#ghost x johnny

[ivillpunchyouinthethroat]

Deal(s) with Death

A Ghoap MWIII fix-it based on this tweet:

CW: MCD's but it's not permanent :)

After Soap dies in the tunnel a very distraught Ghost somehow manages to summon death and strike a deal with them. The deal is to swap places, for Death to take Ghost in Soap's place when the time comes. The deal rewinds time too, resets it back to "save ya a seat, Lt."

The catch?

Ghost will remember everything up to Soap’s death and the deal but he won’t be able to change anything leading up to it.

Ghost agrees immediately, time rewinds, and even though Ghost's death is ever approaching, even though he wants nothing more than to finally give in to Soap's blatant flirting, to at least know what Soap's lips feel like against his own before he dies—he can't.

If he alters anything the deal rescinds and Soap will die anyway.

So, Ghost waits for his death and he cherishes the time he has with Soap until then. And even if he can't be anything but Soap's friend, it's worth it.

Soap’s always been worth it.

The day comes, the tunnel comes, and Ghost walks towards his death with a smile on his face.

Ghost is the one who gets shot, a bullet dead center through his forehead, spiderweb cracks fanning all through the mask. He’s dead before his body even hits the concrete.

And this time around Soap is the one who kneels over his body in horrified silence. He's the one who lays a hand on Ghost’s chest and tells him to get up. Whispers it at first and when Ghost continues laying there—blood pooling slowly around his head like a halo—he starts shouting instead, until his voice is hoarse. He's the one Price and Gaz have to drag away because Ghost can't be dead, he can't.

The deal goes through, Soap lives, and all is as it should be.

Except—

Ghost's death is not something Soap will accept. Ever.

So, Soap finds a way to summon death and strike a deal with them. Take Soap in Ghost's place when the time comes.

Death when this angry, depressed Scotsman comes to them and demands the exact same deal that Ghost had demanded:

Death listens to Soap demand for Ghost to be revived, listens as Soap offers his own soul in recompense. Then they explain the deal: time rewinds, Soap won't be able to change anything, he won’t be able to finally tell Ghost he's been in love with him since Las Almas, he'll just get to live with the knowledge of his impending death.

Soap, of course agrees without hesitation.

Death:

So, Death does not grant the deal, what they do instead is summon Ghost's soul up alongside them.

Freshly corporeal Ghost takes one look at Soap standing before Death utters a tiny surprised, "Johnny?" and then assumes that somehow, Death had managed to take Soap anyway.

He rounds on Death angrily, hand reflexively reaching for the a knife that he no longer gets to carry in the underworld and snarls, "This wasn't the deal!"

Soap, who is two seconds away from breaking down over seeing Ghost alive(?), immediately clocks the deal portion of the sentence and his elation immediately turns to suspicion.

"What deal, Ghost?" he asks.

Ghost, who knows that Soap would never be okay with the deal he made:

"What deal, Ghost!" Soap repeats at Ghost’s silence.

"Uh—" Ghost smartly replies, trying to avoid answering the question while also trying to figure out what the hell is happening.

"The exact same deal you just asked for, you angry little man," Death interrupts. Then they point a not quite solid thumb at Ghost. "Only he beat you to it, since you were the one who originally died in the tunnel."

"WHAT!" Soap angrily exclaims and then rounds on Ghost, "You're bloody barmy if you think I'm going to let you die for me!

"You're not letting me do anything MacTavish, it's already done," Ghost retorts.

"Then undo it!" Soap shouts at Death. "I was supposed to die anyway, undo the deal and bring Ghost back!"

"Do not undo the deal!" Ghost also shouts at Death. "And you,” he points at Soap, “stand down Sergeant, that's an order!"

Soap if possible, becomes even more incensed, he stomps up to Ghost and shoves a finger partway through Ghost’s semi-solid chest. "You're in no position to be giving me orders, Lt. Did you forget? YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD!?”

From there they quickly devolve into more arguing, and then just a barrage of insults, and then more arguing.

And Death just stands there, watching these two idiots scream at each other over who gets to die for who until they're red in the face. It's not until they start throwing punches that Death has finally had Enough.

They're getting a headache, they're a primordial being and these two assholes are giving them a headache.

"ENOUGH!" They boom. "Neither of you is dying!"

Death whisks a hand Ghost’s way and Ghost doubles over, hand clutching at his now solid chest, because he can quite literally feel his heart restarting. He can breathe again.

"What—the—fuck?" Ghost wheezes as he collapses onto Soap, who takes his weight and cups his face worriedly with one hand while the other also reaches for a weapon he's not currently carrying.

Death looms over them both.

"I'm giving you two absolute buffoons a second chance and if I see either of you again within the next four decades, it'll be too fucking soon!" They threaten.

Death snaps their fingers and suddenly Ghost and Soap are back in the bloody tunnel right about where the mission went to shit the first two times. Only this time they both remember everything that's happened before.

Ghost and Gaz make it to Soap and Price before it’s too late, and with the benefit of knowing where Makarov is coming from, Soap doesn't get taken by surprise in the first place. Makarov is the one who dies, two bullets through his head, courtesy of both Ghost and Soap.

