laughing. gaz blinked at you, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief, before a wide grin spread across his face. even ghost turned his head slightly, giving the impression that if anyone could make him break his stoic demeanor, it might just be you.

price didn’t even flinch. his jaw tightened slightly, and he exhaled through his nose, but he remained calm, setting his beer down with deliberate care. “really, love?” he muttered, his voice low and laced with exasperation.

“oh, don’t be like that, snugglebear,” you cooed, leaning in closer, unbothered by the amused stares of his team. “i just couldn’t resist saying hi to my lovely babycakes.”

soap couldn’t hold it in any longer. he wheezed, slapping the table as he laughed, his voice cutting through the calm of the bar. “captain—babycakes?! och, that’s bloody brilliant!”

gaz joined in, shaking his head as he grinned. “mate, you’ve got some explaining to do.”

even ghost let out an amused huff, the corners of his eyes crinkling beneath his mask.

price pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath about never bringing you near the lads again. but when he looked back at you, there was a spark of something soft in his eyes, a warmth that betrayed the stern exterior he usually wore like armor.

“you done embarrassing me yet?” he asked, though his tone was more resigned than annoyed.

“not even close, sweetpea,” you replied, grinning as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “now, scoot over. i’m joining you.”

he sighed, shaking his head as he slid over to make room, but there was the faintest curve to his lips, a sign that no matter how much you teased him, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

soap, however, wasn’t letting it go anytime soon. “oi, cap,” he called through his laughter, “ye reckon we should start callin’ ye that on ops? snugglebear, aye?

price shot him a look that could have silenced a lesser man. “say it and see what happens, mactavish.”

you leaned in slightly then, lowering your voice so only john could hear. “aw, don’t pout, snugglebear,” you teased softly, the playful lilt in your tone enough to make his jaw tighten.

price’s eyes flicked to yours, the faintest glimmer of something dangerous sparking beneath his calm exterior. he leaned closer, his voice a quiet rumble just for you. “keep this up,” he murmured, “and i’ll make sure you regret it later.”

your grin widened as you tilted your head, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “promise?” you whispered back, your tone dripping with challenge.

his response was immediate. a firm pinch to your ass, quick but precise, made you jolt slightly, your grin shifting into a breathless laugh.

“cheeky,” he muttered, his tone low enough to make your stomach flutter. his hand didn’t linger, but the look he gave you—equal parts exasperation and fondness—made your heart skip all the same.

“you love it,” you teased, your smile smug as you leaned back, entirely unbothered by the flush creeping up his neck.

soap, noticing the subtle exchange, leaned forward. “what was that, then? somethin’ ye’d like tae share wi’ the class, cap?”

“nothing,” price replied smoothly, his voice steady as ever as he picked up his beer and took a slow sip.

you, however, were feeling bold. “just my teddy bear reminding me how much he loves me,” you said with a cheeky grin.

price exhaled heavily, tipping his cap lower to shadow his eyes as he muttered, “god help me.”

[lostintransist]

Secrets Are For Grown Ups | Part 3

CW: Paperwork. I hate paperwork.

Shout out to the fabulous @xbirdiex. It's better than reading my words for the first time because she is so good at articulting to me how everything makes her feel.

Part 1 here.

John pulled off his glasses before rubbing his eyes so hard the kaleidoscope of colors blurred his vision for seconds after he blinked to clear them. He needed to retire. The years of being trapped at a desk and only let out for training had sapped him of the will to continue. He had given the greater good all that he could, but if one more file got sent to him as half digital half paper copy he would start launching things out the window or possibly set his office ablaze.

He had stayed longer than he should have again but the frozen dish of lasagna and beer at his flat did not entice him home. The trill of his ringing phone pulled him from his languorous thoughts. Number hadn’t been saved in his phone. Odd. The same tickle in his brain that saved him on countless missions twitched now. Answering it in silence he waited.

“Is this Captain Price?”

“Not a captain anymore, but this is Price. May I ask who is calling?”

The woman on the other end blew out a breath.

“I worked with you several years back on a visa from the US. I’m not sure if you remember me,” her tone indicated a question as she searched for more words.

John could only remember one such woman in his time as a captain. You popped into his mind in technicolor.

“I do remember. I haven’t heard from you since you left for your family emergency. Has something come up?”

He swore he could feel you vacillating on the other end of the line. You had been so painfully expressive in your communications the year you had worked for him. For you to call out of the blue after so many years, something had to be wrong.

“Yes. You could say that.” You blow out a slow breath before continuing. “This is a…a bit of a long story. Do you have a moment?”

Settling back into his office chair with a creak John gets more comfortable.

“For you, I can take all day.”

Leave had been approved fairly quickly. John had an overabundance of it that brass and the HR and accounting teams hounded him about taking. They all claimed it made their jobs harder if he let it build up so high. He could take off six months without putting a dent in his overall amount of leave. Also if he weren’t there to bitch about the paperwork brass would more likely pass it off to someone else.

Last-minute flights were a pain in the ass to schedule as well as to pay for but like everything else in his life money tended to pile up because he rarely had time to spend it. John packed the same way he would for a long mission, though this time he packed his good underwear. You had offered to let him stay with you after he provided the contact information for one Nyla MacTavish.

His phone rang as he zipped up his large suitcase. Glancing at the name John wished he had a cigar to add a hint of nicotine-laced clarity to his thoughts. Flicking open his phone with a thumb John lifted it to his ear.

“Been expecting your call.”

“That’s never a good way to start a conversation, John.”

“I agree. Now tell me what happened?”

“Did you know?” The quiet, pained question could bore through bone. Simon, one of his muppets, his strongest men, sounded on the point of tears.

“Not until a few hours ago,” pinching the phone between his ear and his shoulder John settled his wheeled luggage on the floor.

“Good,” Simon repeated it to himself as if confirming his belief in John stood strong. “I had to dose Johnny with part of an edible he didn’t know we had in the house. He wanted to break down her door for answers.”

The idea of Simon handing Johnny an innocuous candy or baked good to dose him into a stupor that wouldn’t lead to criminal charges caught John as funny.

“I think your husband is going to have something to say about that in the morning.”

Simon snorted, “Knowing him he is going to have a lot more than a single thing to say.”

“Mmm, you might be right.” John paused to lock his flat door behind him. “Give me twenty-four hours Simon. I am headed to the airport right now and out to you.”

“Did she invite you or are you coming to keep us in line?” Simon’s voice edged into Ghost territory.

“For your information, I was invited,” John replied, mock offended.

“You would have come anyway.”

John could hear the rolling of his eyes even across the line.

“Yes, but this way I get to meet your boys and don’t have to pay for a hotel.”

Simon sucked in a breath.

“Boys? We thought she had a boy and a girl.”

“Nope, she clearly referred to them as the boys or her boys.”

A wet cough cleared the phone line.

“Okay. Let us know when we can meet with her and discuss this all.” Simon sounded defeated, unmoored.

“Are you wanting her back?” John asked carefully as he stepped onto the street to wait for his cab.

“Not…not like before. Johnny and I are happy as we are, but if the boys are either of ours we both want to be involved. We deserve that much.”

John didn’t know if the word deserved had any place in this sticky of a situation but he let it slide. That would be for you to explain.

“I will see you in a day or so, Simon. Keep your husband on a short leash until I get there. We both know explosions from Johnny weren’t only from bombs.”

A light chuckle from Simon is the only warning before the call ends. John sighs through his nose as he tucks his phone away.

What a hell of a story this would turn out to be.

Secrets Masterlist | Masterlist

@love-kha1 @bdbdhshhs @persephone-kore-law @vmaxis @splaterparty0-0 @momowhoo @talia-the-gemini @redkarmakai @aethelwyneleigh27 @asexualbuthorny

[nastybuckybarnes]

Stowaway

Pairing: Ghost X Reader

Summary: You find something fun and want to share it with the skull-face man.

Warnings: Language, allusions to violence, fluff, slow burn

Word Count: 2.4K

A/n: another part of my ghost x mouse thing. if any of you have seen Freeform's Siren, i imagine reader to sound a bit like Ryn when she speaks. if y'all have no idea what im talking about, thats okay too, i still love ya!

~*~

You watch the black vehicle as it rolls to a stop, all but the driver emerging.

This is it. This is your one chance and you cannot fuck it up.

Taking a few deep breaths to steady yourself, you slowly keep forward, keeping your back to the wall and successfully keeping yourself hidden in the shadows.

The men outside the armoured vehicle move away, toward whatever their target of the day is, and you use that to your advantage.

You crouch down, the darkness of the night your best friend as you slink closer and closer to the vehicle, glass bottle held tightly in your grasp.

Finally, with your back to the bed of the vehicle, you throw the bottle as far as you can, wincing at the sharp shatter.

Instead of dwelling on making a sound, something that you’ve been carefully trained never to do, you climb into the back of the vehicle and quietly bury yourself under duffle bags of supplies as the driver emerges.

You hear the driver get out, listen as his heavy boots lead over to where the bottle broke, and you let out a soft breath.

Safe for now.

You snuggle up beneath the bags, steeling yourself for a long night.

Somehow, even with the velcro, clips, and pins digging into your flesh, you manage to doze off, waking up only when you feel the vehicle jerk to a halt, the brakes squeaking lightly.

“Good work, boys! First round’s on me tonight,” a muffled voice says.

You tense up as the tailgate gets dropped, bags being lifted from you one by one.

Finally, there’s a pause.

“Uh, Captain?”

You’ve been spotted, you know that, and you knew it would happen. It doesn’t make it any less terrifying.

You’ve seen firsthand what these men can do. You only hope the one you’re familiar with will be around.

“What’s going on, MacTavish?”

Another duffle gets lifted from you and you squint against the harsh light, blinking furiously but making no other move to get up lest you startle one of them.

“What’s this?” The older man asks, his face slowly coming into view.

“Looks like we’ve got a stowaway,” the Scottish one says.

You still make no movements, staying perfectly still as they toss the other bags off of you.

One of them then grabs you by the arm and hauls you to your feet, making you stumble the slightest bit.

“Gimme your hands.”

You don’t fight them as they snap cool metal cuffs around your wrists. Nor do you fight them when they force you to your knees on the hard concrete floor.

Two of them stand farther back with their hands on their guns, the driver and the Scot, and the older man, the Captain, stands tall in front of you.

"Now, why were you hidin' out in the back of our truck, hmm? What're you doin' here? What are you hoping to find?"

You look at each man carefully, frowning when none of their eyes match the ones in your memory.

"Ghost," you finally say.

Soap and Price exchange glances before the older man leans forward, crouching down to be at eye level with you.

"Come again?"

You huff out a frustrated breath then point toward his breast pocket where a pen and a pad of paper lie.

He glances down at it and then, after a moment of careful consideration, slides the items across the floor to you.

You’re quick to scribble something down as neatly as you can with your hands bound, sliding the objects back over to him once you've finished.

There, on the paper, lies the exact same skull that has been strewn on walls and windows, leading them to hostages and intel.

"Ghost. Or no talk."

The men get tense, the two in the back looking at their Captain, waiting for his next move.

Price cocks his head to the side and gives it a shake.

“Listen, sweetheart. You seem nice enough, yeah? Let me tell you somethin’,” he leans closer, dropping his voice to a whisper.

“You’re on my base. You don’t get to call the shots around here. If you wanna sweat it out, fine. I’ll go grab a drink and a nice hot shower, and then when I get back we’ll see if you feel like talking. And don’t worry about being alone - Gaz over there will be keepin’ a close eye on you. Got it?”

His threat hangs in the air for a long while, but all you do is press your lips together and shift back off your knees to sit cross-legged on the floor.

Swallowing his irritation, Price straightens up and leaves the room, Soap hot on his heels.

“Where’re you goin’?” Soap asks when they’re out of the parkade.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere. You’re gonna go get the Lieutenant.”

With a nod of his head, Soap is jogging toward Ghost’s quarters.

It takes him no more than five minutes to return, and with him is the big burly man you asked for.

“Better have a damn good reason for gettin’ me up at this hour,” he grumbles, black balaclava covering his face.

He’s dressed in his tac pants and a black t-shirt, thick arms on full display.

