#john price is a dad

[snootlestheangel]

The Gaz/Soap Bromance

Y'all, I am 100% convinced that these two have like the best bromance in history.

Part of it is I believe Soap is super physically affectionate with the people he's closest to, and Gaz is one of them, as well as the one willing to put up with the most affection. Gaz just knows he's a target when he's laying on the couch. Price jokingly tells him to get a blanket with a target on it so Soap would know where to lay. Gaz is just chilling, talking to someone? Soap is there, leaning against him, sitting too close, etc. etc. I keep seeing a thing going around with Soap (platonically) kissing the 141 members and friends (if y'all know where/who started this please let me know), and I'm just thinking about Soap and Gaz being Like That. Just constantly "flirting" with each other, just lil smooches here and there, so many hugs that last a little longer than deemed appropriate.

Gaz knows how to comfort Soap when he's experiencing ~issues~ with the ADHD (I don't have it, but I am autistic and I've seen many things that ADHD people struggle with that I can relate to). Gaz just knows how to help him with boredom, how to help him with overstimulation, how to make sure he takes care of himself when he's having bad days, etc. They almost always do their workouts together, spotting for the other, and keeping each other company. They're almost never apart, even doing the most mundane tasks. Gaz can be cleaning his rifle and Soap is sitting on the table, rambling about something his mom told him the last time he called her.

It gets to the point that people think they're a couple, and Gaz panics when he hears that. Ghost and Soap are together, and it's not like they are trying to hide it, it's just Ghost is emotionally constipated and doesn't know how to show affection, especially in the presence of people he's not familiar with (aka the recruits). Soap, Gaz, and Price all know when he's being affectionate towards Soap because they know he doesn't show it the same way. Yeah, Soap is still physically affectionate towards him, but he also understands that Ghost has boundaries and doesn't like being touched that much (he does, just not in public if you catch my drift ;) teehee). He suddenly distances himself from Soap, who has a breakdown over it. I mean, that's his best friend! What did he do wrong? Ghost has to convince him it's not his fault, blah blah blah, and when Soap finally calms down enough to fall asleep, Ghost is hunting Gaz down.

Not because he suddenly became distant towards Soap. At least, not in the way you might think. He is going to berate Gaz for this, but not because "That's not how you should react to the rumors about you and Soap. You really hurt Soap, how could you do that?". NO, that's not AT ALL how Ghost reacts. Ghost is instead so distraught, not for Soap, but for Gaz. He knows how important Gaz's friendship is to Soap, and vice versa. He and Gaz have never really talked about Ghost and Soap being together, and Ghost is scared that Gaz has always been expecting Ghost to try and cut Gaz out of Soap's life.

But instead, Ghost apologizes. He apologizes on behalf of the dumb recruits that started the rumor. He apologizes on behalf of himself and Price for not putting a stop to it sooner. But most importantly, he apologizes as Soap's lover. He's sorry that Gaz felt Ghost would want him gone, but it can't be further from the truth.

"I need you in my life as much as Soap does. You have been there for him when I can't be, you match his energy when no one else can. You keep him grounded without making him feel like a burden. He needs you despite having me. I can't replace what the two of you have, that's not my relationship with him. I'm there as his lover, you're there as his brother. And I need you because I can walk away from base to go on mission without him and not be scared. Not be afraid that something's going to happen to my Johnny while I'm gone. I can feel safe leaving him behind because I know he's safe with you. I know he's got someone that loves him and will lay down their life for him. Johnny is not just for me to love, his heart's too big for just me." -Ghost when he finally catches Gaz.

Gaz and Ghost being fiercely protective of Soap after that. Gaz and Soap continue being themselves, safe and comfortable, while Ghost watches with a smile behind his mask. Gaz shuts down every accusation that he and Soap are together, fiercely defending the idea that men can be vulnerable with someone and not have to be sleeping with them. He defends their friendship by pointing out all the shit they've been through together, how they're a family Gaz has never had.