Afterwards, when the bomb is defused, when everything is finally calm, Ghost and Soap walk off to a corner and Soap looks at Ghost incredulously.

"Did we...seriously annoy Death into giving us a second chance at living?"

"Only you, Johnny." Ghost replies dryly.

"Oi!" Soap responds with a beaming smile, "I wasn't the only one bickering!"

And it clicks for Ghost as he watches Soap throw his head back and laugh, as he watches those vibrant blue eyes crinkle in joy and Soap’s cheeks flush ruddy red with blood circulated by his still pumping heart.

Everything had reset. Soap is alive. They’re both alive. With no conditions.

Which means—

Ghost is done holding back.

He rips his mask off, drags Soap in by the tac vest, and kisses him.

It only takes a second for a stunned Soap to reciprocate. Very enthusiastically.

Ghost pins Soap to the tunnel wall, they’re making out like teenagers, meanwhile, Price and Gaz off to the side:

[hidingwhere]

John Prices wife coming to pick him up at the airport after he returns from a mission, but the car is now full of military men.

One look at the three boys, completely exhausted and pulling their phones out to book a taxi had your heart crying. Without thinking, you offered them all a lift to yours and Johns home for them to stay overnight.

So now there’s three men cramped onto your three backseats, John having the luxury of sitting in the front. Simon is on the end (still in his balaclava but luckily not the skull mask because you’d be a little creeped out seeing that every time in the rear view mirror), Johnny in the middle and then Kyle on the other end. Johnny complains for about 10 minutes that he’s squished in and has no room to move but after that he’s completely zonked out on Simons shoulder.

Your music plays quietly through the speakers and they’re happy to listen to anything that isn’t gun shots or explosions.

Once you arrive home, they all climb out the car, grabbing their bags from the boot and dumping them down in the living room.

“Place looks less lifeless than last time I was here,” comments Johnny.

“Finally got a woman’s touch to it,” adds Kyle.

You smile a little at the non-direct compliment. Price also looks around, noticing the little details that have changed or the things that have been added around his house, keeping a hand on your back. He leans down and kisses you gently, mumbling “I missed you” against your lips.

“I missed you too. But it looks like you’ve lost weight.” You glance down at his body. “I’ll fatten you up again,” you tease with a little giggle as he chuckles.

It’s around 9pm by the time you’ve cooked dinner for four people who have appetites of bears. They all look at you as if you’re an angel sent from heaven when they see the food, sitting down at the dining table silently and scoffing down the meal.

By 10pm, you go into the living room thinking they’re all watching TV but instead they’re all asleep. You grab some spare blankets from beside the sofa and cover them up except for John. You shake him awake and make him move upstairs into bed with you. There’s no way you’re letting him sleep on the sofa and not with you after weeks apart.

[beloveds-embrace]

Imagine 141 moving into a quaint little town post retirement and you’re the only baker in town. You love making sweets, breads, and desserts and own a cute bakery to show for it, know everyone in your town so these four new men who come early morning to try your breakfast deal immediately excite you because- new perspectives and tastes and opinions! It’s become a habit of yours to share bites of whatever new item you plan on adding to the menu, so the more diverse opinions the merrier in your opinion.

And you are glad you didn’t let their demeanor- big gruff men, especially the one with the black surgical mask- scare you away because they are sooo nice, calling you sweetheart, doll, birdie, and bonnie. So many nicknames, it has you blushing the sweetest pink shade. And they are all too happy to help taste-test for you, giving you lots of praise.

(Though you never quite notice their immense disappointment at seeing the little ring on your finger.)

Still, at the very least one of them comes over to your bakery once a day. Sometimes they come together, sometimes only two of them- but they come anyways and tip you every time despite you insisting otherwise. It’s a lovely friendship you build with them. But they do note you never mention your partner much.

Until Simon drops by one day, intent on buying one of your apple pies and maybe fluster you enough to turn the same shade as an apple, and he sees the bruises that peek out just so from your sleeves and the collar of your outfit. Puffy eyes, more makeup than usual, your smile not quite there…

And he understands. He knows this all-too-well. And the fact that it’s happening to an embodiment of sunshine like you? Unfair. Unbelievable. Unacceptable.

Simon gently takes your hands, squeezing them so lightly. “Everything’ll be well, luvie. Promise.” And that’s all he says.

And maybe it’s cruel of you to be happy when you receive a call a few days later, the sherrif of the town telling you your husband was found mauled to death by one of the bears that roam around the woods occasionally, but you just… don’t care.

