#ghost call of duty

[ghouljams]

Something something Soap licking your come off Ghost's mouth after he's eaten you out because that's the only taste Ghost will let him have

[gloomwitchwrites]

What about the whole 141 ships it or tries to play wingman, but the couple are idiots in love and denial? Lol

The way I SMILED while writing this prompt. I had so much fun with this. Thank you so much for sending it in! This whole thing is just humor, hijinks, and shenanigans. And lots and lots of denial. Enjoy!

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

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

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, brief alcohol, denial of feelings, shenanigans, humor, fluff, suggestive themes

Word Count: 1k

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

John Price

“That,” emphasizes Kyle by pointing in Price’s direction, “is a man in love.”

“It’s like watching your old man attempt to flirt,” mutters Simon.

“You’d know all about that wouldn’t you, Lt?” smiles Johnny.

“Fuck off, Soap.”

Kyle frowns. “Think we should do something?”

Simon side-eyes him. “Like what?”

“Step in?” shrugs Kyle.

“Look at him. I think the captain can handle himself,” replies Johnny, leaning against the doorframe as Price talks with you across the room.

As Price talks, he reaches for his mug. He shoots wide, knocking it over, and spilling the contents everywhere.

“Well…I take that back,” sighs Johnny.

Kyle shakes his head. “I can’t watch this.”

“We should help,” Johnny says over his shoulder. “These two lovebirds need a push.”

Simon snorts. “They’ll figure it out.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then they don’t.”

Johnny guffaws. “Hate to be dating you, Lt.”

Simon leans toward Johnny, voice low. “Want to have a go?”

Kyle reaches between the two men, snapping his fingers to get their attention. “Pay attention.” He shakes his head. “Fucking weirdos,” he mutters.

“Fine,” says Simon. “I’ll step in.”

“And do what?” counters Johnny.

“Tell them to kiss already.”

“No,” says Kyle. “No!”

“Too late,” whispers Simon as he walks into the room, heading for you and Price.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Look at those idiots,” sighs Kyle, leaning an elbow on the high-top table behind him.

Price and Simon stand on either side of him, watching as you and Johnny attempt to play pool. Johnny uses the cue stick as a support, both hands clasped over the top of it, chin resting on his hands. There’s a massive smile on his face, eyelids a bit soft as he gazes at you. You are not serene. With hands waving in the air, you appear slightly irritated but also amused.

“He won’t go for it,” replies Simon, crossing his arms over his chest.

“See how close they’re standing?” observes Kyle.

You and Johnny are almost on top of each other. Only one of you needs to lean in to erase all separation.

“Leave them be,” mumbles Price. “They’ll figure it out.”

Kyle addresses Price. “They’re both in love. Look at them. Their seconds away from having it off on the pool table.”

“If they start making out, I’m leaving,” grumbles Simon.

Price cracks a smile. “It’s denial,” he sighs, reaching for the ash tray to move it closer. “Lovebirds don’t want to admit it.”

Kyle shakes his head, turning back to you and Johnny. Johnny is teasing you now, cracking jokes, making you all flustered.

“Fucking hell,” mutters Simon. “Just fuck already. Give us all some bloody peace.”

Soap tilts his head slightly, whispering something to you that as you smacking his arm and laughing hysterically.

Price knocks back his whiskey. “We need a plan.”

“Agree, Captain,” replies Kyle. He turns to Simon. “You in?”

“You know it.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“You look upset, Lt.”

“I’m fine,” growls Simon.

Johnny and Kyle both glance at Simon’s whiskey glass at the exact same time. Simon’s hand is clutching it tightly, knuckles white from the effort.

“Sure about that?” asks Johnny.

“Yes,” snarls Simon.

Johnny’s lips purse, his gaze shifting to a place across the bar. “Wouldn’t be that a certain someone—”

“I told you,” says Simon slowly. “I’m not angry.”

Kyle leans in, lowering his voice. “Johnny and I could chase them off. Give you an opening.”

Simon’s grip on his glass relaxes a bit. The intensity between his brow softens.

Johnny chimes in. “What do you say, Lt?”

Simon rolls his shoulders, straightening his back, the grip on his whiskey class easing completely. “Looks like they need saving.”

Johnny is nodding enthusiastically, already standing, pushing back his chair. He clasps Simon’s shoulder and nods at Kyle.