Price only nods toward the window he’s staring through, watching you as you look around the garage.

“What’s she doin’ here?” Ghost asks, brows drawing together.

Price chuckles dryly, “was hoping you could tell me. She snuck into the back of the truck unnoticed and stowed away all the way back to base. She’s been… agreeable for the most part. But she won’t talk.”

He’s hardly surprised.

“Drew this and said ‘Ghost or no talk’. Accent’s not from here.” Price turns and looks up at the lieutenant, handing him the picture you drew. “Where’d you find this one?”

Giving his head a shake, Ghost huffs a sigh and pushes into the garage, feet silent as he makes his way over to you.

“Whatt’re you doing here, mouse?” He asks, his voice echoing through the space.

You snap your gaze to his, eyes lighting up the tiniest bit.

Soap walks in after him, hand on his gun.

You shift onto your hip when he’s in front of you, reaching to grab something from your pants but freezing when the other men in the room act.

Gaz and Soap each draw their guns, aiming them at your chest.

"Hands where we can see 'em," Soap warns harshly.

"Easy boys. She's not stupid," Ghost says with a chuckle.

He gives you a nod of encouragement, watching as you move purposefully slowly.

You grab a few items from the waistband of your jeans, sliding the first across the floor to Ghost.

He picks up the small folder, brows drawing together as he briefly wonders how you fit it in there, but those thoughts vanish when he flips it open.

It's full of highly classified documents. Documents that they've been trying to get their hands on for months.

"Where did you get this?" He asks quietly.

You glance at the other two men in the room then back over to him, pressing your lips together once more.

He sighs and glances over his shoulder, holding the folder out to the two men.

"Take this and go get us a tea, yeah?"

They obey without another word, taking the folder and exiting the parkade.

"Where'd you get that folder?" He asks again, crouching down to be at your level and uncuffing your wrists carefully.

"City centre... big..." You frown, searching for the right word, but Ghost knows exactly what you're talking about.

"Warehouse?" He asks.

You nod while rubbing your wrists, happy that he understands.

"If I bring you to a map, can you show me where you were?"

You nod again, pushing onto your knees as he rises to his feet. He helps you up then leads you to the door.

Price, Gaz, and Soap are right outside the door, scanning over the documents within the folder.

"Where are you bringing her?" Price asks, even more intrigued than he was before.

"A map," is all Ghost says.

The three other men fall into a step behind you two, and you try to stay as close to Ghost as you possibly can.

He makes it hard, with his large strides, but you stay all but glued to his side.

He stops suddenly, and you nearly crash into his back, being careful to keep your balance as he turns to a door.

You try to look around him as he unlocks it, but his frame is too broad.

The lock beeps twice then clicks, and then he’s holding the door open for you and motioning for you to head inside.

You do so carefully, eyeing the dark room and shuddering as memories creep into your mind. Memories of a dark cold room with nothing but a leaky pipe.

This isn’t that room. And you’re not alone.

The men enter behind you and then a dim light is flicked on, illuminating what looks to be a board room.

“Here, show me exactly where you found this,” Ghost says, walking over to a map on the wall.

You follow him and inspect it carefully, tracing your finger over a few familiar streets before stopping near the heart of the city.

You tap the spot twice for good measure and look up at him, waiting for his response.

He says nothing, but his eyes are filled with questions.

“How’s a little thing like you get in without setting off alarms?” Soap asks curiously.

You don’t respond, instead you dig in your pants pocket until you find the other souvenir you took.

“For Ghost,” you whisper, holding the USB stick out to him.

He takes it carefully, then tosses it over to Soap.

“Check this. On a secure laptop this time. Don’t need a repeat of-“

“Secure laptop, got it Lt,” the Scot interrupts, turning on his heel and leaving the room.

“Do you know who you stole from?” Ghost asks, capturing your attention once more.

You frown at his word choice.

“I don’t steal. They leave it. It’s mine.”

Price chuckles, “street rats and their squatters rights, hmm?”

You glare at the man with the moustache.

“Not rat,” you murmur, crossing your arms over your chest.

Ghost chuckles and gives you a gentle pat on the head.

“No, rats are vermin. Pests. You’re a harmless little mouse, arentcha?”

You cock your head to the side, looking between him and the other man carefully, trying to understand what he’s saying.

“Once Johnny’s done with that stick we’ll reconvene. In the meantime, bring this one back to her den. Can’t have her roaming around,” Price says, rubbing his forehead.

Ghost gives him a sharp nod.

“Say bye, mouse. Time to go home.” He steps toward the door, holding it open for you.

You follow him, pausing in the doorway and turning to Price and Gaz.

“Bye-bye.” You wave your farewell and the two men exchange glances before each giving you a wave of their own.

Ghost leads you silently through the halls and out of the base, opting to walk rather than drive. S’not far anyway. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to spend as much time with you as possible.

Even though you walk in silence, it feels good to be in his presence. You feel safe.

Finally, as you approach the city, he speaks.

“So you do speak English, cheeky fuck.”

You glance up at him and give your head a small shake.

“Not… not good… not lots.”

He hums, eyes darting around checking for threats.

“S’good.”

You say nothing, only continue walking silently by his side.

He breaks the silence once again, surprising the both of you.

“Why do you help us? Why put yourself at risk for us and our cause?”

You furrow your brows, not understanding the question.

“What does this mean?” You ask.

He chuckles and glances over at you.

“Why help me?”

“Help Ghost.”

“Yes, but why?”

“To help.” You stop walking and grab his hand, giving it a firm squeeze, then put your other hand against his chest.

You stare at your hand, how small it is on the broad expanse of his gear-covered chest, then flutter your gaze up toward his eyes.

“Good man,” you whisper, pressing your fingers harder into his chest.

He swears, through all the layers, he can feel the warmth of your skin.

His upper and lower lashes kiss for a moment before he inhales deeply and chuckles. His gaze softens and he shakes his head, giving your hand a squeeze.

“You must be confused, little one. I’m a lotta things but a good man ain’t one of ‘em.”

You glare up at him and yank on his hand. Though you’re not nearly strong enough to force him to move, he takes a step closer, so close that your bodies are nearly pressed against each other.

“Not confused. Not wrong. Ghost… good man… in here.” You slide your hand up to rest over where you imagine his heart is, your own skipping a beat when he covers your hand with his.

“You’re not wrong? No, never,” he muses, a grin pulling at his lips beneath his mask.

You nod, happy that the two of you are in agreement.

Slowly, you look up at him through your lashes.

The intensity of your gaze has sweat tickling his palms and for a very brief moment he wishes his mask wasn’t in the way.

A soft sigh like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings leaves your parted lips, and then you’re taking a step away from him and toward the dark shadows of the city.

“I go now. Bye-bye, Ghost.”

“This is where I leave you?”

You nod your agreement, taking another step away from him.

“You’ll be safe, mouse, yeah?”

You grin at him and pull out the skull picture you snagged from his pocket, showing it to him proudly.

“With Ghost… always safe.”

A soft smile tugs at his lips and he nods, “always safe with me.”

You give him a small wave then turn around and all but disappear into the darkness, much like you always do.

He stands there for a long while, a thousand thoughts racing through his mind but the one that sticks out like a sore thumb is

Stay.

[gugapuppy]

Abortion - Part 6 (A!Ghost x O!Soap)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6

═══════════════════════════

Just angst and miscommunication, B!Price and A!Laswell too.

═══════════════════════════

Price was smoking a cigar and drinking a glass of whisky with Laswell, they had spent the whole day discussing future missions and mediocre terrorists who were popping up here and there.

Laswell was about to tell him about how his wife blew up the cooker when suddenly his mobile phone rang, vibrating in his pocket, he pulled it out and saw Farah's name on the screen.

He signals Kate to pause and answers the mobile, worried that Ghost might have been badly hurt on the mission.

"Commander Karim-"

"Price." The captain frowned, trying to understand why Ghost was on the other end of the line.

"Ghost? Why are you calling me with-"

"She lent me her mobile phone, I left mine behind." He cuts Price off again, who takes a deep breath, looking at Laswell who was looking worried.

"What's this about Ghost?" The other end of the line is silent for a moment.

There's a pause before Ghost continues. "How... how's Johnny?"

At that moment, Price looks at Laswell and puts him on speakerphone, not that Ghost will realise. "The sergeant's off duty, Gaz's with him. Why did you call me, Lieutenant?"

On the other end of the line you can hear Farah saying something, and then a deep breath before Ghost speaks. "Price, Soap, he's..."

——🧼——

A week has passed since the appointment with Gaz's sister, and the date set for the operation is in two days' time.

Gaz asked if Soap had changed his mind, and he almost thought about cancelling, but he didn't, he needs to put himself first. Even if sometimes he feels suffocated.

They were watching Netflix after eating lasagne. Soap was comfortable and almost asleep on Gaz's shoulder while purring furiously, when a knock on the door made him blink hard.

Gaz got up to open the door while Soap watched from the sofa, and he didn't expect to see a visibly worried Laswell and Price.

"Price, Laswell, what are you two doing here?"

"Where's Mactavish?" Price said, already looking inside and locking gazes with John. "There you are."

Soap got up from the sofa and approached, Gaz waited for Laswell to enter and then closed the door.

A scent of uncertainty began to exude from Soap, causing Laswell to cover her nose momentarily and move closer to Soap in an attempt to calm him down.

"How are you, Soap?" Price asked, giving Gaz a quizzical look.

‘’Fine, fine... Why are you here Price?"

Price swallowed dryly before saying. "I got a call from Ghost, and he talked about-"

"I can explain!" Soap cut him off quickly, knowing why they were there now. "I didn't cheat on him! I swear it! Captain, Laswell you have to believe me, please!" He begged hard, Gaz walking over to stand next to him.

He knew that Price would defend Ghost to the end, he was afraid that in Price's eyes he had become an adulterer, even though he had never done anything.

The fact that Ghost called him and not Soap also hurt, knowing that Simon really didn't want to talk to him.

"Soap, we know, calm down." Laswell put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Ghost called us just two hours ago, and he explained a few things."

"He said about your... pregnancy." Price says calmly, pointing to Soap's belly. "I should have pressed you about what was going on with you two, I'm sorry Soap."

"It's not your fault Captain, Simon made his choices, I tried, I swear I tried to talk to him." Soap's hands, which had been at his sides, now covered his stomach. "What... else did he say?"

Price and Laswell exchanged glances before continuing, as if they were in front of a bomb. Well, maybe they were.

"He wants to apologise to you when he gets back, he said he can't wait for the pup to arrive and raise him-"

A whimper and an angry grunt escaped Soap's mouth at the same time when he heard Price's sentence.

Now Simon has decided he wants to be part of the pregnancy?! Not at all. He's decided he wants to raise a ‘traitor's’ baby now?! Whatever Simon thought, it won't change anything now, it can't change.

Does Soap still miss Simon? Yes, maybe that's why his heart tightens and his eyes water at the thought, but if he stops now, what's the chance that it won't happen again?! He needs to keep himself first.

Soap will repeat this phrase like a mantra until the end, he can't lose himself.

If Simon wants to be involved in a pregnancy and have a baby, it certainly won't be with Soap. Apologies at this point are nothing but meaningless words, no, there's no going back.

Gaz shouting makes Soap refocus on the conversation.

"Do you really think he can come back as if nothing had happened?!" Gaz stands in front of Soap.

"Gaz, you don't know what Ghost-"

"What he's been through? What happened to him? Why he abandoned his partner when he needed him?" Each sentence is spoken with a finger sword to Price's chest.

"Sergeant, lower your tone."

"Or what? You'd rather carry on defending Ghost while it was Soap who was thrown to the wolves! Are you even listening, Captain?!"

"Stop!" Laswell roars, making them both shut up. Soap can smell the bitter odour of stress coming from Laswell, and the alpha tries to remain composed in front of everyone. "Enough arguing between you two, that's not why we came here Jonathan."

She turns to Soap, more composed. "I apologise Soap, this is not how our conversation was supposed to go." Soap snorts a little indignantly. "We came here to tell you that you're off work until you decide what you're going to do about your pregnancy, Kyle will also be off work for a while to help you with whatever you need."