A week later, when it seems appropriate enough, you open up the bakery again and your smile is blinding as you greet the 141 men and tell them for today, everything’s for free.

part 2

Other works + help me choose a title for this 😩

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

naps to lovers?

price is an accident, you fall asleep watching a movie with him after he cradles you in his bed. plops down with you to do some paperwork and he's out, too. you wake up cuddled into his chest and pretend not to notice his boner.

next it's johnny. you're both exhausted from sparring and workouts. instead of showering, he pulls you to his bed and tells you to wait for him before you get in. by the time you want up, the sheets are crusted with sweat and soap is on top of you, crushing you to the mattress.

after that, it's both johnny and kyle. smooshed between them after a long hard mission, it's hard not to appreciate two nice pillows. simon has the picture of you three asleep on each other.

kyle finds you in the mess hall after, pulling you to your room with the promise of takeout and uninterrupted rest.

simon is standoffish at first, but eventually offers himself up as a weighted blanket for you after being reprimanded by another force's captain (don't worry, price and gaz are handling it). he lets you hold him close while stroking your hair and face until you drift off. he frequents in odd hours with you (when he knows your alone or stacked up with another one of the boys).

you don't mean for it to, but it becomes much more regular. price pulling you into his lap during late night briefings, soap's head in your lap, and kyle following you back to your room. they get so much more casually affectionate- hands on you at all times, forehead kisses, and sweet words. they begin to take you out together after missions and on off days to movies and shopping (they love dressing you up).

this all builds up to a random friday where they bring you to a house about 30 minutes from base. lately, they'd all been a bit more secretive and making investments "for the wellbeing of the team" like price's new truck that could seat 7. the house has all five of yours stuff in it (ash trays, half finished sketches, sewing kits, kyle's hat on the table). you see some of your missing clothes in one of the big dressers half-opened drawers.

it shouldn't be a surprise to you then when you walk in the bedroom and there's a california king. you really should have expected it, hen, they've been courting you for months!

yeah, johnny's naked on the bed, so what?

[devil-in-hiding]

pregnant!assistant reader who suddenly finds her boss and his team moving into her home, Price immediately upping the security system and locks around the house

Simon starts on the nursery, letting you sit in the nice big rocking chair you picked out, bossing him around on how you want the walls painted

Kyle and Johnny start working on baby proofing until your house is the safest place a baby could be, and you still had 7 months till they were here

Kyle would be the most willing to go out to the shops when late night cravings hit, it also makes him your favorite for the next 24 hours because “he was sweet enough to go get my pickles!”

“pretty you have two other jars-“

“i wanted SPICY pickles John!”

however these men are total messes when it comes to the hormones, the first time you burst into tears, crying about “simon raising his voice at you”, all he had done was scold you for trying to use the stepladder

[writersdrug]

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish is the kind of dad who throws your kids around for fun, tossing them into the air and catching them just to hear their infectious laughter, ignoring the worrisome protests that you call out from the kitchen when they get a little too high.

Captain John Price is the kind of dad who convinces your children to ask you for pizza for dinner, acting all surprised when you tell him to call the local pizza place, eyebrows rising with "What's the occasion?" despite the obvious grin that his plan worked. You aren't fooled.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is the kind of dad who chases your kids around with a nerf gun, relentlessly pelting them with styrofoam bullets and ganging up on your oldest son with your youngest daughter. Waits behind the front door for your son to get home from school and immediately fires on him.

Simon "Ghost" Riley is the kind of dad who holds your toddlers like footballs, your daughter tucked sideways under his arm and dangling your son by his ankle. "Found these mice sniffin' 'round the cookie tin." He says with a deadpan expression, but you don't miss the way his mouth twitches when they giggle and shriek.

[aary-soap]

he wants that cookie so damn bad

[kkusuka]

i want captain john price to fuck me so well that the entire med-bay can feel it. thinking about patching him up then getting my guts rearranged as a thank you.

you aren’t even a soldier- just a medic who happened to be around when 141 needed help. patching up their captain was more than nerve wrecking- his lieutenant and two sergeants looming over you asking about his status. but john could care less about his team at the moment— you looked like an angel. patching him up so sweetly, so mindful of how he was feeling.

and if anything, john price likes to keep his scores even- you help him out he helps you out.

“so good f’me, love. always so good” and you look just as good as he first saw you; lip between your teeth, unwilling to let too many people know how good his cock feels pounding into you. “patchn’ me up so well, takin’ my cock like you were made f’it”

and the captain would be damned if someone tried to take you from his team; you’re too good to them to go anywhere. he knows they know what happens after you patch him up, and he knows you’d do the same for any of them too- they just need a little push on the right direction!

[notquitecanon]

Search History // Poly!141 x Reader

A continuation of this thought

Summary: Reader (based loosely on Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds) has to be face-to-face with the boys for the first time since they started including her in their late-night fantasies. They've decided it's time to take it off-screen and move in IRL.

I'm taggin the peeps who replied to the last part bc I'm desperate for attention lol (in all actuality y'all really encouraged me to actually write thank you!!)

CW: allusions to porn, allusions to female genitalia, they're all horny in the workplace, this is basically workplace harassment but we're excusing it because they're hot and fictional and I say so, no outright smut

Still nsfw though so MDNI pls and thanks

“The 141 just touched down. ETA twenty minutes.” 

Your eyes flicked up from the muted video on your monitor, cheeks flushed red but masked by the light radiating off your screen in your dark office. Thank God, your monitor faced away from the door. A young private was standing in the doorway with a tablet, looking at you for an acknowledgment, probably running about starting preparations for their arrival back on home base. 

“Thank you, private.” You murmured, teeth toying at your thumbnail, chipping the polish. The young soldier gave a short nod at the quiet dismissal and disappeared once again. Your eyes, with embarrassingly blown pupils, flicked back to the video. 