And maybe, yeah, Ghost gets a bit more possessive of his Johnny, and maybe it's encouraged by Gaz. And maybe, just maybe, Soap feels so incredibly safe to hug and love on the people in his life for the first time in a really long time.

And Soap is content. He's got the greatest friend a man could ask for, the most incredible lover anyone could desire, and a good family.

And Gaz is happy. He only wants the best for Soap at all costs, and seeing him being joyful because of Ghost gives him so much satisfaction, like he's finally done something right with his life.

And Ghost is at peace. He has someone to hold when it's dark out and the demons in his head are getting to be too much. He's got this radiant bolt of energy at his side. But he also can rest easy knowing that Johnny, his Johnny, is safe and happy. He's safe with or without Ghost on base because he's got Gaz. Ghost has another person he'd give his life for if that meant he could guarantee Soap's safety.

And Price? Price is just happy his boys are getting along. That is, until Soap and Gaz drag Ghost into their shenanigans and leave Price graying faster than he should.

[loudblonde]

Whumptober day 4: The sky isn't red

warning: This is about experiencing rather intrusive hallucinations and how ones reality can be distorted

AN: : these are in fact based on my own experience with stress-related psychosis. This story is not entirely accurate as to what everyone may experience or what life is like for someone with schizophrenia. This is more of a view of what my life was like at the worst point of my active psychosis and how having people around who are understanding and not fearful is a good thing. This is not a story villainising us folk who do have it. All of these experiences, besides the second last hallucination is in fact things I myself have experienced

word count: 2.1 K

(Y/N) looked outside the window and down at the treeline. The black-eyed children were being creepy again though they did just that, being creepy, nothing else. Not like what the younger him had experienced with the ‘Evil man outside’, a rather horrible hallucination that he hated having. He regretted getting into horror stories early on, though who could know that his abuse would lead to a psychic break where he developed psychosis? Not him. Nor his family.

He drummed on the window still before looking up into the sky. Not red. Good. He could manage as long as that did not happen.

With a slight hum he walked downstairs while ignoring the sense of dread kicking at the back of his head. “Keep logical.” He muttered to himself.

“Voices bad again?” John Price, (Y/N)’s father, asked.

(Y/N) shook his head. “The sky isn’t red.”

“Ooo, that is good. I made you breakfast, its in the red sealed container inside the microwave.” Price said.

(Y/N) smiled and picked up the box and sat down. He opened it and looked at eggs and lentils. Safe foods. “Thanks dad.” He said. He poked at the food, exanimating it over and over again. His fork gently pried apart the egg proteins so he could see whether it was really egg or something else.

Feeling satisfied with the initial look he took a test bite. He chewed a bit, then chewed some more and a bit more before swallowing. He smiled. “The eggs are good, dad.” He said.

Price chuckled. “Thanks, I am glad you like them.”

“I like them a lot.” (Y/N) said and kept eating, though every bite held a bit of hesitance as he tasted it all to ensure that it was eggs and not something else. He could only handle so much of his… hallucinations.

(Y/N) parked his bag and got dressed in school uniform. He looked into the mirror as he tied his tie. A sense of dread came from the corner. He just fully turned to the corner and starred. “Will you stop that?” He asked with a low sigh. “I am trying to get ready for school, don’t get me all paranoid already. There is plenty of time in the day.” The darkness seemed to curl just a bit more before seeping away.

He nodded in satisfaction yet again and finished getting ready. He walked downstairs and looked to his dad. “I will text you when I get to school and when I am about to get home and when I get home.” He promised.

Price kissed the top of his son’s head. “Text your aunt as well. She will drop dinner off for you.”

He nodded. “Alright. Mission again?” He asked.

Price nodded. “Unfortunately… but remember, I love you.” He said.

(Y/N) smiled widely.  “Love you too, dad.” He said. He gave his dad one last hug and headed out for the day.