“I’ll go shepherd them off,” says Kyle, winking at Johnny as he heads in your direction.

“There’s nothing going on between us, Soap,” says Simon.

“Course, Lt,” nods Johnny as Simon gets up from his chair, aiming for you. When you notice Simon, the corners of your mouth upturn into a huge smile. “Nothing at all.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“What?” asks Kyle around his toothbrush.

Johnny and Simon have him cornered in the communal locker room. It’s late, the three of them just in from a quick mission. Simon looms, his stare intense as Johnny crosses his arms over his chest, leaning forward slightly like he knows a secret Kyle doesn’t.

The two men remain silent.

“This is fucking weird,” continues Kyle, his gaze darting between the two of them.

Johnny’s knowing grin widens. “You’ve got a thing for one of the team.”

Kyle blinks. “Price?” he splutters, little droplets of toothpaste shooting in various directions.

Simon chuckles. “The other one, smartass.”

Kyle spits into the sink and rinses the toothbrush under the faucet. “Don’t know what you’re on about,” he mutters.

Johnny steps around to Kyle’s right side, he and Simon boxing him in. “Do you think we didn’t hear the two of you over comms?”

Kyle takes a step back, hands raised. “Just a bit of banter.”

“Banter?” counters Simon. “That was banter?”

Kyle shrugs. “What else would you call it?”

“Flirting,” deadpans Simon

“Verbal fucking,” replies Johnny, just as monotone.

Kyle shakes his head, hands still raised like he’s about to ward off evil. “You have it all wrong.”

“Do we?” asks Simon. “Then explain what happened after we got off the plane.”

Kyle swallows. “Nothing.” Johnny’s knowing grin returns. He scoots closer and Kyle groans, running his hand over his face with annoyance. “Don’t go there, Soap.”

“Are tongues down each other’s throats nothing?”

Kyle places his hand over Johnny’s face and gives him a light shove. “Nothing happened.”

Johnny swats at Kyle’s hand. “Admit it!”

“Should go for it, mate,” says Simon.

“Nothing is going on!” Kyle tosses his towel onto the bench and slides on a pair of joggers. “Leave it.”

Johnny and Simon exchange a look.

“What?” prompts Kyle, shirt in hand.

Johnny leans in, lowering his voice. “Want us to have a chat with them?”

“Fuck off. The both of you.”

taglist:

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[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Y/N: Hey so as my stalker exactly how much of my life do you see? Ghost, from inside the walls: Are you asking because you tripped on your own shoelaces in the hallway and fell on your face? Y/N: oh..so you saw that... Ghost, trying to be nice: ....no

[machveil]

SCREAMING I’M SCREAMING

asking Johnny why he would make that bet a couple days later and Johnny is like, “What’re you talkin’ ‘bout, bonnie?”

fully believe simon would tell you that he's made a bet with the guys that he can get you to sleep with him and since soap knows he has no charisma whatsoever, the pot is sizable. he'll split half with you, ofc. he's not one to play a bird, he says. he's not that cruel.

except there is no bet. no pot. and what money he gave you came out of his own pocket.

[loveydovey489]

Ghost is like uncannily good with animals. He is on some Snow White shit.

TW: none :3

Ok, so hear me out, he’s not a dog person (they do swarm to him tho, because dogs always go for the one who wants to be around them least)

But yk what animals he’s good with? Very skidish animals (deer, cats, birds rabbits, ect.) because he dose not actively seek out said animals, and they just come to him!

I’ve said this before, ghost loves a good birdwatch, and he’ll lay down. And since he’s a sniper, will not move a muscle, and birds will often come and sit on him, or inspect him, he dosent move. He won’t even pet them. He dose not care! They’re chilling and so is he,

even fish love him. But he fucking hates fish so he makes an effort to be as loud and making as much movement as possible,

And if he’s set up on overwatch in a forest area or any wildlife area for a long time, by the time he has to take the shot, or he is clear to get up, birds. Deer, fucking squirrels have come sat. Slept. He is so chill with them,

once him and price where on overwatch and he saw it happen, price scared it off. Because he tried to pet the bird, and it flew off, :(

Ghost:“Look don’t touch sir,”

Price:“ like you, lieutenant.”