After your discovery two weeks ago, the sites and links you had to review furthered down the rabbit hole. And this video you were currently watching had been one that all the men had been visiting, and revisiting, and revisiting… 

By god, they’d done it. 

Similar build, skin tone only a shade or two different - you could probably share foundation and it wouldn’t look too bad. Hair and eye color so close it was uncanny. And when the woman looked over her shoulder at the mountain of a man hitting it from the back, the angle made the resemblance almost scarily uncanny.  The Had you had a porn career and simply forgotten?- kind of uncanny. 

Sure there were differences- she was a little taller, maybe a bit leaner, with boobs that had definitely had some work done. Tattoos where your skin was bare and vice versa, different piercings. Her voice was pitched different, and her accent was completely different from yours but within three minutes of the video she’d stopped speaking words, so accent didn’t matter much.  But as far as porn actresses went- she might as well be your twin. 

It seemed the 141 had perused her entire.. filmography. Different videos, different scenarios, different partners. They all had videos they seemed to like better than others. Soap seemed to particularly like the POV video where the man had a thick Scottish accent. Gaz had bookmarked a soft-core bondage and forced orgasm scene. Price, a shorter video of an unseen man pushing the actress under a desk for oral, and Ghost… the only link he’d visited was your instagram. It was hard not to let it stroke your ego a little bit. 

God, if you told anyone about this… They’d tell you to file a workplace harassment suit, and maybe a police report.  To start job hunting, and therapist hunting. Distance yourself. You should have been embarrassed or uncomfortable- you knew you should be. That you should feel objectified or disrespected, disgusted. 

But hell, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t send yourself the links and watched them in your free time at home. It was hot- turned you on in an almost concerning way that would set feminism back twenty years if you told anyone. 

The video kept playing on your monitor, one of the videos that Soap had visited more than once (little did you know it was one that Ghost had picked out). A gloved hand smoothly glided down the actress's spine before curving around her throat and pulling her upright on the man’s lap, filthy praises in a British accent playing through your single AirPod. 

“Holy shit…”  You muttered, thighs clenching because if you squinted it really did look like you, even some of her mannerisms. And the rough accent was like a mix of Ghost's and Price’s. 

Abruptly, you shut down the entire monitor completely, ripping out the AirPod and tossing it on the desk. Pressing slightly shaking hands to your too hot face. You needed to get it together, because Price was your boss and the others were your superiors. They’d been gone for a month and a half, and it’d been your voice in their ears guiding them through missions, and you knew you had a flirty disposition, especially from the private safety of your dark little office half way across the world. 

It made sense that their wires got a little crossed, but your wires- like those off all your monitors and hardware- needed to stay neatly organized and separate. Focus. Focus. 

Your nails were bitten to the quick, the bitter taste of old nail polish on the back of your tongue. The skin around your nails was raw from your teeth toying with it as your so intensely focussed on the videos. You needed to get out of this too small, too hot room.  Which is how you found yourself, twenty minutes later, in the communal break room fighting with the vending machine. It was withholding the ice cold water you were desperate for, despite your curses and attempts to jostle the machine. Right as you delivered a frustrated kick to the machine-

“Just the bird we were looking for!” 

It was Kyle’s voice first, that tipped you off to the herd of men entering the space. You almost jumped out of your skin- brain flitting through several scandalous snippets of the videos he’d replayed. His smile was dazzling as always as he came into view, tapping the yellow warning stickers that instructed people not to jostle the machine, with the little illustration of the stick man getting crushed, “What’d the machine ever do to you? It might start fighting back.” 

A gloved hand reached between the two of you, skeleton fingers curled into a fist that delivered a blunt strike, and, like magic, the water bottle fell in to the receptacle. You peeked over your shoulder at Ghost, standing just slightly too close and looking down at you intensely, but not meanly. An easy to miss bit of mirth that was usually reserved for Soap. Thank god you’d bitten your nails to stubs or they would’ve drawn blood from how they were digging into your palms to distract you from the gloved hands and the brutish display of strength. 

Kyle put the drink sweetly in your hands after cracking it for you, like he would do when bringing Ghost or Price something, eyes twinkling like he knew something you didn’t.  Another hand, warm and large clapped gently on your shoulder, pulling you back a step, almost directly into Captain Price’s chest. 

The men shared a look over your head before focussing back on you. 

“Your intel was good.” It was a simple statement, but delivered in a warm, proud tone that felt so much like praise that your stomach flipped a bit, with that warm smile that made him look soft despite the fact he was still in full tac-gear, “They didn’t even see us coming.” 

“They never see you coming, that’s kind of your whole thing.” You tried a joke, your voice a touch strained. His hand was lingering, right on the curve where your shoulder became your neck, fingers flexing into the flesh just so. Just like it did on the boys when he thought others wouldn’t noticed. focus, focus, focus. 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, it was Soap that interrupted the kneading of Price’s fingers. 

“Don’t be so modest, bonnie!” He was laughing as large arms caught you around the waist, lifting and spinning you slightly. His voice so similar to that one Scottish co-star that had done such filthy things to your lookalike, it made your head spin.  Despite your startled yelp and squirming, his grip didn’t waver, “Couldn’t of done it without our lass in the chair.” 