Out of the corner of her eye, Soap sees Gaz's shoulders relax, even though he's still staring at Price. "And Ghost won't be allowed to come to you without your consent."

She puts a hand on Soap's shoulder. "Whatever you need, I'm here to help."

Soap nods a few times. "Thanks Kate."

She looks at Price, eyes alight with seriousness. "Let's go." Gaz escorts them to the door, bidding them goodnight.

When he returns Soap is already sitting on the sofa, hands covering his eyes, trying to rethink everything that happened in that conversation, why Simon has now decided after weeks to try and contact him.

He still has the nerve not to call him directly.

Little whimpers escape him, Gaz puts an arm around his head and hugs him, ruffling Soap's hair, making him purr after a few minutes.

"I'll always support you mate, whatever you decide." Gaz whispers in Soap's ear.

═══════════════════════════

Sad, really sad.

But anyway, Soap is starting to freak out, and Price and Laswell haven't told us about Ghost's exams, it's just a fucking mess!

[randooffthestreet]

Roach didn't know much about his captain other than his last name and callsign. He didn't take too kindly to questions, and most were too intimidated to even try asking. He couldn’t help but be curious, though, when he saw a picture sitting on his captain’s desk. The others had already left after the debrief, going to the tarmac to get ready, but he lingered, staring at the unfamiliar face among his COs.

His captain noticed him still standing there and looked up from the paperwork in his hand. “Something the matter, Sanderson?” Roach furrowed his brow. “Who is that?” He signed, watching his captain turn his head to try and see what he was looking at.

When he saw the picture that he usually hid before debriefings, he sighed heavily, picking it up and staring at it…almost longingly. “You already know Gaz and Price, yeah?” He nodded. Captain Price had retired a few years back, entering a cushy and well deserved civilian life, and Captain Garrick was the one who had recommended him to join TF 141.

The silence dragged on for a bit, Roach shifting uncomfortably as he waited for a response. The captain set the photo back down. “You would’ve liked him. Everyone did, even if he didn’t know it himself most of the time.”

His breathing stuttered over another sigh, and Roach was almost alarmed by how much emotion his usually stoic captain was showing. “You were friends?” He asked.

Captain Riley hesitated, chewing his lip. “You could say that.” He said roughly. “His name is- was Soap MacTavish. My sergeant. Johnny.” He stared at the picture for a bit longer. “Roach- you’re a smart kid. You’re skilled, one of the best soldiers the SAS has, you know that?”

Roach found himself becoming a bit shy at that. “Not better than any other soldier.” Riley shook his head. “You are. Don’t doubt your abilities, kid. He was too. Better than me, even if he didn’t believe it.”

Ghost crossed his arms, leaning forward in his chair.

“Listen, Gary.. live without regrets. That’s all I can tell you. The thing I regret the most was not telling him everything I wanted to. Don’t do that to yourself. Rejection hurts a hell of a lot less than not knowing if something- if-”

He cut himself off, rubbing his temples. “Fuckin hell. You didn't ask to listen to me ramble. The people you trust can hurt you the most. By betraying you…or by leaving you. But love- friendships- those are worth being hurt for.” Roach just stared at him, trying to take in all this new information.

“It’s alright, sir. I understand.” He hesitated before continuing. “Johnny sounds like a good man. Especially if you liked him.” Captain Riley laughed softly. “He was more suited to be captain than I am. Would’ve kicked your ass for calling him Johnny, though. Go get ready for the mission, kid.” He saluted and left the office.

Ghost picked up the picture again when Roach left the office, tracing his face through the glass of the frame. “You would’ve liked him, Johnny. He's a good kid. Miss you.”

He kissed his fingers and pressed it to the glass before tucking it back in a drawer of his desk. He didn’t need someone else asking questions.

[thisfanisgonesorry]

obsessed — john price ft. 141

kinktober day 1: public sex (w/ ale, rudy, gaz, soap + ghost)

posting this prematurely because someone brought me cod vault and i need to suck them off

tags: public sex (exhibition, shocker), orgasm denial, light panty stuff, creampie, claiming, all that good good, light homoeroticism, gaz is a funny guy idc, accidental soap bashing rofl

☆

“This is what happens when you eye up my girl.” He started, speaking sternly, his hand wrapped possessively around my waist as I wore the most revealing outfit I owned at his command; he grabbed one hand and spun me around with a soft grin on his face, dancing me around as a ‘humble’ brag.

The soldiers surrounding him seemed uneasy by the unknown. They were afraid of their ‘punishment’, most of them quickly averted their eyes from the outfit that left not a lot to the imagination.

I took my seat on the coffee table in his quarters. The lads were conned into coming over for something considerably less crude, something or other to do with catching up and drinks, implied by the glasses of whiskey with melting ice and the calmness increasingly leaving the atmosphere. The Captain took a slow stroke of my hair, his hand cupping my cheek and angling my face to look up at him. The men sat there uncomfortably, knowing that they’d be unable to leave until they were officially dismissed.

“She’s just so gorgeous, ain’t she?” He hummed.

The room was filled with a dreaded silence, and they all hesitated to respond, exchanging glances in an attempt to figure out what the correct answer was.

“I asked something.” He snapped. “Come on, haven’t got all fuckin’ day.”

“Yes.” Simon responded with a nod, gesturing to the others with command on what he felt was the right way to go about this tricky situation. “She is gorgeous.”

“Yeah, what he said.” They began to agree in unison, hoping that the Ghost would guide them out of this since it was like walking through a minefield, though some would agree that a minefield would be less stressful.

Price furrowed his eyebrows, circling around the coffee table like a hawk, attempting to intimidate the men. “How gorgeous?” He spoke to the Sergeants, avoiding Simon’s gaze as he attempted to weasel the group out of Price’s game. He knew that Simon was figuring it out quickly, almost too quickly.

Simon and Mactavish, who seemingly shared a glance, attempting to connect dots. Soap silently spoke to his Lieutenant, airing his suspicions, and Simon responded with a ‘down, boy’ as they both realised what was actually happening, Soap deduced it quickly, and the other was afraid to be incorrect in his assumptions, not airing it aloud until it was certain, though their mutual conclusion made them both more confident in their chances of being correct.

Alejandro and Rodolfo shared a knowing glance also, lowering their voices and dipping their heads as they had their own private discussion. “¿Estás bromeando? ¿Qué decimos?”, “No lo sé, hace cosas raras.” They quickly spoke as the others shrunk under Price’s gaze, his back to them as he paid little attention to their conversation. “Tal vez deberíamos habernos quedado en México.” They mutually agreed.

“Most gorgeous I’ve ever seen.” Soap spoke up, using his Lieutenants guidance. Mactavish knew that if his Lieutenant thought it was the right thing to do, especially when it comes to Price, it most likely was.

“Maybe too gorgeous..” Kyle snickered to himself with implication, trying to relieve the tension in the air. Everyone was afraid of whatever the Captain was planning — and Kyle was the only one willing to test him despite his respect for him. He was, for the most part, in the know but he hadn’t put it together the same way that Riley and Mactavish did.

Captain Price and Kyle shared a knowing look, and John knew that he’d been figured out by enough of them that he could push forward.

“Baby..” He cooed, turning me to face him again, grabbing my face harshly and making me look at Kyle, his other hand drifted down to the bottom of the skimpy shirt, lifting it up slowly, letting it bunch up above my chest. “Show them your pretty tits.” 

His hands palmed at the lace bra, a smug look plastered on his face as the other men were unsure how to respond. Their faces flushed with nervousness, unsure if they should be watching or not, though as the scene progressed, they were more comfortable in their shamelessness. 

“Lo retiro. Me gusta aquí en Estados Unidos.” 

“Hold up your skirt for me.” John spoke again, I followed his instructions and he spread my legs. He turned his head to face the other men. “Any of you lads wanna see how wet her cunt is?”

Kyle tries to stand up from his seat, his intentions not entirely clear, though Rudy and Alejandro grab him and pull him back down quickly, not patient enough to deal with his practical jokes and firmly held him in place. Price knew Simon wouldn’t volunteer on his own, so he raised his eyebrow at Mactavish. He squinted back, and John gave a slight smirk. He manhandled me, swerving my body around so my spread legs faced the iconic duo, though the small couch meant they all got the perfect view

Their eyes were glued at the wet patch forming on the white panties.

“Mierda.” Alejandro choked out. “Joder, Rudy—”

“Justo contigo.”

Simon was entranced, but was the only one able to drag his eyes away from the view, even if only momentarily. “Captain..” He started. “Could I ask.. What’s the damn point of this?”

“The point?” He questioned, positioning himself on the table behind me, letting the boys get an amicable view of the woman he was graciously claiming in front of their eyes. His hands continued to palm at my bra, he was greedy with want, ‘subtly’ displaying his intent.

“What’re you trying to get at?”

He smirked, one of his hands falling down and rubbing at the wetness. “Like you can’t figure that out?” He shrugged, slipping his fingers under the waistband and sliding in with ease. “You must think I’m stupid, I know how you all act, you want ‘er for yourselves.”

His words were met with awkward silence which worked as an admission of guilt. He had a smug grin, knowing he’d caught them red handed, and they processed what this truly meant. My face flushed red, turning my head to the side and biting my lip as the eyes on my body doubled in size, even Simon was getting some form of enjoyment out of it. It was arousing, yet I couldn’t help but attempt to restrain myself.

“Why so shy, baby girl?”

“Mhm, they’re watching.” I mumbled back, trying to avoid eye contact with any of the men despite the temptation.

“That’s the point.” He whispered, leaning in to press a kiss into my neck, letting his beard scratch at my nape. He began moving his hands more graciously, speaking sweetly and planning deviously. “C’mon, moan for me, princess. Put on a show.”

“Ah, fuck, John—” I moaned out.

“That’s cruel.” Mactavish commented with a grim expression.

“Keep goin’, princess.” He laughed softly, making me squirm under his fingers. “Want me to take your panties off? Show ‘em how your cunt clenches around my fingers?”

“Por favor.” Alejandro and Rodolfo pleaded in mutual agreeance once again. “Por favor buena coño. muéstranos?”

“You’re sick, Price.” Simon spoke, though his eyes didn’t leave the conjoinance. John, the other one, simply frowned, knowing he had to hear the sweet sounds of his name being moaned, and yet it’s not even for him. Both duos simply held their breaths, trying to keep their cool, the other man was unreadable, letting the lust behind his eyes be the only emotion he displayed, he respected Price, but there’s only so much strength a man could hold.

“You’re sick.” John spoke firmly. “Thinkin’ about my girl like this, just givin’ you what you want.” He spat. “Watching you’s get hard in y’fuckin’ pants at the sight.”

“Like it’s our fault?” Mactavish spat back.

“John—”

“Like that!” He growled. “You think I’m not meant to find that fuckin’ sexy?”

“Oi, settle.” Simon interrupted with a demanding bark.

Price furrowed his eyebrows, retracting his fingers and smearing the slickness onto my thigh, letting it glimmer under the dim light. He lifted my hips enough for him to slide the panties off, tossing them at the jealous Sergeant.

“He’s right, you know?” Kyle spoke up, knowing better than to get aggressive when he’s being treated to such a view, but he had to agree with him. His eyes flicked into the panties that Soap held in his hand.

He let out a smug huff of amusement, lifting my hips enough so I was kneeled on the table. The group of men heard the sound of a zipper, and a collective group of inward, jealous groans became audible very quickly.

“Dios mio—”

“Fuckin’ hell, Price.”

They kept their mouths shut beyond that, watching as he tugged at his pants. He stroked his cock liberally, pressing a kiss into the neck. “They act like this is cruel, yet they’re still watchin’, baby, they wanna see how I fuck you.” He hummed.

“You’re— Shit, John, I—”

“That’s my girl.” He cursed, lining himself up as he pushed himself into the slickness, grinning at the way the men’s eyes watched on in awe, inward groans at the way I swallowed him whole.

Their pants were tented, and through fuzzy thoughts and half-lidded eyes, it was clear to tell that they were fighting the urge to get themselves off, but they knew Price wouldn’t let them live another day if they did.