[simonrileysfavteacup]

(HIIII LOVIES SORRY I BEEN MIA, I GONNA START THE BODYGUARD!SIMON X READER TOMORROW! BE PREPARED! Here's a blurb until then!)

Laying with Simon in bed, his shirtless body beneath you. Your head lies on his chest, a hand on his pec. His arms curl around you, holding you close. He takes in the scent of your shampoo in your hair. Coconut. 

Do coconuts even have a smell?

Well, whatever. He likes it anyways. Even if he’s never actually smelled a coconut or-

“Where did you get this?” You trace a hand down the big scar on his pec. 

“Iraq,” he pulls you in closer. 

“When were you deployed there?” 

“Four years ‘go,” he looks down at you. 

“What for?”

“Private mission.”

“Who with?”

“Why ya askin’ so many questions, lovie? It was Johnny and me.”

“Just curious. I like hearing about you.”

Simon smiles, cupping your cheek. “It was a good mission, just got into a bad fight.”

“Did it hurt?” 

“Nothin’ hurts.” 

“Oh really?”

You pinch his chest. He winces. 

“Lovie,” he warns. 

“What? You said nothing hurts!”

He pinches you back. You squirm. 

Then began, the amazing, amazing, Pinch War of 2025.

[guppybibi]

just a proper written fic for the one i posted abt earlier! not a part 2, which i will be writing soon :3

tag: @msilwrites <3

It’s been a month since Johnny had gotten shot in the head, and as his spouse you were the first one to receive the news of his accident. When you arrived at the hospital, to see Johnny still there and alive, well barely, it felt like your heart sunk to the deepest pit in your stomach.

Recovery wasn't quick, that's for sure. As of now, Johnny is still going through physical therapy, medication, all of that. His speech was apparently affected by the injury as well, so…him not talking as much wasn't that strange, right?

Whatever it takes for him to recover, I guess. You remained positive, hoping that Johnny will make a full recovery soon. After all, you researched that younger people like Johnny have a better chance of recovery.

~~~~~~

Dinner hasn't been this quiet in like what…3 years?

Johnny’s has been staring at his plate full of food for the past 10 minutes now, you're not exactly sure if calling his attention is the right thing to do. He was unresponsive, despite you trying to initiate a conversation.

With a sigh, you continue eating anyway. The food was getting cold. ‘Johnny will get better soon. This is fine, you can wait. You will wait.’ You think, the words flooding your mind.

~~~~~

Shit. Johnny was gone, where the hell could he possibly be? He never wanders off, even before he got shot! You've been scrambling around the house for a good half an hour now, practically turning it upside down. It was no use, maybe you could find him outside..

Hurriedly, you put on your coat and scurry away into the city in hopes to find Johnny mindlessly going around.

The park, not there. The restaurant you two always used to go to, not there either. Where can he be? You’ve basically toured the whole place! There were swirls of worry forming in your heart, making it beat faster.

You weren't looking at where you were going from how much you were panicking, shock when you collided with what felt like a wall basically. You look up, realizing that it was Simon you bumped into.

This was good! Maybe he saw Johnny, maybe he was with him even! Hope fills inside you, spreading throughout your body.

“Simon! Oh, it's so good to see you–have you seen Johnny? I’ve been looking everywhere for him!” You ask, clearly exhausted judging by the beads of sweat running down your forehead and the way you panted.

But you don't miss the way Simon’s eyebrow raises, eyes peering at you. “What do you mean, love? It's Johnny’s death anniversary today.” He replies, seeing your gaze move from his eyes to the bouquet of flowers in his hands.

You blinked multiple times, waiting for Simon to hopefully say it was a joke. You even make the effort to check your phone that it wasn't April Fools. Trying to speak was impossible as you felt your words get stuck in your throat, it wasn't difficult for Simon to notice.

“Take a deep breath, alright? Take your time.” Simon attempts to soothe, placing a hand on your back and patting it rhythmically.

Once you got a hold of yourself, your voice still shakes as you respond. “Johnny is…what? Are you kidding me right now, Simon? T-this really isn't funny..”

Denial. Simon isn't surprised, he's seen go down before. It's better to approach the situation gently, to not startle you as much.

“I'm not lying, Y/N. I’d never lie about something so sensitive like this, I am telling the truth.” He tells, his voice firm yet reliable. He was going to be your rock, it's the mission Johnny had left for him to do.