“ ’nough, Johnny,” Ghost called firmly, leaning against the vending machine that they’d all but cornered you against, “Put ‘er down.” 

Soap’s laugh was still good natured as he set you on your feet again, a little roughly for the heels you had on to match your skirt, you wobbled only for Ghost himself to steady you, giving you another intense look, that you had trouble meeting, “ 'e’s right though. Intel was good.” 

They were all staring at you, varying degrees of smirks, eyes a spectrum of mischief and something that was dizzyingly close to hunger.  Unable to keep still, you were squirming, shifting your weigh from foot to foot, fiddling with the wrapper on the bottle. You found your eyes flitting around settling anywhere but their own gaze, cheeks feeling hot, mind full of vile images that you knew they’d seen and enjoyed- ceiling, the exit sign, Johnny’s tac-vest, the floor, the water bottle in your hands. You gulped, eyebrows raising as you puffed a breath, trying desperately to reign yourself in.

“Glad to be of service.” You smiled tightly, nodding meeting each set of eyes briefly and hoping your foundation masked your blush (it didn’t). Jesus Christ, you couldn’t do this.  You couldn’t tell if you felt turned on or awkward or both, but you needed to go. Preferably before you did something that would cost you your job. Your voice was rushed as you squeezed between Gaz and Price, double timing it to the exit, “Enjoy your leave, boys, you deserve it.” 

As you all but fled the building, you typed out a mass base-wide memo email, language formal as you professionally reminded every soldier, specifically four of them, that any website visited by government devices was subject to internal review. 

You swore you could hear them laughing as the memo went out. But maybe that was just your overactive imagination. 

____

You’d gone home for the evening, and then clocked back in the following morning. Surprised to find all of the 141 was still there, debriefing must have ran long. 

“Morning, love.” It was Kyle that greeted you, pressing a cup of coffee into your hands. He looked tired but happy to see you. Soap was with him, eyes bright and grin wide as he whistled lowly, fingers tugging at the hem of your skirt as you passed his seat. 

“Looking good, bonnie,” He smiled devilishly, rubbing the fabric between his fingers before letting go, “Tired of all the green, black, and beige tac gear. Missed seeing something a little… softer.”  

You somewhat doubted that. He seemed to appreciate military khaki when it hugged Gaz’s ass, and he sure didn’t seem to mind an all black tactical ensemble when it was on Ghost. But the compliment still brought heat up your neck, which you coupled with a sip of the hot coffee Gaz had brought you- fixed perfectly the way you liked it. It elicited a pleased sigh as you swallowed, humming in content. 

“Price wants to see you before we all leave. Brought you some new stuff to work on.” Kyle smiled, watching how your expression softened at the taste of the beverage, clearly proud of himself for drawing out that reaction.   

“A present? For me?” You smiled sarcastically back at the prospect of more work added to you caseload, “It’s like Christmas.” 

“You been good this year?” Kyle grinned back, accompanied by Soap chiming, voice low and chiding, “Nah, she’s definitely been naughty.” 

Both Sergeant’s shared a look as you almost choked on another sip of coffee. 

“I’m leaving now.” You shook your head, turning on your heel away from where they were hanging around the rec room, clearly waiting for Price to dismiss them, “Y���all should shower. Or take a nap.” 

“You want us naked?” Kyle questioned, raising his eyebrows at you, leaning back against the wall, standing so very close to Soap, who was sprawled out in his chair, long legs splayed and spread before him as he waggled his eyebrows. “And in bed?” 

Now that was some imagery. Taking the lord’s name in vain you didn’t dignify that with a response other than a huffed, “Leaving now.” 

____

The good thing about Price and Ghost was they were business first. So if you really focussed you could almost ignore Ghost's thigh pressed against yours as you sat beside him in the dark room, reviewing body cam footage. They pointed out different things to you, things to include as you started your next dark web deep dive. 

You could almost ignore how Price’s fingers grazed and lingered on your palm as he gave you a thumb drive to decrypt and analyze, how he stood close enough to you that you had to look at him through your lashes. 

“Has a self destruct program that Gaz didn’t want t' aggravate. Figured it needed your... soft touch.” Price smiled down at you as you curled your fingers around the thumb drive. You had to try pretty hard to ignore the slight emphasis on soft. Ghost seemed to chuckle lowly at your expression at the captain. 

“What’s on there'll point us in the next direction of our next target.” Ghost nodded to you, his leg shifting so it pressed harder against yours. In the guise of stretching out, he’d draped an arm over the back of your chair, the cotton of his gloves half tickling the sensitive skin on the back of your bicep, where the flesh was soft. 

“So don’t screw it up, got it.” You swallowed thickly, shifting so you couldn’t feel his thumb against your skin- it was making it hard to think about hacking and terrorism and military operations.  He took it as an invitation to spread out more, his fingers grazing the exact spot only seconds later. 

“Precisely,” John laughed lowly, his hand moved to your shoulder, back into that sweet curve that was partly your shoulder and partly your neck, and gave it a lingering squeeze, that kind of made you want to melt, “You won’t screw it up, love.” 