“John. Move, please, need—”

He hummed, grabbing onto my hips and moving me against him. “Of course, princess.” He leant his head on my shoulder, his eyes darting around the other men. “You like my cock?”

“Mhm, yeah.”

“Let them know who this pussy belongs to, princess.”

“Yours.” I praised, whining and closing my eyes. “Right there.”

“Louder.”

“John, yours”

“Louder.” He spoke sternly, his hand dipping to rub sweet circles. “Come on, say it louder.”

“It’s yours, John!” I cried out, 

“I’m fuckin’ keeping these.” Mactavish mumbled with a sour tone, glancing over at Simon and the other men as he stuffed the panties into his pocket. He leaned back, trying to get comfortable as the view tormented his eyes. 

“A few minutes ago you were all for it, what changed, Johnny?”

“You know what, you fuckin’ bastard.” He spoke coldly. “Ale is fuckin’ droolin’, Rudy’s eyes are the size of his fuckin’ head and Gaz is.. Gaz, yet you’re tormenting me?”

“I don’t see you actin’ as well trained as Simon.” He joked. “How is it, princess? Feel you clenchin’, you like them watchin’? Bickering over you?”

“Mhm, yeah, it’s— Yeah!” I nodded enthusiastically as he continued the actions on my clit. He pressed a soft kiss behind my ear, pulling my bra down enough for my breasts to pop out from the fabric. “Ah, fuck, John—”

“Baby, don’t you think he deserves a break from your teasing?”

“Sorry, ‘m sorry, John, ‘m just so close.” I whined.

“Already?” He hummed. “You just like putting on a show? They’re desperate for you.”

“Yes, yes, fuck, yeah, love putting on a show.”

“God, look how wet she is.” Rudy finally spoke up after his long silence. “Fuckin’ creaming on his dick.”

His grip on my hips pushed forward, making me bend over slightly as he kept thrusting into me, hitting the right spot, relishing in the squelching noise that filled the room as the stickiness covered the thighs of his cargo pants. “God, close.”

“I know.” He purred, his hand glued to my clit. “Simon, you’ve been quiet.”

He gritted his teeth. “I know just as well as you, this is a punishment.” He hissed. “I’m not dumb enough to indulge in how bad I want her. You’re claiming her.”

“Smart lad.”

“And she’s liking it.” One of the men pointed out, they were all painfully jealous (and painfully erect at the sight), but they knew this is what happens when Price owns something; this is what they get for wanting to touch his girl in a way that only he should be able to.

I whined, clutching onto his arms. “John— I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna?” He slowed his movements, keeping it methodical enough, careful to not let me spill over the edge. 

“Gonna cum, gonna—”

“Ask nicely, baby, too busy being all cockdrunk for me that you forgot how this works.”

“Please, baby, let me cum, I wanna cum so bad.” I choked out a cry as I tried to push back on him, needing the extra friction.

“Don’t ask me.” He cooed. “Ask them.”

I sobbed around his cock. “Please, please, let me cum.” I struggled to keep my eyes open enough to look at them.

“They have names.”

“Mhm!” I choked out. “Who?”

“Go down the line.” He breathed, beginning to chase his own orgasm more selfishly, it still wasn’t enough pressure for me to unravel, but his harsh thrusts didn’t help the fuzzy, cloudy feeling. 

“Ale— Fuck, please, please.” I threw my head back. “Alejandro, please.”

He let out a low groan with a weak nod. “I need to watch you. I.. Cum, gorgeous, you can cum.” He swallowed thickly, cutting himself shortly from becoming a rambling mess, taking Rileys words into consideration as he spoke.

“Rudy?” I cried out, my mind all fuzzy. 

Rodolfo glanced at Price, his mind lingering on what the Ghost said, just like Alejandro and just like the others. “You can, Princesa.” He spoke, attempting to stay calm enough where he didn’t rile himself up while using their Captains pet name for me in a condescending way, trying to reclaim what little power he could.

“You gotta use your words.” Price spoke up. “You can do that, can’t you?”

“Fuck, Gaz—”

“It’s Kyle.” He interrupted with a shit-eating grin.

“Please, Kyle, I.. mhm, say..”

“Can barely get your words out, doll.”

“Please!” I snapped, jerking upwards, pushing myself back on Price harshly, seeing white and feeling a sob rise from my throat at the desperation. “Say it, please!”

“Say that you can cum? That I allow you to?” I nodded frantically, and he bit his lip. “God, he really is claiming her. Such a good fucking girl, go on, doll, I’ll let you cum, you got my vote.” He teased relentlessly.

“Thank you! Thank you! Need.. Johnny—”

“Not him.” Price interrupted. John huffed in annoyance, crossing his arms but biting his tongue, restraining the urge to snap at his Captain.

“Mhm.. Simon?”

“You’re up to Simon, yes.” He mocked lightly as a gentle reminder to use my words.

“Simon? Please? You’re all I need, please.”

He glared up at Price. “How bad do you want it?”

“So fuckin’ bad, Simon, please, I can’t...”

He sighed. “Yeah, you can cum.” He spoke, careful to not overstep with the Captain like the others were.

“You heard them, baby.” John cooed again. “Make a sweet mess for me. You’re trembling, princess, you’re right there for me.”

“Just a bit more, please, more!” I begged, letting it wash over me when he added slightly more pressure to my clit, working me right back up to the edge. “Oh, shit, John, ah—” I sobbed, throwing my head back onto his shoulder. 

He mouthed at my shoulder, leaving lazy kisses. “Oh, fuck.” He choked. “Milkin’ m’cock, so sweet.” His eyes were half-lidded as he felt his orgasm impend closer, though he made a point to bask in the look on their faces.

I tensed up, spasming around him. “So good, so good.” I nodded helplessly, eyes clenched shut, momentarily forgetting that people were watching us. “John, baby—”

After the comedown, I slumped forward, going limp in his arms. His quick reaction time was beyond useful as he reached forward to grab me, supporting my weight in his strong arms. “God, ‘m gonna cum, princess. Want it inside?” He spoke smugly, eyeing up the others.

“Yes, yes!” I panted

“Even in front of the lads?”

“Yes, want it inside. Please, John!”

He thrusted harshly a few last times. “I’m right there, baby.” He praised, briefly ignoring the other men so he could feel the warmth around him, to let his orgasm wash over him without the worry of the prying eyes that were trying to memorise and suck in every detail of what was happening in front of them. “Keep sayin’ my name.”

“John, please, need it, c’mon, John, ’m your good girl, need you—”

His breathing picked up pace. “That’s it, that’s it. Take it, princess, that’s it.” He groaned, thrusting a few more times before his pace faltered, spilling his cum inside of me with breathy moans. “That’s my girl, my girl.”

His smug grin returned to his face as he caught his breath, he pressed another kiss on my neck, pulling out and tucking his dick away as he held me in place firmly against him, his embrace was evidently possessive.

“Johnny..” I sighed, leaning into him and closing my thighs tightly, clenching myself in an attempt to keep him inside me.

“Mhm, I got you.” He hummed, fixing my bra and pulling my shirt down to cover my chest again.

“You’re a dick, Cap.” Mactavish finally commented, furrowing his eyebrows. “Gaz was wankin’ to you’s.” He snitched, crossing his arms, frustrated.

“No I wasn’t, fuckin’ snitch.” Kyle snapped back, pulling his hand away from his pants, granted, he wasn’t ‘wanking’, but he was palming himself so points for being close enough, he sat back annoyed and crossed his arms.

Simon stood up. “We’re done here.” He spoke. “They’re done, we’re leaving.” He spoke, announcing to the other soldiers that were overstaying their welcome. “Talking to you, Sergeants.” 

“You’re dismissed.” John approved, picking me up and getting ready to take care of his girl.

They all stood up quickly, preparing to escort themselves out as fast as they could, though having to walk slowly in the small quarters. They attempted to avoid eye contact, letting the previous situation linger in the air.

Simon took the lead, getting off the wide couch first. “Let’s go.” He called out, with Mactavish already following behind obediently. “No fighting or else.” He warned.

Alejandro and Rudolfo stood up and shared another glance with another conversation they kept to themselves as they left just as fast eagerly. “Eso fue...algo más...”, “¡lo sé!”,

“¿Crees que volverá a suceder?”

“Si tenemos suerte..” He spoke with a nervous laugh.

[multific]

When He Comes Home Late for Date Night - Modern Warfare Men Preferences

Modern Warfare Men x Fem!Reader

John Price

John looked at his watch before letting out a sigh.

He was late. Terribly late, and yet he was still determined.

He arrived at his home, opening and closing the door before walking straight into the living room.

There, he found you sitting on the couch eating some snacks as you watched a movie.

"John! Welcome home!" you said before turning back to the movie on TV.

John stood there, stunned.

Tonight was supposed to be date night, and he was late, he was expecting to find you fuming, but you looked calm.

Unless this was a new technique.

"Hi, Darling."

"How was work?" you asked, not looking at him.

"The usual."

"I put your food in the fridge." John walked to the kitchen opening the fridge slowly, as if expecting it to explode, but nothing happened.

He pulled out the plate and re-heat the food. Smelling it.

Could it be poisoned? No, you wouldn't go that far... or would you? 

But John found the food to be delicious. He sat at the table when you joined him, opening a beer for him as you drank some water.

"Did something happen?" you asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You are usually late when something happened...another bad guy?" John let out a sigh.

"Guess you can say that. I kind of expected for you to..."

"Flip out?" you laughed as he nodded. "Well, no point in doing that, I know you couldn't do anything about it, if you are busy, it is what it is unfortunately. We will have a date when the time is right."

"You are an angel." he smiled as he finished his plate.

Even when you met, John knew he won the lottery with you. 

Simon Riley

Simon opened the door fearfully, he feared no man, but the anger of his wife was greater than any terrorist he could ever face.

After about five more minutes he opened the door only to find the house completely silent.

Your dog rushed to him, excited to see his other owner home but other than that, nothing.

"Where's your mother?" Simon asked the German Shepperd who excitedly ran off into the house. Simon headed to the kitchen for a drink and found a note on the fridge.

'Simon,

I had a feeling you would be late, I bet you were scared shitless that I would be angry. These things happen, please don't worry. 

I made you food, it's in the fridge if you want it.

I'm off to sleep now, because I am a grandma and I need my beauty sleep.

Love ya,

Your Wifey'

Simon smiled at the note before heading into the bedroom, he found you there on the bed, sleeping soundly.

He placed a kiss to your temple before he headed for a quick shower.

Johnny MacTavish

Johnny knew this wasn't good. He was supposed to be home, hours ago! He jumped out of his car and rushed into the house.

He could hear music playing somewhere in the house.

"Bonnie?"

"Bath." came a simple reply.

Johnny almost doubled over when he arrived in the bathroom. Scented candles were lit, the tub filled with water which he can only assume you put at least two bathbombs, your hair was pulled back in a bun, in one hand a glass of wine in the other your favourite book.

"Good to see you Johnny." you said sipping your wine. "I decided since you were late to turn date-night into me-night." you said before you turned back to your book.

"Bonnie, it's almost 1am."

"And? I don't have work tomorrow or should I say, today?"

"Are you not... angry?"

"Why would I be? I know your line of work, when you were an hour late, I ordered some pizza and done some skin care. It's not your fault that Captain Price likes to talk about every little detail months before a mission. Be a darling and pour me some more wine please?" 

Johnny was truly stunned. He grabbed the bottle, noting how it was half empty before he poured you some. 

"Did you say pizza? Do we have some left?"

"On the counter. Be quick because I'm almost done here, I believe you have some apologizing to do."

"Apologize? You said you are not angry."

"I'm not, but I thought it would be the perfect ending for my perfect night."

"Alright, Bonnie." he quickly kissed your cheek before he disappeared down the hallway. 

Kyle Garrick

Kyle was sure he was a dead man.

No way he is going to survive this. He was ready to lose everything.

The last time he arrived home late, he barely made it out alive with you being pregnant at the time, your hormones were crazy.

So, again, he prepared for the worst.

With your daughter seven months old, she slept through the nights. You and Kyle decided to have a quiet night and once she was asleep, you would have a nice date in the kitchen.

But of course, his job had other ideas.