“Johnny is gone…” You mumble under your breath, repeating the words as if you were in some sort of twisted trance. But some kind of realization dawns on you, you look up at Simon with eyes widened in horror.

“Who the fuck was I living with this past year?”

And even Simon couldn't answer that.

[machveil]

the best case scenario of boys will be boys

truly kills me that simon makes his masks. bleaches the fabric accessories. looks at himself in the mirror and thinks hell fuckin yeah, this is the look. then crams his wraparound sunglasses over the eyeholes.

[amaranthinespirit]

i love your posts sm!!!!

how do you think simon would cheer you up if you’re sad?

i’m thinking something sfw like watching a movie, making stupid jokes, tickling you, etc.

need some comfort ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

how simon riley would treat you when you're sad

simon was never good at comforting people, I mean look at the guy. emotional vulnerability wasn't his thing, but when he saw you, lip trembling and puffy-eyed, his heart wretched with an unfamiliar feeling.

but he didn't know what to do, except for what his mother did for him when he felt down as a kid. so he slipped out to the shops and grabbed a ridiculous amount of your favorite sweets and snacks, and a couple of pints of ice cream (women like that when they're sad, right...?)

he would stand awkwardly next to your sniffly figure, tissues surrounding you. you assumed that when he left, it was because he didn't care, but seeing him stand beside you made you a little confused, a perplexed look knit into your features, "what's all that for?"

"f'you," he'd say simply, but you didn't know what to make of the 5 or 6 bags in his arms so you nodded. you actually thought the gesture was sweet, considering his avoidance of any emotion other than melancholy, as he seemed to be drowning in it.

it felt like a victory when you patted the couch next to you, an invitation that sparked his heart full of warmth and pride. he'd join you in your sad movie, making stupid little comments to lighten the air as you share various snacks that were sure to give you cavities.

and now, his signature jokes. they worked on soap, they can work on you, right?

"two fish are in a tank," he murmurs, his voice rough and deep, causing you to split your attention away from the screen, "one turns to the other and says, 'you know how to drive this thing?'"

his heart fluttered at the laugh it ripped from your throat, your cheeks flushing up, "you're so stupid," you merely shook your head, watching his eyes crinkle.

he chuckled too, resting a rough hand on your knee, his touch gentle despite his marred skin, "I know, baby, but ya love me."

"unfortunately," you quipped back, earning a scoff from the large man.

"yer'supposed t'say fortunately, but I'll let it slide."

[ghouljams]

'Permanent ring but it goes on his weener' is an even scarier thought 😭

That's just a chastity cage my love, and it's actually a beautiful thought. Imagining Ghost all locked up, custom cage to hold his stupid big cock, pre-come dripping like a faucet between the bars as his cock strains to get fully erect against the warm metal. His lips red from kissing at your cunt for so long, his eyes glassy with unshed tears, he knows better than to beg for something you're not going to give him. Dry January doesn't mean liquor in the Riley household, it means no wetting his cock, and you're intent on enforcing that resolution. Even if it means coming on his fingers while he holds his tongue against your clit, waiting for you to grind on it, to take your pleasure from him in a way that he can't take from you.

It's a good thing he doesn't have to shower at the barracks these days, couldn't begin to imagine how he'd explain the cage to the rest of the men. (As if none of them would drop to their knees to try and lap at the thick length of him between the bars, Christ he'd be so sensitive, maybe even dribble his ruined orgasm down the shower drain so the sergeants can text you about him breaking the rules.)

[spurbleu]

ghost!simon x reader.

cute little thing, weren’t you.

house renovator, too-big armor of your fathers leather belts and iron tools sits on your hips, gloves hiding the dirt under your nails. grease grows from your scalp and sits on your neck, thawing into your shirt collar with a scent that reminded simon of what it was like to be living.

laboring.

and you work tirelessly, picking up exactly where your old man had left it. peeling the floral wallpaper to reveal yellowing tobacco and its implied wallowings. scrubbing the crevices even simon didn’t know existed- and he haunts it.

wherever you step, a blanket of bleach and rubber follows you. eventually your mortal bones guide you to stiff mattress respite- until morning claws at your ankles and pulls you back to your unofficial labor.

and simon can’t help but be fascinated.

observing as you prune the wood floors like feathers, deep within a self inflicted madness of monotony. he can’t even be upset that you’re tearing apart his home when you look so agonizingly alive doing it. as if destruction gave you the foundation to breath, and rebuilding was your exhale.

he hates to admit it, but he cannot lie to anyone but himself if he says he hasn’t grown fond of the little thing meddling with his backyard.

he had plans to spook you months ago, but maybe he’ll let you stay a little longer- if only to protect you from the creaky floor boards at night.