The captain gave his Lieutenant a nod, and Ghost quickly stood, his boot giving the toe of your pretty heels a slight nudge as a goodbye before silently stalking out. Price took a seat across from you, leaning back and his arms cross comfortably over his chest.

“I’m having the boys over at mine tonight. A couple of drinks, I’m gonna grill, put the footie on, celebrate another successful mission to start our leave.” Price listed out their plans casually, noting how you squirmed a bit, uncrossing and recrossing your legs as you tugged at the hem of your skirt before continuing, “We want you to come. Couldn’t have done it without you, so you should celebrate it too.” 

“Oh, uh-“ You started before you could think of a good excuse, “I’ll be really busy… with.. with the flash drive. And stuff.” 

“What stuff?” Price rose a single brow, his stare pinning you still as he reached across the table and took the flash drive back, “This can wait.” 

“Files. Coding. Security checks.” You mumbled the first couple aspects of your job that came to mind, the intensity of his gaze making you want to adjust your collar or shrink in your seat. You figured you’d have a couple more sites to clear off their devices, if they’d been sitting around base all night. Your cheeks heated just at the thought. “I’m a little behind. Been… distracted lately."

“Everything all right, love?” He ‘asked’ with at signature warm smile and amused eyes, he seemed to already know the answer to his question, “You’ve been… skittish, since we got back.” 

Your teeth worried the seam of your lips as you considered the question. Skittish, was one way to put it- fidgety, fleeing rooms, avoiding eye contact, barely speaking as opposed to your usual chatter and banter. Your eyes flitted away from his gaze again, swallowing dryly again- geez when did you get so shy, “ ‘m fine. Absolutely fine. Never been better. How’re you?” 

Cringing at your own rambling, you sighed shoulders drooping as he fixed you with another look, and muttered your name in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. It was a look that expected obedience, as his legs shifted into a natural man spread. Your brain flitted back to the video of your look alike being shoved under a desk… 

Him saying your name again, slightly louder but just as bemused drew you back to him, realizing you were staring at his legs, debating if you could fit between his knees and you almost sputtered as you cleared your throat, “I’m fine, really.” 

“Either lie more convincingly or tell me what’s bothering you, sweet.”  Price chuckled, leaving forward against the table, drumming a knuckle against the table. Sweet, that was new. You’d have to add it to the laundry list of nicknames and pet names the boys had for you. You’d always told yourself that it was nothing personal, that British/Scottish people just did that. But this on wasn’t as easy to write off as ‘love’ or ‘bonnie’, average pet names in the UK colloquial, no sweet seemed personal. 

“I’m not bothered.” You glanced away again, nose wrinkling, even though you were bothered-��hot and bothered. John Price had a way of drawing details out of people with just a look and a couple of well prodded words.  With a deep breath, you tried to keep your characteristic rambling to a minimum, a losing battle as he starting stroking at his beard with those long fingers- two parts of him that you’d been thinking about way too much lately-, “Listen, I’m not judging, you’re grown men, watch what you want to, but just a reminder that it’s my job and obligation to review every link and site that government devices visit. Which includes at least skimming videos.  In case you didn’t know or maybe forgot that I can and do see these things, so maybe you could pass that along to the boys-“ 

“You can tell 'em yourself. ’s your job, sweet.” Price said firmly. The girlish part of your brain corrected ‘firmly’ to dominantly. Before his demeanor relaxed again, giving you an amused, appraising look again, “At my place. Tonight. 8 o’clock. Not a request.” Shrinking in your chair a bit, hoping the chair hid the way your thighs involuntarily clenched, you couldn’t help but nod and squeak, “Yes, sir.” 

___

Part Two

Was supposed to have actually smut in this but I got carried away on the build-up, laugh out loud. Maybe a part three or you can just imagine how the little dinner party goes (hint, she's the meal)

Tags: @fruitymoonbeams-blog @viviennevianna @savas-q1 @cringeycookies @lainey-laines @buttercup337 @acosmisted @carqueensworld @tmartin0918 @dreamland08 @sheepdogchick @hidden-wildflowers @lilynotdilly @astrxsee @joopyjup @originalsoulcollector @henhouse-horrors @ohdrey89 @red5tars @cod-z @balletbiscuit @spacecrawllerr @scrumptioussportstoadgarden-blog @blues-of-neptune @monster-effer @yunho-leeknow @ungodlydilf @pluviofleur @jandthecrow @fangtoothgod @coquetterie-dancer @sapphires-and-silver-things @ghost-is-my-bbg @loveergirll @silly-starfish @popkle @honestlymassivetrash @not-mentally-sane @devoetee @beloveds-embrace @jellyamour @simon141price @divinecat

[void-my-warranty]

Simon Riley is the type to mutter, “Suit yourself,” when you ask him if you can call him something cute.

You could call him Shithead all day, for all he cares. It wouldn’t dent that invisible iron door in his chest, because he doesn’t give a shit what you say or don’t say about him, what you like or don’t like. He’s his own island, he doesn’t need your good opinion or anyone else’s.

But what he doesn’t know about you, is that you’re fucking annoying. It starts soft as little “baby”s and “sweetie”s, and of course he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. Just the usual puppy love bullshit, it’ll wear off.