Kyle entered his home quietly but it was anything but quiet inside.

He could hear the cries coming from upstairs.

He rushed up the stairs and soon found you in the hallway, pacing, trying to calm your little one.

"She just has been crying for hours now, I don't know what to do." you said as Kyle got her from your hands and placed her on his chest, slowly bouncing her.

She almost immediately calmed down and fell asleep.

"Thank you. She must have been missing you." you said as you let out a sigh, blessed silence. 

"You said she cried for hours?"

"I assume hours, I am partially deaf to my left ear now." you giggled as Kyle smiled.

"Sorry, I'm late."

"Oh, I didn't even notice the time!" you looked at the clock on the wall. "I didn't even cook, all we have are leftovers."

"Leftovers will be perfect, let me put the little Princess down." Kyle gave you a quick kiss before he went to the nursery and put his daughter to sleep. With one last kiss to her forehead, Kyle turned her night lamp on before leaving the room. 

Alejandro Vargas

Alejandro hated to be late.

He was always a very punctual person.

But these things can unfortunately happen.

But he still hated it.

He wanted to go home early and spend the night with you since his mother had your children for the weekend.

Alejandro just didn't expect to get called in on a Saturday.

He was rather angry with himself but when he found you on the couch, surrounded by pizza boxes and soft drinks, his anger turned to confusion.

"Mi Amor?"

"Welcome home! I was a bit... hungry."

"I can see. Five pizza?"

"I also have ice cream and...brownies."

"The last time you ate this much was when you were pregnant." Alejandro giggled but you stayed too quiet so he also froze in his place. "Are-Are you?"

"Surprise?"

"DIOS MIO!"

"I wanted to tell you during dinner but then you were late and I got hungry! Sorry. I had it all planned too!"

"My Goddess! Three?! Are we about to have three children? I am going to be a dad again?!"

Alejandro watched you pull out an envelope and you handed it to him.

He opened and it is a paper he had seen in his life before, twice.

"You are pregnant... six weeks." he looked up at you.

"Yes. And I craved pizza, I saw they had one with fish then I saw the pepperoni and the corn and by the time I knew I had ordered five... I ordered so much they gave me free drinks and ice cream. Are you happy?"

"About the baby or the pizza?"

"...both?" He rushed to give you a hug.

"I am thrilled! I thought you would skin me for being late and here you are, My Angel, perfect, with pizza and pregnant! I couldn't ask for more." you smiled at him as he pulled you in for a kiss.

Soon, you both sat down as you ate all five of the pizza and watched movies.

Maybe being late wasn't such a bad thing.

König

König was ready for the worst.

He didn’t meant for his training to go on for so long. He lost track of time once he was practicing his shooting.

With a rose bouquet in his hand he entered the house, scared of what he might find inside.

He was prepared for you being angry, he was prepared for you punching him.

What he wasn’t prepared for is you sleeping soundly with your cat cuddled up to your side. 

He took a step forward only to check on you and the floor made a noise under his weight.

It woke you up a little.

“Liebling, it’s only me.”

“Ah, okay, baby. Long day?” you asked, not even opening your eyes.

“Yes.”

“Alright, shower and cuddle.” you said before you turned back, ready to sleep once more.

König did exactly as you said, he showered and soon joined you. 

“Are you not angry with me?” he asked as you moved to sleep on his chest.

“No. I kinda forgot that today was supposed to be date night. I went shopping and came home late.”

He only nodded. At least you weren’t waiting for him.

Taglist: @fleursirvart​ @greenarrowhead​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa​ @spilledinkindumpster​ @capsiclesdoll​ @puknow​ @alwayshave-faith​ @alex12948​ @lxdyred​  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​ @praline357​ @trshngyn​ @avengers-r-us​ @violet-19999​ @top1bbgloak​   @manduse​   @jacalineiscomingforyou​  @mandoloriancookie​ @noname2246​

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[thenewvenusgirl]

I’ve never posted on tumblr before so I’m thoroughly weirded out but I have #thoughtsthoughtsthoughts that need to be thrown in the washing machine then dried like WOW I can make the text pink? that’s cute..

I don’t know how to do content warnings. I don’t know if I should. let me get used to tumblr etiquette

cw/ nsfw mentioned, mild violence.

the setting, the setting.

my phone is awfully slow today.

we are in stirling lines, creden hill, hereford. this is the special air services regiment where the buildings are short, rectangular, brick and eggshell. this is where a hookers green and a tantalising guacamole colour meet in some undesignated lines, or atleast that’s just how it looks from the google birds eye view. what are these random blue lines that I’m seeing everywhere.

I don’t like describing unnecessary things. it’s boring. so Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick is being a domestic housewife in the barracks. he washes glasses which have cloudy residue on them, and digs in them deep with the cotton towels, before putting them where they belong. he scratches at his beard. he hasn’t shaved in a while. he catches himself in the reflection of the shite microwave. his eyebags carry a lot of weight. plenty of it. but he thinks that every measure of tiredness on his features shows his dedication to his job captain. it’s just that one day where he saw one terrorist attack and could no longer stay restrained. he’s paying the price. and he’s got so much anger behind that calm, steady, exterior. just another glass to wash and then break.

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish is on his grey, white and cornflower blue bedsheets, one leg hooked over the other as he desperately scribbles in his little black notebook, sketching the scenes of his past hookups to commit them to proper memory. he loves to get off to the memory of that particularly soft bum, those big plush thighs or that delicious smelling dark skin. but he’s horrible at keeping the unnecessary in his brain because of his job life. so every time, in his dreams, when he remembers the small details from that delicious experience on May 23rd, 2023 at 10:47pm, he’s up the next morning drawing it. Beautiful material, extra gorgeous because of how it sits on his underwear draw. he’s fantasised about selling his perfectly articulated masterpieces to the more…. less fortunate men, who he can honestly say have never wrapped their hand around a dick other than their own, or been in a pussy other than their mothers.

price doesn’t really get a break. his dick is like his arm or his leg, it’s just there and he doesn’t care. he’s extremely invested in self care though, and his physique. loves a good shave, loves a good face mask. he cringes when he sees all the black pores coming out of his skin which look like they haven’t seen sunlight in years. he can’t stand the feeling of his dirty hair and smelly scalp, spending ages in hot showers after missions and breathing heavily while staying in there as long as he can. the only weakness is that if he’s in that steamy chamber long enough it reminds him of all those years ago and passing the sas selection. In some steamy rainforest in brunei where he became immune to the own smell of his own body odour. the way the air felt thick and hot around him, making every breath feel like he was being pushed into a dark foam pit with each passing moment through the lush forest greens. he gets out the shower, and dries himself off.

simon, who has back pain. it pisses him off. he should be able to sustain being bent over for hours without any problems, because what if his team needs him to survive and he needs to crawl and contort to go through a dark place to do so? it’s just he’s got this fetish for manspreading and leaning his elbows against his knees, hands clasped tight together. he broods, he thinks. sometimes it’s about the most mundane things, like eggs and steak. or his highschool english teacher who was always there for him. sometimes it’s about being in greece and tanning under the mediterranean sun, with his pal, Johnny. who’s right here, isn’t he? but don’t be silly, ghost. you’ve seen ‘friends’ come and go for years. the person you signed up with? dead. every few years someone new comes along who brings out the best in him, and ultimately meets a violent end. so now that johnny is here, he’s pushing him away. ‘Stay tactical, Sergeant.’ ‘Don’t push it, Johnny.’ but he’s already crossed that invisible boundary when he gave him a nickname. just don’t expect the best.

[the-real-aku]