[hoodiepandaninja16]

Oh Simon, you lovable idiot. 🥰🥰🥰

Simon who's an attention whore. You cooking? So he's clinging on to your neck, grabbing away that spatula and kissing you giddy. You on work ? So he's leaning against the wall, brooding and whining and mewing. You out with your friends? He's sending that Little scratch he got, captioned with, “need kissies now”, he lowkey wants your fuckin' attention all the damn time and he's so shameless about it.

[luxcuriousao3]

Continuation of this angsty Ghoap blurb I wrote (part one is here). This is still from Ghost's POV.

-

They don’t talk about it.

It's normal that they don’t, really. Routine. They fight, they don’t speak for a few days, but they’re always drawn back towards each other, like moths to a flame. The pull is a siren call, irresistible. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before.

The next time they fuck, Johnny insists on riding him, clearly not trusting Ghost not to pin him down and bite him again.

That hurts, but he knows he deserves it, so he allows Johnny that sliver of control.

His teeth didn't end up breaking skin, and Ghost is glad for that, in retrospect. He doesn't want to hurt Johnny—and as good as Ghost’s mark on him would look, it doesn't belong there. Johnny isn’t his, can’t be his, doesn’t deserve to be his. Johnny deserves something soft. Something kind. If Ghost were a better man, he’d cut him loose to go find it.

Every time Johnny comes to his room at night—not as often as before, even less so since Ghost went rabid and bit him—he tells himself that he’ll do it. He’ll be better, just long enough to free Johnny of the burden that he is. But he never does.

Selfish, selfish, selfish.

They’re at a pub tonight, all four members of the 141. Johnny’s traded his usual spot next to Ghost for one next to Gaz, and Ghost pretends he doesn’t notice, that it doesn’t bother him. He shouldn’t notice. It shouldn’t bother him. They’re teammates, colleagues. Nothing more, nothing less. Just like he told Johnny all those weeks ago.

So Ghost doesn’t burn with jealousy when some bloke starts flirting with his sergeant. He doesn’t grind his teeth when Johnny doesn’t turn him down right away. Doesn’t ache when he thinks about how Johnny wouldn’t have entertained so much as a glance at someone other than Ghost, before. He doesn’t clench his fingers around his pint so hard the glass creaks ominously, doesn’t glare daggers at the stranger’s ugly mug, doesn’t feel the urge to grab Johnny and bend him over the table right then and there, show everyone in the damn bar exactly who he belongs to.

Mine, mine, mine.

But he’s not, he’s not, so Ghost just gets up and slips outside for a smoke as Johnny charms the fucker effortlessly and gets free drinks in return. He’s on his way to getting properly sloshed, but he’s not there yet, and Ghost can feel those blue eyes on his back as he leaves. It’s as gratifying as it is infuriating, that Johnny notices him leaving. That he doesn’t hop up to join him like he used to. Like he should.

No, not like he should. Rather, how Ghost wants him to. Wants him at his side, always.

Selfish bastard.

He stares out into the dark street, trying to pull himself the fuck together. He can’t be acting like this. Like a schoolboy with a crush. Like a possessive boyfriend. He’s not Johnny’s, he never will be. He can’t be. Everything Ghost touches, he destroys. He’s breaking Johnny already—he can see how the other man still craves something more from Ghost, despite pulling away. That he always will, that no matter how many pieces of him Ghost steals and grinds to dust beneath his boots, Johnny will never leave, not entirely.

Ghost knows. Sometimes, Johnny looks at him with so much heartbreak and want in his eyes, it takes his breath away. And fuck, his sergeant was staring longingly at a couple in the pub just tonight, before that prick came over to flirt with him.

Ghost is ruining him. Soon, there will be nothing left of Johnny but an empty shell.