He walked down the road, towards school, humming and ignoring the world around him, that just became a habit, especially when the sky was red. He hated when the sky was red. He shivered just thinking about it, luckily his meds were starving off the worst of the worst. He had taken his meds today, right? Yeah, probably.

He got about halfway to school when he heard something from the forest, he turned and looked, something moved between the trees. His eyes widened slightly. “Nope!” He began walking faster, though not yet running, his mind was running at a thousand miles per hour.

He felt the looming sense of dread behind him, the whispers at the edge of his mind and everything going badly. His nails dug into his palm. He hadn’t recalled them getting to that point. When did his nails grow long? He shook his head and continued to hurry along. He entered the school’s property and looked behind him, into the treeline, the presence loomed there, walking side to side, agitated it hadn’t caught him. He took a deep breath and shook his head before hurrying inside. He texted his dad from the safety of his classroom.

Once the school day was over, which had consisted of very boring lessons with way too many distractions from his various less horrible hallucinations, he stood at the property line of the school, mentally preparing himself to go home. His hands drummed on the gate as his eyes glanced about, taking everything in.

Still no red sky or what followed a red sky.

He took a deep breath and texted both his dad and his aunt that he was leaving school.

It is now or never.

He stepped out of the safety of the school property and felt the presence of the man again, the paranoia inducing evil man outside. The very creature tormenting him and making him question his very own resolve to ignore. His mind was running even faster than earlier as his tiredness from being in school for 8 hours only made everything worse.

He looked around, taking in everything and everyone walking past, half the people, who he wasn’t even sure were actually real, had stuff missing from their faces that made them look anywhere from plain weird to downright horrifying. He shook his head and refocused. Why weren’t his meds working? He was sure he had been taking them.

He headed further and further. He was almost home now, but the man was following him, calling to him and whispering lies in his ear.

He shook his head and kept his eyes forward. None of this was real. Logically he knew that. Logically he was being effected by something not there. Yet it all felt real, far far too real. So real that he was questioning whether this even was false. No! He couldn’t think like that. It would only fuel his mind to make things more believable.

Before he knew it, he was at home, in the safety of his home. He took a deep breath and texted his dad and aunt again. He looked around. He was all alone. Surely there would be some food…. But he wasn’t allowed to have knives. So he couldn’t even make anything unless they had some bread.

He sighed as he resolved to just be hungry until his aunt dropped off food. He sat down and looked at the tv screen, debating whether or not to watch something when he just shrugged and started watching his favourite tv show anyway.

A few hours later his aunt walked in through the front door, he looked over at the food and smiled. “Auntie, auntie!” he stood up and hugged her, she hugged back. “What did you make?”

She chuckled. “I made shepherd’s pie, I know you like it, it should be enough to last you a few days.” She said.

“I can use the microwave to reheat it?” He asked as he took the ovenproof dish from her.

She nodded. “Yes, reheat a portion for 5 to 8 minutes.” She said.

“Thank you, auntie.” He said and gave her a big smile.

She smiled and ruffled his hair. “Alright, alright, I will get out of your hair, just… promise me you will call if things get bad or if you are unsure if something is real or not?”

He nodded. “I promise, auntie.” He said.

She regarded him a moment and then put on a smile for him, she ruffled his hair and left with a feeling of unease.

He put a square of the shepherd’s pie on a plate and picked it part, examining it. Once satisfied he popped it into the microwave.

He glanced about the empty home, despite his father not being home it was still loud as fuck. He tapped his fingers against the kitchen counter, waiting. It would be dark soon. He hated when it got dark.

He sighed and took a deep breath. “Dad, forgive me.” He said before turning on all the lights in the house. The light calmed his nerves just a bit before he grabbed his plate of food. He sat his add down, ate while watching shitty TV and went about his night as usual.

(Y/N) glanced at the clock and shook his head. 1AM. Way too late. He turned the TV off and debated letting all lights stay turned on…. His dad would kill him. Another sigh escaped his lips again as he stood up. He grabbed a knife from the kitchen, one of the big chefs’ knives.