Note: Posting because i kinda like it atm and while I'm not happy with it I'm trying-

~~~

"We deserve a good story before we get too fuckin' pissed to walk straight," Johnny whined.

"Couldn't walk straight even if we held your 'and while sober, MacTavish. I got one, but mnot gonna repeat it after this. Got it?" Ghost stared at Gaz and Soap who gave him a mock salute before leaning on closer to their lieutenant.

"Couple years into the start of 141, was just me n' Price, you and Gaz hadn’t even been born yet-  We got sent to some base in Colorado...Colorado or somewhere around there.  It doesn't matter.  We were doing some glorified hide and seek for a training exercise. Easy enough, good at hidin'." Ghost paused, taking another sip of his glass of whiskey. 

"People forget to look up.  Holed myself up in some sturdy tree, held my weight, and kept me out of sight.  Probably too well.  Had groups of hunting parties pass me looking for others.

"Still,  no one ever looked up.  Got a few good hours of peace and fucking quiet up there.  Even had a book with me.  Dime novel or some shit I picked outta the trash.  It was nice for a shit training exercise.  Until the sun started setting, that's when more of the nocturnal beasts came out.

 "So color me surprised when a half-decent buck bursts out of the bush and slams head-first into my tree. Horns don't stick, doesn't care, it backs up and does the same thing. Over and over. I've seen heads splatter, I've done the splattering. I don't understand what it was trying to do because it kept going until brain matter splattered against the tree and an eyeball popped under the pressure.

"Then it stopped.  Not stopped 'cause it died, not just stopped and stood there before sniffing the ground. I had been holding my breath the whole time. Don't know why, everything told me this was wrong and that I needed to shut up and stay still.  But eventually, it stopped sniffin' and twisted its damn fucking broken neck to look up.  It was quiet but clear, not like anything else was moving anymore not even the wind, and whispered "I know you're there", then ran off.  

“I stayed in that tree the whole night. Pissed myself too.  Didn't care. I wasn't coming down or moving unless someone or thing dragged me down.  They found me there in the morning.  Thought I froze to death.

"They had to get Price to get me to come down from my spot.  Wouldn't say a word to them, which didn't help my situation.  They thought I was 'avin an 'episode', went crazy during the training event, and killed something or maybe even someone from the mess they found around my tree. Who was going to believe that I watched the deer do it to itself?  So I kept quiet as Price and the others escorted me back to base.  Never found it.  But no one ever said anything about it seeing as how I was clean of blood."  

Gaz and Soap turned to their Captain, eyes weary and expectant.  Price huffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, I remember. We had searched for this twat almost all night before some private found'em. He thought it was weird, the tree, and looked up to investigate and came face to face with Ghost's blank stare under his hard plate skull mask. We had two sets of pissed pants after that. When Ghost wouldn't talk about why his hiding place was a fucking mess of bone and meat he had mandatory psych evals for the next month."

[sofasoap]

Reason for life

Pairing: Simon “Ghost ” Riley x F!Reader ( OC aka Mini MacTavish )

Summary: Simon Riley finally made up his mind.

Right after the event of “Death, Comes easily” 

Warning: Mature theme. discussion of unhappy childhood, OC children, discussion of abuse, near death. Angst. slight deviation from canon as well.

A/N : I finally got to Simon. and this rounds up the task force 141 proposal series. *sigh*

 “masterlist”

“Captain.” 

Head down, buried in paperwork, Price only let out a grunt, acknowledging Ghost’s presence. 

“John.” 

Price’s hand stalled. Slowly putting his pen down, finally looking up. 

Ghost standing in front the desk, hands behind his back, shoulder slightly hunched. Price noticed the redness in his fatigue looking eyes. Redder than usual. He noted. 

“Can I talk to you,” Ghost requested, voice soft, as he eyes the soldiers lingering around in the office,  “In private please.” 

Price stared at him for few seconds, before commanding the soldiers. “Alright, everyone out please. Lieutenant and I have important business to discuss.” Price stood up, ushering everyone out. 

Making sure the door is locked, Price turned back towards the desk, gesturing to Ghost to sit. Pushing the paperwork and files aside, Price took out a bottle of whisky and two tumbler glasses from the cabinet behind him. 

Pouring into each of the glasses, he pushed one towards Ghost. Ghost just stares at the drink, motionless for a while before he pulls his balaclava off, exhaustion evident on his pale looking face. 

“Do you still have the box?” Simon broke the silence after he drained the whisky from the tumbler. 

“So you made up your mind?” Price asked, raising his eyebrows, knowing what he was asking for. 

“I can’t delay it any longer. I .. I don’t want another regret.” Voice croaked, “I nearly lost her twice. I don’t.. I don’t know.. “ Simon buried his face in his hands, taking a deep breath. “I would not forgive myself if I miss the chance again. If I can live through the nightmare again.” 

Price has noticed Simon hasn’t been himself lately, after the incident. He was quieter than usual, not even responding to any of Soap or Gaz’s attempt of banter or teasing. Burying deep into his own mind. 

The mission has traumatised Simon, and made him realise things. 

Another prolonged silence lingered between the two. Price took up the bottle, pouring another serve to each of the glasses.

“I’ll get it out from the safe for you tomorrow, Simon. Don’t worry. She wouldn’t say no.” Price comforted Simon. “Good luck Si. I am glad you finally made up your mind.” 

Simon slams the tin box onto the table, more forceful than he intended. He winced slightly at his mistake as he saw you frowning. 

You stare at the box with a cup of tea in hand, making no attempt to reach for it. He watches you, waiting for your next move. 

“What is that?” You asked,  finally curiosity got the better of you. 

“Box.” 

“Of course I know it’s a box.” you rolled your eyes, huffed at his silly answer. “What’s inside the box?” you asked. 

“Things my grandmother left for me,” he whispered. “Open it. Please.” 

Pushing the cup aside, you reach for the box,  Simon’s heart twisted as he sees you open the lid with slight difficulty. Your hands and face were still covered with dressings and bandages from the injuries acquired from the terrorist incident. You are still alive. He closed his eyes, deep breaths in as he tells himself, calming that distress and panic rising from his stomach. You are here in front of him. Everything is alright. 

His eyes open again when he hears the pop of the tin lid. You slowly and gently shuffled through the black and white photos, fading letters, and all sorts of trinkets were inside there.  Simon held onto his breath as you took out the item he wanted you to have the most. 

You held the green velvet box in your palm, like a fragile china doll, afraid it would shatter any minute. Your eyes flicked up towards him, and down at the box again. 

He nodded his head to urge you to open the velvet box. 

Your breath hitched as you saw two simple gold bands inside.

“My grandmother left me this box before she passed on.” Simon explained. Your eyes open slightly wider, he never talked about his grandparents before. “The only happy memories I have from my childhood. Her and grandpa shielded me from the violence and cruelty that my fath… father… “ he shook his head, body shaking with the painful memory. Taking a deep breath, he continues. “She left this in my possession. Her and grandpa’s wedding bands,  along with their photos and correspondence when they were courting.They were married for nearly sixty years before grandpa passed away.” Simon whispered with a sad smile and glint of tears in Simon’s eyes.

Your expression softens as you listen to him, recalling memories. 

Raising his head to look at you right in the eyes, “You gave me a reason to live, a reason for life. You and the children.” He professed as he took a deep breath, voice shaking. “I can’t apologise enough for the actions and the way I treated you.. I can’t lose you again. I nearly lost you, because of my stupidity. My own selfishness, My….”

“Simon.” You put the box down, reaching for his hand across the table, to stop his rambling.“ Both of us were in a bad mindset back then. There were too many things happening at once. We can’t go back. We can only move forward.” You lean your body forward, kissing his hand lightly. “If this is what I think it is, my answer is yes.” 

He let go of your hand as he stood up abruptly, going around the table to scoop you up into a tight embrace, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You feel the wetness as his tears stream down your neck and shoulder, silently crying with relief. 

The weight is finally off his shoulder. 

He feels your arm reaching around his broad torso, squeezing tight.

“I love you very much, Simon Riley. The children love their Da as well, they ask about you all the time when you are away.”  you murmured, as you professed your love for him. “We will always be here for you, to welcome you home, and be your harbour when the storm comes, be your shelter when the time turns bad. You know you can trust and rely on us. Also the team as well. You have a family. You have us.” 

Pulling away from him, you gently grasp his hand, putting it over your heart.

“This is yours forever now. My love. For whatever challenges may come to us again. We will face it together.”

Simon is finally home. 

tag list:

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @homicidal-slvt

@floral-force @okayyadriana@cumikering @siilvan

@random-thot-generator @random0lover @devcica @jynxmirage@nrdmssgs @glitterypirateduck @rileyslibrarian

@mistydeyes, @groguspicklejar

@whydoilikewhump @gamergirlbones

[brewed-pangolin]

Pseudo Climactic

OG Soap MacTavish x Fem Reader

18+ MDNI Explicit Smut, Established Relationship, Alcohol Use, Intoxication, Reader turned into a pretzel, Slight Dom/Sub themes if you look closely, Absolute Filth

A/N: The continuous brainrot of Captain MacTavish carries on. I was supposed to drop this last night but had to partake in some New Year's festivities. Hope y'all had a fantastic night bringing in 2024, and that you didn't drink too much of the bubbly because...

Word count: 1.6k

Imagine trying to fake an orgasm with Captain MacTavish because you were too drunk off New Year's champagne.

You were currently folded in half, knees against your chest with strong hands pressing into the flesh of your thighs to keep you perfectly positioned for him against the continually whining mattress.

Soap MacTavish was lost. Mind blank and body in overdrive as he relentlessly thrusted his throbbing cock into your open and soaking cunt.

The lube was definitely doing its job. He'd come at you like a desperate and horny fiend and was well aware you weren't going to get wet enough for him.

He'd blame on it the dress in the morning.

You, on the other hand, were at complete fault for your currently doubled over disposition.

"Why'd ya got to wear that dress?" Soap whispered lowly against your ear. Snaking his hand around your waist to get a tight squeeze of your ass against the bar as you ordered yet another glass of champagne.

"Because I look damn good in it." You retorted, sliding your free hand down and over the supple roll of your hip. The tight, black sequin dress leaving nothing to the imagination as it hugged every voluptuous curve of your feminine form.

"Aye. Ya fuckin' do, lass. But donnae ya think ya'd had enough a-"

"Hands off."

You spat back, swatting his hand away as he tried to grab the glass from within your delicate grasp. Bringing the slender rim up to your lips with a confident smile. All while shooting him an arrogant glance over its circular base as its intoxicating effects coursed through your veins and into your consciousness.

"Easy, lass. Donnae make me pull rank on ya."

"Donnae make me pull rank on ya." You mocked deliberately, even as he narrowed his eyes at you.

His piercing cerulean stare gradually began to be shrouded by a heavy brow. The tight muscles of his jaw clenched while his hand glacially traveled from your ass the delve deeper between the flesh of your thighs.

"Keep it up, ya lit'le minx. An' I'll make sure th'ball ain't gonnae be th'only thing droppin' at midnight."

"Who says we gotta wait til midnight?"

Captain MacTavish was right. You were a little minx. And to solidify that fact, you grabbed your freshly filled glass of bubbly and pulled his hand out from between your legs.

Sauntering off as the steady thrum of the bar added to your already humming subconscious. Making you sway your hips like a sequin laced seductress, effortlessly gliding over towards the other end of the packed tavern to make a hasty exit.

You didn't bother looking back. Even amongst the cacophony of music and boisterous voices, you could hear the heavy cadence of his footsteps behind you. The very presence of the Captain made the air of the bar shift, forcing the crowd to part and allow for a more easily accessible departure.

"Like the parting of the red sea," you hummed quietly under your breath.

And as you made your way towards the open door, a sudden thought began to form in your drunkenly fueled mind. Bringing an overly confident smile to your lips as you placed the champagne glass on an empty table.

Soap MacTavish needed you. And he needed you now.

And goddamn, did he need you.

Yet just as his mind and body worked you like an overused sex doll, you were somehow still cemented in the mundane thoughts and trivial misgivings of reality. The endless glasses of champagne retaliating against your efforts to revel in his relentless pounding as continuous thoughts and regrets from the previous year perpetually flooded your mind.

"Goddamit, come on.." you managed under a heavy breath. Gritting your teeth, clenching your eyes shut to silence all senses and focus only on the feel of him.

You tried to let the world go. To lose yourself in the otherworldly pleasure that only this Scottish beast of man could thrust upon you.

But it was to no avail. Not even Captain Soap MacTavish, the love of your life and best lay you'd ever had could break the bindings of intoxicated actuality.

So you gave in.

You knew your body well enough to mimic the muffled whimpers and desperate gesticulations of an encroaching orgasm to a 'T'. Most men could never tell the difference.

Most men.

You were currently in the grips of giving an Oscar winning performance. Arching your back off the bed, eyes clenched and digging your nails into the flesh of your thighs, and putting on a verbal serenade that would put Meg Ryan to shame.

To put it lightly, your erotic enthusiasm knew no bounds.

And yet, just as you were about to reach the pinnacle of your climactic execution, he halted.

Full stop. System override.

Slowly, you opened your eyes. And when your gaze settled on him, you were met with an expression you had never come face to face with on him before.

Confusion. Resentment. But also, amusement?

"Wha' th'fuck are ye doin', lass?" He panted.

Gripping into the flesh of your thighs as a prominently furrowed brow etched itself onto his forehead. Only serving to accentuate his smug tone and inquisitive curl to his lips while his cerulean eyes threw daggers at you.

"John, I-"

"We're you tryin' to fake it on me, lass? Ya think I cannae tell the difference?"

"John, please. I-"

You were cut off yet again as he pushed himself inside to the brim. Filling you completely with his pulsing cock as he leaned his sweat laden, muscular frame on top of yours. Eyes rolling back in your head and forcing a moan to escape from the depths of your throat as he folded you into an incomprehensible pretzel.

"Ya cannae fake that shite with me. I ain't no one night stan'. I know yer body. Betta' than you, even..."