A cold sort of acceptance falls over his shoulders, and Ghost stubs his smoke out on the bricks behind him before flicking it away. As he heads back inside, he knows there’s no more running from this. No more being selfish. He will end things. He’ll let Johnny go, even if it kills him.

And fuck, but it feels like it just might.

Especially when he gets back to the team's booth, only to see that Johnny and the bloke that's been chatting him up are both gone. He stops, goes still, stares at Johnny's half-finished pint on the sticky tabletop, wonders if maybe he was wrong, maybe Johnny scrounged up enough survival instincts to leave Ghost after all. Like prey spooking in the presence of a predator.

“He's takin’ a piss,” Price speaks up, reading his mind and cutting through Ghost’s spiraling thoughts. He’s got a hand on Garrick’s nape, the younger man groaning pathetically as he leans against his Captain, green around the gills. “Think Kyle's had too much ta drink, gonna bring ‘im back to base. You mind tellin’ Soap where we went?”

Ghost gives him a jerky nod, and Price drags Garrick out of the booth, slinging his arm around his shoulders.

“Ta. See you in the mornin’,” he says, and Ghost watches him lead Garrick outside before sliding into the booth. He stares hard at the door to the men’s room for nearly five minutes, but Johnny doesn’t reappear. He can already feel his determination to do the right thing slipping, and so he gets up and strides over, the crowd parting for him as it always does. Johnny’ll hate him for ending things in dirty pub toilet of all places, but perhaps that’s for the best.

Ghost would rather hurt Johnny a little bit right now than shatter him later.

And he will, if Johnny stays. Ghost will sink his teeth into him and rip apart slowly, piece by piece.

Ghost wasn’t made for love. He was only made to destroy.

Abandonment is the only mercy he can offer.

[alchemyfreak321]

"Stand down Sergeant" Call of Duty: Modern Warfare III

[dimlylittorch]

these boys yall.. why have 1 when you can have 4😭🙏

My Masterlist🌱

the 141 x chubby!transmasc!sweetheart!volunteer!reader

warnings: mentions of violence, blood, hurt/comfort

you had decided that you wanted to do something more purposeful with your life. Instead of working a retail job during the summers between your college courses, you decided to start volunteering with the Red Cross (or whatever your equivalent would be).

You end up being sent to work at a military base, mainly focused on the care and comfort of the soldiers. you were almost acting how a therapy dog would- you go around and interact with the soldiers sweetly, doing your absolute best to be a ray of sunshine for them.

you kept a clipboard on you at all times, keeping track of every soldiers name, rank, and adding little notes for things you wanted to remember. There were a lot of men here, and keeping track of them all was hard- especially when some didn’t even show their faces.

Always wearing silly little pins on your shirt, one with your pronouns, another that said ‘free hugs’. You liked them and you always felt a little smile creep up over your lips when you felt some of the men reading them.

You quickly became familiar with the task force 141, as they were some of the more highly trained soldiers, easily setting them apart. You had also been assigned to focus on a certain sector of barracks, which just so happened to include their own. Little did you know what it would be like to be a bunny walking into a wolf’s den.

The first person you met was Ghost. You had decided to do a ‘treat day’ once a week, where you went to each barrack and knocked on the door, either handing the soldiers their treat or leaving it by their door. The other three hadn’t answered, but when you get to Ghost’s dorm you heard a huff and the click of the lock.

What you never expected was to see Ghost shirtless in dark gray sweatpants and his mask pulled over his face. He looks down at you with a hard stare, and naturally your eyes flit to his bare chest for a moment before quickly looking up to meet his gaze. You’d seen him in passing, but you’d never spoken.

“You’re Lieutenant Riley, correct?” You smiled up at him, doing your best to act like he wasn’t half naked in front of you.

“Call me Ghost. Wha’ do ya’ want?” He mutters gruffly as he keeps one hand on the door and the other on the door frame.

Smile faltering for just a moment, you quickly reach into the small satchel you had on. “I’m the new volunteer that’s assigned to your dorm sector” you explain as you pull out a little bag of cookies, tied with a ribbon. “I thought I’d do a treat day for you all once a week” you murmur as you offer him the bag.

He stares at it for a few seconds, a little caught off guard. He gently takes it from you, looking at it carefully before looking back at you. “Dogs get treats.” He mutters, though there’s no real bite to his tone.