But then you start slipping in the “my favorite person in the whole world”s and the “precious thing”s, and he’s narrowing his eyes a little, growing uncomfortable with how that settles something stuffy in his lungs. It’s a little too far for his liking, but he did say you could call him anything. And he is, well, incredibly competitive. So he decides he can take it.

“Delicious lil guy,” you whisper into his neck after you’ve given him a good chomp.

“Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” you sigh, running your hands through his wet hair after a shower.

“Sweet little baby cupcake,” you mumble when he wraps himself after you after getting home from work past midnight.

All heartfelt and honest, and unfortunately for him, stone cold sober.

“Have you seen me?” he finally demands one night, after you’ve kissed all over his face and told him how perfect it is.

You frown down at him, a little confused. “…yes?”

“I’ve got— fucking—“ he makes a gesture with his hand, indicating his face.

You narrow your eyes and really squint, trying to figure out what he’s getting at.

“Scars,” he finally huffs.

“Oh, yeah.” You smile down at him, tracing the history of violence with your eyes. “I forgot about those.”

“You forgot?”

“I haven’t really noticed them since like the first few weeks. Aren’t brains funny?”

Puppy love, he reminds himself, as you settle into his arms and sigh happily. This slicing pain in his chest and the burning in his eyes… this is puppy love. It’s totally normal to feel like he’d rather throw himself off a building than see you hurt. It doesn’t matter that he spends his time before falling asleep just thinking about you, inventing new ways to make your life better in any way he can conceive.

That’s normal. Right?

Chronological Read-Through Path

[ivillpunchyouinthethroat]

A Feast for Death

Fandom: Call of Duty

Ships: Ghost/Soap

Drabble Prompt: "You're late"

“You’re late,” Death says as he walks through the writhing shadows at the end of the alley.

“Not even a greeting, Ghost?” Soap teases. “Here I thought I was your favorite reaper.”

Ghost stares impassively through the pitch-black eyeholes of his skull mask.

“You have my harvest?”

Soap walks towards Ghost and doesn’t miss the way the shadows at his feet immediately reach for him.

“Always,” Soap says and then presses his lips to Ghost’s.

Shadows cling tightly to Soap and his toes curl with the heady rush that is Death absorbing all the souls he’d lovingly reaped for him.

@ficwip drabble challenge!

[luvbabydoll]

— under their noses — chapter one

a series by © luvbabydoll — inspired by @goatgoesmbe

you never intended to start an only fans.

but between nursing school, grueling shifts, and bills that refused to pay themselves, you had to get creative. and what started as a desperate attempt to make ends meet quickly turned into a steady income.

the men on their seemed to like you. they liked your voice, the softness in your tone, the way you spoke like you meant it. you never showed your full face, but that only added to the mystery. you played into it—the sweet, teasing persona, the gentle praise, the intimacy that kept men coming back for more.

and, completely unknowingly, the entirety of Task Force 141 had fallen for you.

—

it had all started months ago.

one of their missions had gone sideways—bad intel, long hours, more bodies than they were expecting. and by the time they got back to base, exhausted and strung out, all they wanted was food, alcohol, and sleep.

but mostly alcohol.

soap was the first to bring it up.

slumped against a crate, half a bottle of whiskey deep, he let out a groan and muttered, “boys, i think i’m in love.”

gaz snorted, kicking his boots up on the table. “oh, yeah? you have some girl we don’t know about?”

“angel.”

ghost, who had been silently nursing his drink, stiffened.

gaz raised an eyebrow, “angel…?”

soap pulled out his phone and waved it lazily. “she’s some onlyfans girl, mate. best thing that i ever stumbled upon. swear to god, she cares about me.”

gaz laughed. “you are down horrendous, johnny boy.”

“oi, don’t judge me ‘til you’ve heard her. this girl is unreal. always saying the nicest things.” soap sighed dramatically.

gaz rolled his eyes. “yeah, mate. ‘cause she’s getting paid to do that.”

“so? it still counts for me.”

gaz held out a hand. “alright alright, lemme see.”

soap hesitated for a moment. “...fine. but don’t be weird about it.”

gaz took the phone, tapped through a few of the videos, and went silent.

after a moment, he muttered, “okay, shit. you might be onto something.”

soap smirked miraculously. “told you.”

ghost, who had been quietly brooding, finally spoke. “you idiots just now finding out about her?”

they both turned to look at him shocked.

gaz blinked. “w-wait, what?”

ghost took a sip of his whiskey, deadpan. “i’ve been subscribed for months.”

soap choked on his drink. “YOU WHAT?”

ghost shrugged carelessly. “found her first.”

gaz’s jaw dropped. “y-you mean to tell me you—simon ‘i hate everyone’ riley—has been secretly been subscribed to an onlyfans girl this whole time?”

ghost didn’t answer. he just took another sip of his whiskey.

soap stared at him, with a look of betrayal that you see in movies. “and you didn’t tell us?”

ghost gave him a flat look. “why the fuck would i tell you?”

soap pointed aggressively. “you gatekeeping bastard.”

gaz shook his head in amusement. “price is gonna lose his shit when he finds out.”