His hot breath fanned over the curve of your neck as he brought his lips down onto your throbbing pulse point.

That familiar, deep growling brogue vibrating against your flesh and acting like a blade to finally sever you from the tight champagned fueled grip of reality.

Letting out a drawn-out exhale, you felt your body steadily begin to relax underneath him. Pulling his densely built weight up just enough to let you breathe as his steely gaze raked over your trembling and contorted form.

"Tha's it. Now, wha' does m'poor drunken, needy lit'le lass need, eh? Ya wan' it slow? I can give it t'ya slow.."

Soap's words were like honey laced venom. Putting his full weight onto your folded legs once more, letting his hips gradually rock back and forth against your pelvis. A slow, languid movement of his stiffend length pumping into your heat that threatened to instantly pull you into the realm of his pleasured depths.

And just as you were beginning to settle into his unhurried rhythm, he forcefully thrusted himself back into you. Shoving your body into the mattress and pushing your head up against the headboard with a breathless gasp. Causing you to dig and claw your nails into the flesh of his shoulders as he threw his hips back to nearly pull out, only to vigorously throw himself back into your heat once more with a deep, resonating growl.

"Fuckin' hell, bonnie. Is this what'ya need? Wanna break in tha' New Year by breakin' th'bloody bed?"

"Goddammit, John," you managed with a groan in response. Gasping for breath as your mind try to play catch up to your body's ongoing pleasured torture.

"Maybe...somewhere, in between...just..fuck...get me off, baby..."

"Aye. I'm gonnae get ya off, ya needy lit'le minx. But yer gonnae have'ta promise me one thing."

"What?" you replied swifty in a breathless whisper.

The rumbling tremble of authority wrapped around his voice working you into a feverishly desperate mess, writhing underneath him as he brought his lips down to within inches of yours.

"Donnae ever where tha' fuckin dress in public again."

"Yes, sir."

"Tha's a good lass," Soap hummed quietly against your lips. Resuming the mind-numbing pace of his hips as you closed your eyes and let yourself finally give into sensual torment.

You spent the remainder of the night continuously moaning and bellowing his name from your overworked lungs, so much that so you knew you'd be hoarse in the morning. And Soap had had you twisted and bent over in such an array of contorted positions you'd more than likely put a hardened yoga instructor to shame.

By the end, you were so overstimulated and spent after your umpteenth orgasm that you could barely conjure up a single comprehensible thought. The effects of the alcohol long gone. All you could feel was the constant tingling along your skin accompanied by the distant thrum in your core as you slowly rode out the last waves of your final climax.

"You good, lass?" Soap asked, his tone more hushed and reserved as he laid comfortably on his back next you.

Ignoring the protest in your overused muscles to turn your head and steal a glance at him. His body glistening in sweat, the dim light illuminating him in such a way to accentuate the rolling and sculpted curves of his muscular frame.

"Yeah."

That one word was all you could manage on a hushed whisper. Letting your mind and body recover from what felt like hours of erotically fueled physical torture at the hands of the legendary Captain.

Within a matter of minutes, you could feel the tendrils of sleep beginning to wrap themselves tightly around you. Lazily raking your eyes over his blissfully spent form, giving your empty mind all the delicious morsels it needed to conjure up further scenarios you would throw at him throughout the next year.

And within these thoughts flooding your mind they're were two that were the most pronounced:

You would never wear that sequin dress out in public again. And you would absolutely fake another orgasm to truly push Soap MacTavish to his erotically fueled limits. Sans the champagne to truly revel in the entire experience.

Captain MacTavish Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @punishmepunisher @jynxmirage @homicidal-slvt @glitterypirateduck @obligatoryghoststare @mykneeshurt @astraluminaaa @writeforfandoms @simpingoverquestionablemen @thetrashpossum @havoc973 @kkaaaagt @shotmrmiller @haurasha @ang3lc @luismickydees

I know it's Monday, but I'm keeping the SSS tags because I'm the Soap Squad President and I do what I want. 💛🧼

[mamalunawolf]

Soap Mactavish || Never Gone but Lost Forever

TW: violence, language, mature ratings apply, some minor sexual content.

Minors do not read. And do not read if you are sensitive to violence and angst.

It felt like a century had passed since Johnny had died. Everyone grieved differently, Ghost kept on doing his missions. Over and over again. Captain Price, did the same. Missions. Either going to Urzikstan to see Farah. Or going to the states to see Laswell and her wife. Gaz, stayed behind. To keep an eye on you..

You were a different story. You were Soap’s everything. You were the calm in his storm. Soap loved you whole heartedly just like any damned fool. How those late nights were restless between the two of you. The way he would be on his knees like a helpless man towards the immortal. How his lips grazed over your stomach. To taste you like nothing else mattered anymore. How his calloused hands held your hips down just to caress your body. Every curve and contour of your body.

“You alright?” Gaz had spoken, knocking you out of your trance. The laptop had pulled up the old reports when Makarov was still out terrorizing the world. Having Johnny’s name pulled up, his photo on the side of the screen. A neutral expression on that Scottish man’s face. He was definitely the best. Clean sweep was what he was. You were trying to find means. A hope. That his ashes weren’t spread across Scotland Yard for nothing. If they were his ashes.

“Yeah. Fine. Just a little light reading.” You spoke, the exhaustion was there in your tone. And on your face. You closed your laptop and stood from the desk. Spilling the only good glass of wine you had that was on your desk. Thankfully, not a lot had ruined your paperwork. “I might head down to the gun range. Shoot some targets.” You suggested. More to yourself than anything. He could come, only if he wanted to.

“Need company? I think I need to get myself into my sniping practice. Cap’n got onto me for it. Again.” He chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. Only for you to nod and have him follow you out of your office.

—

Shot after shot rang through. Gaz seemed a little terrified that you managed to get each target in the heart or head. You practiced with Johnny too much to count. It was a good shot too. And each one better than the last. The TV behind them was playing. News reports of various things happening around the world.

“This just in! By the harbor was a report of a man taking down civilian casualties. Police have been informed and taking excessive action.” The reporter pans in view. A man in dark plated armor. Green lining into the suit. A black mask, covering over his mouth. The way his eyes stared down the camera before he shot it. Not allowing anyone else to see.

—

“Bravo six. This is Bravo 6-2 and 6-3. Coming in. We see the hostile.” Gaz and you were running. Preparing yourself for an incredible battle between what is right or wrong. Price heard the commotion and made you and Gaz team up and neutralize the target.

“Take the left! I’ll go right!” You had shouted at Gaz. Making sure no other enemy hostile was in the area except for the masked hostile that kept killing those in its wake. You had gotten closer to the hostile. Your gun raised and shooting bullets that did little to no damage. “Don’t move or I will use force!” And the hostile froze in place. Not a single step. Hardly any silence when the piercing screams of death was behind you. “Turn around. Now.” You demanded of him, the tone in your voice gave of some kind of authority.

“I won’t back down. I can’t do tha’ to ye.” He said, the undertone was calm. A little hostile and full of malice. The accent on the other hand was familiar. Scottish. As if you *knew* that voice before. Your eyes narrowed and you took a step forward.

“Soap?” You called out his name. The same lock of hair that trained down his head. His eyes like the oceans that always drew you in like a comfort and beacon of hope. He didn’t seem to know you, though. As his eyes were filled of confusion. The mask he dawned, covered his mouth. The hint of smugness if you could see that smirk on his face. Until Gaz came hurling in, and sent a punch to the face. He didn’t know, not until the mask flew off and johnny’s face appeared.

“Bloody hell.. Soap? Is that you, mate?” Gaz stood there cautiously, and stood in front of you as a protective shield. Johnny scoffed at you both. “Who the fuck is Soap?” He didn’t remember who he was and that painful feeling in your chest grew. He doesn’t remember you. He doesn’t remember the loving moments you shared.

“Johnny..Come on. Please… it’s me.” Your voice choked, you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders fall on you specifically. His eye twitched and he growled in his throat. He lunged forward with a running start and knocked Gaz to the ground. Johnny grabbed you by the throat and slammed you into the wall. “Johnny…please. Stop. This isn’t you.” You choked, your hands wrapped around his wrist and pleaded with him. Begged. His eyes. As if he remembered a little bit of your past together. “Don’t I mean anything to you?” The tears in your eyes pricked and you could hardly see straight.

His grip on you loosened and he stepped back and glared at you. His lips grazed over your ear as he leaned forward. “Everything is temporary, this was merely one of those things.” He moved away and turned his back on you. Grabbing his mask and leaving off the chopper that picked him up. Leaving you with those words echoing in your mind.

He was gone..

But for how long..?

[gazs-blue-hat]

Chapter two of my King!Johnny X Siren!Reader series!

Warnings: Mentions of hypothermia, Royal duties, religious trauma mention (not much), canon typical violence, canon typical language. (Please let me know if I missed any)

AN: As always, Dedicated to @sprout-fics for listening to my Johnny thoughts. Formatting may be weird due to me being on mobile.

Word Count: 2,255

Johnny MacTavish stood on the docks, his cloak over his shoulders and a lantern in his hands. His bag, weather worn and water rusted was tucked under the wheel, holding the small skiff steady. His eyes were glued to the sea, water like glass and stars reflected in the surface. He glanced back to the castle, large and black against the twinkling sky. He could see the silhouettes of the people inside the castle going about their evening. He could see the maids, dusting various fixtures and polishing fittings on the windows. He could see the knights, patrolling the hallways and stairs in pairs.

He sighed again, turning back towards the silent sea. It had been a fortnight since he had seen the siren on the shore and he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind since. Every waking thought was haunted by her. He would often wake in the night, hearing that scream in his ears and feeling the slap of her tail against his face. He would then fall asleep to the memory of her eyes. Eyes so full of anger and of fear, but also mystery and curiosity. Eyes as deep as the ocean itself but also full of the light of electricity from the sky.

He reached into his pocket, removing a small leather pouch tied off with a silver chain. He opened the pouch, looking at the glimmering scales within. He picked one out, rubbing his thumb against the slickened material. The scale had cracked against the rocks, it was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It glimmered in the lantern light like the last glimmer of sunlight over the waves. It reflected light like the water at sunrise, shimmering and shining as he moved it around in his grasp.

He closed his fist, replacing the scale back in the pouch and placing it back in his pocket. He stepped onto the skiff, water peacefully lapping at the wooden sides like the touch of a friend long since seen. Johnny inhaled deeply, feeling for the first time since he took up the crown, like he was home. The feeling of wood under his hands, the scent of salt in the air, the movement of the ship under his feet.

No doubt about it, this was his true calling. A man and his ship, alone on the tapestry of stars and sea. He thought back to his friends for a moment and the warnings they had given him. All four of his closest companions and advisors had warned him not to go on this venture.

The surgeon had warned him of the water’s temperature, of how the icy liquid would certainly be his death if he fell in. The Knight Captains had warned him of the vulnerability out on the water. And that if someone wanted to kill him, out on the open ocean would be the perfect place to do so. His royal advisor had mentioned all of the duties he had to see to in the morning, that he would be too tired to attend court the next morning.

Of course, none of the warnings had worked. Johnny was haunted by the siren he had seen and he would be damned if he couldn’t see her again. He pushed off the dock, using the oars he had to paddle away from the land. It was hard work, and it caused his shoulders to burn in a way they hadn’t since he had taken the crown.

“Had it dropped on my head is more like it.”

Johnny continued to row. Pulling and lifting and pushing and lowering, then pulling and lifting and pushing and lowering. He continued this cycle until the castle was no longer visible and he was alone in the sea of glass. He didn’t know exactly where he was going, only following the feeling in his chest that hadn’t gone away since he saw the siren on his shores. The feeling acted as some kind of compass, leading him further and further from the coast.

Once he felt he was in the right spot, he pulled the oars in and sighed softly, rolling his shoulders to loosen the muscles that had started to burn. It felt good to be working with them again, and it seemed that he had gotten far enough away that he was only able to see stars and the moon reflected on the ocean.

He extinguished his lantern and moved to the front of the boat, watching the ripples his skiff caused as it bobbed in the slight current that moved it. He looked out across the ocean, looking for any sign or...something.

“C'mon lass…you brought me out here. I cannae get a solid snooze without seeing you in some corner or hearing your scream.” He didn’t know who he was talking to, but he felt like he should speak. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, feeling the overgrown state of it. The surgeon had offered to trim it for him and give him a “proper cut”, but he had declined, opting to keep the hairstyle his crew had affiliated with him.

He sat silently for a long while, just looking up at the sky and the water. His mind wandered deep in his memories of the open sea and he realized how truly alone he was in this moment. Usually on a ship, he’d have his crew bustling above and below. It didn’t matter what time of day it was, there was always at least a few people milling about. But now, on this empty sea, he was alone. Completely alone with his thoughts and not a single other soul.

He shifted, his arms folding under his head to act as a barrier against the tough wood of the ship’s side. His breath crystallized before his eyes and he tucked the cloak tighter about his broad shoulders, refusing to shiver. He looked out, seeing the occasional shift in the water from some current or other natural occurance. He felt stupid, coming out here all alone just to get a glimpse of something that might not have existed in the first place. Still…something in his bones told him that he was in the fight place. He just needed to be patient.

Patience was never his strongest suit, and anybody who had served with him would tell that to anybody. He was known to be stubborn, headstrong, determined and a whole other slew of words that he didn’t pay much mind to.