Your smile quickly widens, a soft chuckle slipping past your lips- which immediately makes his heart stop for a moment. That laugh.. that laugh was something he knew he’d want to hear again. There was nothing soft or sweet on this goddamn base. They couldn’t even hire someone for the night- no way to sneak them in. But then you showed up on his doorstep.

Closing your satchel, you look up at him with a playful smile. “Good boys get treats. I don’t think the species matters.” You grin before you offer a small wave of goodbye, walking down the hallway onto your next stop. He stands frozen in his doorway, watching you as you walk away. You just called him a good boy? Christ almighty.

It was pretty damn obvious what happened next- Ghost told the rest of the boys about you. How soft and sweet you were- how you flirted with him and made it seem like nothing. You were a natural at being kind. Something they weren’t used to.

The second to meet you was Gaz. He was a charmer, and unlike Soap he was actually successful at it. He’d had a whole plan of how he was going to be all suave when he introduced himself to you formally- but that changed pretty quickly.

You had been doing some work right next door to the medical ward when some soldiers returned from a mission gone wrong. Multiple men were injured, and without even thinking you went in to help. You weren’t qualified to work in the medical field whatsoever, but you knew you had to help.

When you ran into the med bay injured soldiers were being brought in one after another. Someone saw your jacket that indicated you were a volunteer and in the midst of the chaos assumed you were working in this ward- meaning you had training. They pointed towards the doors and yelled at you to check for anyone else outside.

You immediately followed orders, running outside and seeing different vehicles parked. Running up to them you checked the backs for anyone else, finding one injured soldier left with his side bleeding heavily. When you look around for help there is no one to help found, everyone within the area inside to help.

It was a good walk to the doors, and you knew the keys weren’t in the truck. You huff, opening the back of the truck and pulling him out, taking a deep breath before helping him down. He can barely walk, and even you know you can’t lift him. You try multiple positions to see if you really could lift him, or help him walk, but he was too weak.

You end up settling on hooking your hands under his shoulders, pulling him the best that you could. It was incredibly difficult, and you felt like your shoulders were going to pull out of place. But in the heat of the moment you tugged as hard as you could, simply worried for his safety.

Gaz had just walked outside to get a breath of fresh air when he heard something, looking off to his left. His eyebrows quickly raised when he saw you practically killing yourself trying to lift and pull a man that was way too heavy for you. He quickly ran over, and seeing how distressed you were and the injured soldier he crouched down, picking the guy up himself.

“Fucking hell- what happened?” He says with a grunt as he starts carrying the man inside.

Taking a shaky breath and wiping your eyes, you follow him, opening the doors for him when you reach the building. “I don’t know” is all you can manage to choke out in the heat of the moment.

Once the injured soldier is settled, you look down and find yourself stained with his blood. When you’d tried to pick him up you must’ve gotten it all over you- god and you left a trail on the floor. Before Gaz can come check on you like he intended to, you disappear into a janitors closet, pulling out a mop as you try to clean up the trail of blood you and the soldier had left.

When Gaz sees you frantically trying to clean up the mess, he walks over and puts his hand on your shoulder. “Hey, hey.. you’re alright.” He says softly, gently taking the mop from your hands. “Someone else will do that. Let’s get you taken care of, hm?” He hums comfortingly as he leads you out of the medical ward and to your dorm area.

You sniff softly as he closes the door behind the two of you, helping you out of your blood soaked vest. “I’m sorry” you whisper faintly. “I just- I was scared I couldn’t help him.”

He gently shushes you, turning on the shower in your small bathroom for you. “You did good, love. The best anyone can expect from you.. it was out of your job description, eh?” He smiles softly. “I’ll go get this cleaned for you, alright? Just worry about calming down, I’ll come check on you in a bit.”

He came back maybe an hour later to you all cozied up in a sweatshirt and sweatpants with fluffy socks, hair wet with an apologetic smile on your lips. Taking the now clean vest from him and setting it aside before gently slipping your arms around his neck, hugging him. “Thank you for being gentle with me” you say softly against his shoulder before you pull away.

He left your room with his cheeks slightly flushed, and already head over heels for you. He thought Ghost must’ve been exaggerating at least a little by saying you were the sweetest thing he’d seen- but Gaz knew he was right.