“Finds out what?”

the three of them turned to see price walking in, looking mildly suspicious.

for a moment, nobody spoke.

and then, without missing a beat, gaz held out the phone. “cap. you gotta see this.”

and that’s how, in the span of one drunken night, every single one of them became your most loyal subscribers.

—

and then you arrived.

your first day on base was nothing special—standard introductions, paperwork, getting settled.

well for you, at least.

but for them? it was a nightmare.

soap noticed it at first.

your voice—was way too familiar. too exact. the way you spoke, the soft warmth in your tone. it sent a shiver down his spine.

gaz eventually picked up on the way you moved—the tilt of your head, the way your fingers ghosted over their skin during check-ups.

ghost, who was normally unreadable, was tense.

and price? price just sighed a lot.

none of them said anything. they couldn’t.

because if they were wrong—if this was just some wild coincidence—then they’d look like absolute idiots.

but if they were right?

then their sweet, soft-spoken angel had just walked into their lives, completely unaware that every single one of them had been on their knees for her voice alone.

and fuck, they were not prepared for that.

[readwritealldayallnight]

Something something you’ve been seeing this new guy for a few weeks now, sparks aren’t flying between you two but he’s hot, pays for your drinks, only mostly stares at your tits when you’re talking, and best of all he consistently fucks your brains out at the end of each date, so you’re in no rush to break things off yet

Something something he asks you out on another date but says his car is stuck in the shop for a while, asks if you wouldn’t mind being a ‘real bonnie lass’ and picking him up from work, swearing up and down that he’ll make it worth your while in bed tonight

Something something you’re surprised when the address he gave you is a well fortified military base, unable to recall if he’d ever mentioned what his job was in the first place, but visions of his mohawk between your legs tonight silences any apprehension as you pull through the gates

Something something you shoot him a text from your car to let him know that you’re here, but the reception is shoddy and you end up walking around a bit in hopes of finding better connection so the message can go through

Something something you’re focused on your phone screen, smiling to yourself when you finally see the text become delivered, hardly noticing when you walk into a brick wall of a man, dropping your phone to the ground

Something something you both bend down to pick it up at the same time, hands connecting and instant sparks flying through your fingers, letting out a genuine laugh when you end up knocking your forehead against his and falling on your butt

Something something the tall, masked stranger offers you a hand up, never letting go of you as you start talking, the two of you hitting it off instantaneously, hardly paying attention to the sky around you steadily growing darker and darker, each word slipping past his lips in that deep, gravelly Manchester accent of his has you forgetting why you were here in the first place, until he asks

Something something, you explain you’re here to pick up a friend for what’s supposed to be a fourth or fifth date, though you don’t see things going much further, especially now that mister tall, dark and handsome is standing before you, a vision plucked straight out of your wildest fantasies brought to life

Something something, Johnny finally looks away from the recruits long enough to see to see your text, unaware that his plan to show you off as his newest sweet piece of ass to his mates has quickly turned into his Lieutenant stealing his girl right out from under his nose

[skyrigel]

Simon: Truth or dare ?

Y/n: Truth.

Simon: I dare you to kiss me now.

Y/n *getting up*: FINE !

Johnny: Is it just me who heard truth...no one else ?

[villifx]

how the task force 141 men react to you complaining about your job (f!reader) ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

simon doesn't even blink as you throw your head into his lap, eyes still focused on the television while his hand subconsciously moves to smooth your hair.

"jus' quit."

you pause in the midst of your whining, staring up at him like he'd just grown a second head. "what?"

simon shrugs. "makin' enough."

"i... i can't quit my job, simon."

his eyebrows twitch up a bit, indifferent. "up to you, love."

you pause, considering. "well..."

johnny doubles down. not only does he tell you to quit immediately, he also throws in that the military will pay him extra if you two get married.

mind you, johnny already rates BAH and has been making it since before you two got together. there won't really be any change to his pay besides separation pay when he's gone for more than a month. however, this is his opportunity to gauge your reaction to the idea of marriage, and he's taking it.

kyle. sweet, sweet kyle. he doesn't tell you to quit. not because he wouldn't support you financially - he absolutely would - but because he knows how important it can be for a woman to have a sense of independence. he also worries about how you'll handle the potential isolation if he's away for an extended period of time and you don't have a job to occupy your time. also, he's happy to pay the bills, but if you're working then you can afford all of the pretty things you want and deserve!

john? john price? ... funny of you to think that you're working while you're with that man, lol.

note: was bored and wrote this in like 10 mins. just had to be done lol. BAH is Basic Allowance for Housing in the American military (i'm not super familiar with british military allowances so using BAH for easy fic purposes lmao) - lower ranking enlisted military that are married can get it or single qualified enlisted (usually ranked sergeant and above) can be approved for it. it's extra pay that you receive to live off-base to cover housing expenses calculated by average cost of rent in the area and family size!

[metallictastinglifesupportliquid]

Roach: Hey, wanna see something funny? Y/N: Um, ok? Roach: Say ow Y/N: Ow? *2 seconds later* Ghost, Price, Gaz, Soap, busting the door down: Y/N? WHAT HAPPENED? ARE YOU HURT? WHO DO WE NEED TO STAB?