After another hour of nothing, Johnny stood up, crossing his arms over his chest and looking into the depths. What was it his mama had always said? “If you want someone to approach you, you’ve gotta be friendly. Wipe that scowl off your face John, it doesn’t suit ye.” Taking a deep breath, he leaned over the side, looking into his own reflection in the water.

“I know…you were probably scared. Scared and beaten two ways to Sunday. Nobody deserves a beating like that, and I’m honestly shocked you lived through it. I’m glad…you washed up on my shores so I was able to help ye.” His words were soft, and settled over the stillness like a soft blanket on a bed. He felt at peace out here, the rocking of the boat and the smells of the sea. He felt like someone was truly listening to him, hearing his words and taking them to heart.

He spoke to the air for a long while, going from sitting to standing to pacing the length of the small wooden vessel. He spoke to the sea about her daughter. About how afraid for her he had been, and how much he longed to see her again. He didn’t know if the siren was listening or if the presence he was feeling was that of the ocean herself. All he knew was that it felt nice to speak freely without the thought of being judged.

He spoke about the stresses of being king, of how he never asked for the burden of monarchy to rest upon his shoulders. He spoke of his comrades, how his advisors didn’t know how long the conflict with the south could be avoided. He spoke about the surgeon and the knight captain, how they were sneaking into one another’s quarters and thinking nobody knew. He knew, of course. It was his castle after all and they were his closest friends.

Once he had exhausted the worries in his mind, he felt lighter than ever before, smiling softly at the water. He then thought back to the siren and groaned, forgetting why he had come out here. “Just a glimpse of the lass, I swear it. Just one more look and I won’t…” he sighed softly, shaking his head and sitting down with a heavy sigh. What was he doing out here? Speaking to nobody?

Praying?

Johnny MacTavish wasn’t a religious man. At least not anymore. Not since God had failed the men under his command. Not since God had abandoned them when they needed him the most. Not when God had taken his life away from him.

He groaned softly, laying back so he was laying across the width of the ship. He folded his arms behind his head and looked up at the stars, mapping the constellations in his mind and taking deep breaths. He felt for the pouch of scales in his pocket again, holding tightly to it like a life line. The only proof he had that she was real. That there was something for him to see out here.

“You’re a right bastard you are. I cannae sleep. I cannae think. I cannae breathe without thinking of her. That siren…you’re off your heid, that’s for damn sure.” His sentence tapered off as he closed his eyes and found himself drifting off to the first peaceful sleep he had experienced since seeing the siren two weeks ago.

——-

The first rays of sunlight weren’t what woke Johnny from his sleep. Nor was it the soft rocking of the ship and the rustling of the sail as the wind began to pick up. No, it was the sound of coins being dropped into his boat.

At the first soft clunk sound, he had opened his eyes, rubbing them free of sleep and beginning to stretch himself awake. He turned his head in mind yawn and then froze, blinking a few times to be sure he was seeing things right. One hand was holding tightly to the side of his skiff, the nails long and sharp, more resembling claws than regular fingernails. Johnny didn’t dare breathe as a second hand came up, a fist full of golden coins dropping the contents onto the wood of his ship.

Three more times the hand dropped coins on his ship, and with each delivery of gold, Johnny sat up more and more. By the time the hand retreated the third time, Johnny was able to peer over the edge of the skiff and see the rest of the person or thing giving him riches.

The same siren from before was right below him, her eyes just as piercing as they had been that night. She blinked at him, head turning to the side as she lowered her hands back into the water. Johnny placed hands on the railing but didn’t lean forward, not knowing what to do or what to say. The siren did the same, just treading water with her powerful tail and minimal arm movements.

Looking into the water, Johnny was able to see that her tail was still extremely tattered and she had wrapped it in some kind of seagrass or seaweed much like his surgeon had wrapped his wounds with fabric in the past. He slowly nodded and smiled at the siren, watching as she lifted her hand to her chin and slowly moved it in a downward arc towards her chest. Her arm didn’t bend and he could see the palm of her hand when she was finished.

He moved slowly, extending his hand out towards the siren in a form of handshake. He was careful not to lean too far over the side, lest he fell into the frigid water below. The siren hesitantly lifted her closed hand as well, reaching up slightly as if she was going to touch him. Johnny held his breath as the siren glanced between his hand and his face. Was she going to take it? Was she going to touch him?

Was he going to hear her voice?

The siren’s hand opened and a pearl sized emerald dropped into his open palm. He caught the gem and watched as she bared her teeth, hissed and then dove back into the water, quickly vanishing into the depths of the sea. He leaned over a bit more, causing the ship to tilt dangerously. He cursed himself and righted before the ship could list and further to the side.

The wind began to pick up and Johnny immediately went to fasten the sails. The ocean had shown him his siren again. She had shown herself to him. Sure she had hissed at him and disappeared once more, he had seen her again, and for now that was enough. With a smile on his face and hope in his heart, he aimed the bow of his ship towards home, all the while keeping the emerald tightly held in his hand.

“Until next time, my siren.”

[starandcloud]

Bullet Proof

Chapter 1

TW: Panic attack, PTSD episode, PTSD induced night terrors, Medication, Death

Chapter 1 -> Chapter 2

Bulletproof Mainlist

Mainlist

COD Masterlist

Bullets flew across the battlefield, hitting buildings and people. The ground was painted red as the crimson life drained from his fellow soldiers. What happened? everything was fine everything was supposed to be fine everything was going as planned this wasn’t planned this wasn’t supposed to happen why couldn’t he move why couldn’t he scream why wouldn’t his feet move why why why why why

Waking up in a cold sweat, Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley sat up. The once comforting blankets tangled around his legs and he could feel the puddle of sweat he had created. His shaking hand found his hair and pushed it from his face, the soaked strands that fell back into his face were enough to make him sharply inhale. The disgustingly dry desert air was suffocating, his binder cut into his ribs making oxygen an occasional thing. Forcing himself out of bed he fought with the tight fabric. The way it bit into his skin and the sweat trapped under it made him sick, the sand between his toes made him want to tear his feet off. Everything was too much. He could feel his skin touching him, the way his hair stuck to his skin made him want to throw up. Simon’s breaths came in short and sharp bursts, the Lieutenant didn’t notice the feral growl that left his lips as he ripped the fabric that restricted his movement off his shoulders, and sank to the floor. Why the fuck did he have to wake up like that? Still breathing heavy he glanced at the foldable table where his medication and a glass of water sat.

Oh.

That’s why.

Closing his eyes, Simon rested his head against the wooden support pole of his tent. The wood dug into his skull as he started to relax, he hated waking up like that. In a panic with overstimulation nagging at his body. He had pushed himself too hard during training, he knew he had and had planned to sleep it off. He could see how well that plan had worked. “L.T.?” The thick Scottish accent poured through the tent, making Simon tense ever so slightly.

It’s just Soap.

“Yes Johnny?”

“Are you okay?” ‘No I’m fucking not MacTavish. Do I sound okay?’

“I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

“Actually L.T. I was wondering if you wanted a smoke with me?”

Silence filled the tent as Ghost contemplated getting up, a baggy shirt would cover his chest. He just had to wait a bit longer until he could go on leave, he had everything planned out. Captain Price was more than helpful with planning, Simon had never been excited for something like this.

“Yeah. Just a minute Johnny.”

Simon pulled himself up and pulled on a tight bra and a baggy shirt, slouching slightly he grabbed his cigarettes and lighter.

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Can I please have a small oneshot on a topic "What does Simon Riley need"? Maybe it's a promotion, or a raise? An apology, maybe? Can be also not so serious, maybe 'steal Soaps practice chanter, so the base can live in peace and silence for at least one evening'. Love-love-love!

Ooooooh I like it! I set it before my fic, I'm sure people are absolutely fed up with finding Riot everywhere.

Also, I can't write short things it seems! Thanks for the ask, I had a lot of fun! <3

''What do you mean, there's nothing else to do?''

Captain Price sighed, looking up from his own paperwork to find Simon's glaring brown eyes fixed on him. The Lieutenant was standing right in front of his desk, arms crossed, his looming, imposing frame almost obscuring the entire view of the office's door.

''Simon, it's a bank holiday. More than half of the privates are on leave, and the training drills are on hold. There's no one to train, no new paperwork, no vehicle needs fixing''

''Give me some of your paperwork then''

Christ, he sounded almost desperate. For someone else, Ghost's voice was as deadpan and inexpressive as always, but for someone who had known him for more than a decade, from before he was Ghost, it was easy to distinguish the little details. The stiffness of his broad shoulders, the way his fingers dug in his own biceps while crossing arms, the way his eyes were almost pleading.

''I'm almost done and I'm leaving, I just have to sign it. And no, you can't forge my signature''

''Well, in fact I can''

Price chuckled, shaking his head and making a show of how he was signing the last paper. Ghost groaned, tempted to just throw his hands in the air, but he simply walked over to the window to look out. The base was eerily silent.

The Captain waited patiently, checking his papers, but in reality he was observing the Lieutenant. It wasn't unusual for them to spend hours in silence in that very office, doing paperwork and sharing a glass of whiskey, sometimes even a cigar. He knew how to deal with Simon, he had done so countless times in the past. He just had to wait.

Sometimes, he even knew how to deal with Ghost.

''I just need something to do'' The younger man muttered at last, his back still to his superior officer.

Price nodded knowingly, tossing the stack of papers on his desk and leaning back on his chair, looking at Ghost.

''Well, there might be something...''

''What is it?'' Simon turned to look at him, not even bothering to hide his anxiety. He needed something, anything to do, to quiet down his mind.

''Soap and Gaz are plotting something in the common room'' Price checked his watch, with a serious face. ''I heard them during breakfast. I didn't quite catch what it was''

''Knowing them, nothing good'' Simon was already thinking of the possibilities, each one grimmer than the last. They could be planning to make the microwave explode. Or maybe fill the room with post-its, one of them had done so to their office, so it wasn't beyond them. Or, God forbid, they could be planning to stuff the sofa's cushions with glitter. They had already done that as well.

''Exactly'' The Captain nodded, observing with satisfaction how Ghost's eyes were already distant, his brain trying to come up with a plan to discover the Sergeants' shenanigans. ''I trust you'll keep an eye on them to make them behave, Simon''

Ghost just grunted. He didn't want to appear thankful or anything, but Price took the sound for what it was, and waved him goodbye while the Lieutenant left the office, his heavy steps echoing in the hallway until they faded in the distance.

*

When Ghost was halfway down the corridor, with the common room's door in his sight already, he could hear it. The microwave. Popping sounds and giggling.

The fucking microwave.

He quickened his pace and threw the door open, ready to sternly tell off both MacTavish and Garrick, only to find them excitedly gathered around the microwave, with an empty bowl and another bowl full of... popcorn.

They were making popcorn.

''Lt!'' Soap's wide grin welcomed him. ''Do you want to join us? We're going to watch a film!''

Even Gaz looked glad to see him. Ghost's eyes narrowed beneath his balaclava.

''What are you plotting?''

''Right now, just to get all the kernel to pop'' Gaz shrugged, still smiling and then watching again the microwave. Both Sergeants were giggling with glee each time there was a loud pop sound coming from inside, and Ghost considered for a moment if they had hit their heads earlier in the day or something.

''Are you sure that's all you're doing?''

''Aye, Lt... There's nothing to do, and most people have left for the holiday. Oi, care to join us?''

The Lieutenant considered his options. He could leave, which was his usual choice, and then the two Sergeants would finally do whatever it was they were planning to really do. Or he could stay, and twart their plans.

''Hmph'' He grunted, nodding gruffly just once. Soap's grin widened, and put the bowl full of popcorn in his hands, and Ghost stood there, not really knowing what to do while the Scott grabbed another.

The microwave started beeping, and he almost stepped back, completely sure that it would explode and that it was all a ploy, but Gaz simply opened the door and opened the bag to drop the hot popcorn in the empty bowl, so that the three of them had a bowl each.

The two Sergeants sat down on the sofa, leaving the armchair for him. That's what Ghost preferred anyway, and the three of them were too big to share the sofa without being all over each other like a pile of rags.

''What are we supposed to be watching?'' The Lieutenant asked, a bit of scorn in his voice, obviously not really believing their story. But Gaz and Soap were just smiling like little, innocent kids while the Scot turned the smart TV on and inserted an USB.

''I downloaded one of the films I used to watch as a kid with my fam, and Gaz used to watch it too! So we thought we'd go down the memory road''

''Murder by Death'' Gaz laughed, his mouth already full of popcorn. ''Have you watched it, Lt?''

''Can't say that I have'' God, even the title was absurd. What did Price think these two idiots would...?

Crap

Price

The fucking old man (only older than him by a few years, but old nonetheless).

Ghost was tempted to stand up and go find Price so he could stuff his throat full of popcorn, but in that moment the film started and Soap and Gaz cheered like two idiots.

He would have smiled if it hadn't been so fucking stupid. But the smell of the popcorn, and the... nauseatingly, pleasantly domestic feeling that was creeping in while he observed the two younger men all giddy...

He'd stay for a bit. Just to make sure they would behave.

*

An hour later, Price was passing through when he heard laughter coming from the common room. Three voices.

One was Soap, laughing hysterically. Gaz's laugh was a bit quieter, but he seemed to be enjoying it just as much. And the third voice...

The Captain stopped in his tracks, just to listen to it a bit more. Simon's laugh, which he hadn't heard in years. He had heard chuckles, snorts, maybe a short barked laugh. But not that belly laugh that Price remembered so fondly and so sadly.

Smiling, he continued his way, satisfied. His own little plot had worked beautifully. He still got it.