Meeting Captain John Price himself was a bit of a dream for you. You’d always see him in the halls and you couldn’t deny how attractive he was. Of course, all of the boys were attractive- but there was something special about John, with him being older and his thick beard.. he was just so strong and soft at the same time, always offering you a kind smile when you passed each other in the hallway.

The first time you really spoke to each other was right around Valentine’s Day. You’d been there for a few weeks, but with John being so busy you hardly ever saw him. He heard a lot about you though with how much the boys talked. He knew they were all obsessed- even Soap when he hadn’t even had the chance to speak to you one on one yet.

You’d knocked on the door to his office, and when you heard his gruff voice tell you to come in, you gently opened the door and peaked inside. “Captain Price?” You said softly with a shy smile.

The second he heard your voice he quickly looked up, a smile crossing his face. “What can I do ya for?”

Stepping inside and closing his office door behind you, you hold your clipboard to your chest as you speak. “Well- with Valentine’s Day coming up, I wanted to do something sweet for the men.” You smile softly. “I just wanted to ask if you thought they would prefer flowers or chocolates” you chuckle.

His eyes soften as he hears your words, and he can see what his boys meant now. Christ you were soft. Flowers? Chocolates? Who would even think of giving that to a soldier?

“Flowers.” He says firmly. “Can’t ‘ave my boys getting pudgy on me, can I? Got to keep ‘em on their game.”

Smiling sweetly, you nod before politely excusing yourself. When Valentine’s Day rolled around, all of the boys were surprised to find a red rose taped to their door with a little personalized note for each and every one of them. Imagine how annoyed they were when they realized you had to give them to every soldier and not just them?

And last but not least is Soap himself. While you’d seen his goofy antics from afar, you hardly ever truly spoke. Just passing flirts and teases, brief hallway conversations. You’d only ever seen him in an upbeat mood- never truly upset or angry. The first time you see behind the puppy dog facade is surprising to say the least.

You had heard a crash a few doors down from your dorm, and you immediately rushed up- not bothering to put on your binder or even your shoes. Darting down the hallway to find one of the soldiers in their room throwing things and yelling, clearly having some kind of mental break. When you read the name on the door you rack your brain, trying to remember any information you can. That’s when you recall he has PTSD- and he’s probably having an episode.

You were the first one there and without a care for your own safety you opened his door, speaking as gently as you can as if you were talking to a wounded animal. Soap had been a few hallways down coming back from a mission, fully planning on getting a good nights rest. When he saw people running and heard yelling he immediately went on alert, running towards the source.

When he got to the room he saw a higher up on the phone with medical, but no one was doing anything. When he looked inside, his heart stopped when he saw you- how you were putting yourself in danger. You were a few feet away from the soldier, arms out trying to show you weren’t armed.

“Hey- hey, sweetheart you’re okay” you say as comfortingly as you can, the man clearly confused. “Adam- Adam, right? Honey you have to look at me, okay?”

Soap had seen how badly PTSD episodes could end, and the thought of you being in there put him on edge. Without thinking, a higher up rushed into the room, pushing past Soap. Of course, the sudden movement triggered the soldier, sending him into a panic. Since you were the closest person to him, he grabbed you by the neck and shoved you against the wall, yelling at the other men to get back.

The second Soap saw how he touched you, he immediately ran in and rushed the man, shoving him off of you. Gasping when your throat is released, you start to cough heavily, bruises already starting to form on your skin. Before you know it, Soap is fighting the man, throwing a punch before you can grab him and pull him back. As the medical personnel run in and restrain him, you’re left with your arms tightly around Soap’s torso, his back to your chest.

Shaking from the adrenaline of it all, he quickly turns around and pulls you close into his arms. “Fucking Christ lad- never pull that shite again, alrigh’? Gonna get yerself killed.” He says as his voice starts to calm.

Without a second thought he brought you to his room, examining your throat and making sure there weren’t any cuts or scratches. He can see how you’re still shaking, and he sighs softly before moving back onto his bed, motioning for you to follow.

“Won’t try nothin’, eh? Jus’ gotta stop yer shakin’.” He says quietly. Hesitantly moving onto his bed, he pulls you to rest on your side in between his legs, holding you against his chest. “Ya got a big heart lad.” He says softly. “Gotta keep ya safe, yea? Me an’ tha’ boys will do tha’ from now on.”

me while I’m reading my own writing: ‘this is great and all but when do we fu-‘