He started turning off all lights, ignoring his own paranoia as much as possible. He ended up in the hallway and had his hand on the switch. The moment the light was turned off he had to dash. His eyes glanced into the unsafe darkness; his mind was already whirling with fear as the hallucinations of monsters from his childhood was getting ready to go after him. He turned the knife in his hand, so that it was pointed down Micheal Myers style.

He turned his body towards the stairs, turned the lights off and bolted upstairs. He could practically feel the claws and beaks snap at his ankles. He fell onto the floor of the upper floor and chuckled to himself. He looked down at the knife and paused. Why was there red on it? He looked down his body and saw his leg had a gash in it. “… dad is going to kill me if that is real…” He stood up slowly, testing his leg. He could feel the burning pain from the cut. “Shit… dad is absolutely going to kill me.” He said as he headed for the bathroom. He washed his leg, applied some medical tape. Now, he knew, from experience, that this was not proper wound care. However, had he taken the bandages needed his father would notice and ask him why.

(Y/N) really didn’t want his father asking why.

He slathered some Vaseline over the wound, cleaned the edges off and applied the medical tape to keep it closed together. Wrapped an old forgotten sports wrap around his thigh and limped to his room. This would be hell to heal.

He sighed as he sat down. He found himself sighing a lot lately. He didn’t even need to look up to know she was there.

“Did you get hurt?” A woman’s voice asked.

He looked up at her, oh how he looked like her, it was painful. Seeing his dead mother, with her throat slit open was always painful. Though he cracked a smile, far far too used to seeing horrors from his psychosis. “We match now.” He said, motioning for his leg.

Her eyes widened as she floated over, her dress was white and her hair floated above her head, he hated the stereotypical ghost his mind made him see. She touched his leg sending a shiver of ice cold dread up through his body, pins and needles gathered where she touched. A wince came through him.

“You know I don’t like your dark humour.” She said.

He sighed. “Mum…”

She shook her head. “Don’t start,”

His mind drifted to when he was younger. The reason he was even fucked in the head, his own words, not spoken around his father or psychologist. His father had been off in the military, someone his unit was after didn’t take too kindly to it, so they targeted every soldier’s family. (Y/N) had seen his own mothers throat being slit open and left for dead while he was tied to a chair unable to do anything but stare at her rotting corpse for 2 days before the school called the police to do a check up on his home.

He hadn’t spoken for a year after that day.

He still hadn’t forgiven his father. No matter how hard he tried.

“… I’m sorry.” He said.

She touched his cheek, numbing his face. “I love you, darling, don’t forget that and don’t listen to the man outside.” She said.

He glanced outside at the shadow figure standing right by his window. He walked over, fueled only by his mother’s presence, he put the curtains for the window and shook his head before sitting down.

“Are you going to tell your dad?” She asked.

He shook his head. “No, why would I?”

She gave him a look. He hated how the hallucination of his mother had the mum look down. It was just as effective as when he was younger. “Muuuum.” He whined and looked away.

She smiled a bit, not that he could see it. “Just tell your dad, he wont be mad.”

“He is going to kill me.” (Y/N) said.

She shook her head, amused. “No, he won’t.” she said and wagged her finger in his face. She pretended to look at a watch on her wrist. “Young man, it is 2 AM!”

He looked back up at the clock and winced. “If you leave, I will sleep.”

She gave him another look. “Better sleep.” She said before fading away.

He laid down, ignoring the scratching under his bed and fell asleep.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Oh please, please, please something short, funny with 141 where their wife calls them on their way home from work “yea, I think I’m having contractions!” And by the time they rush home, she’s sitting in the bath tub with their new baby. And she’s all casual like ‘Hey! Look at this cool thing I’ve got!’ And it’s their baby.

(My Grandmother had this happen! Each kid under an hour. My grandfather nearly had a heart attack! He’d always hesitate to leave her alone. Suspicious she was ‘purposefully’ going into labor when he wasn’t there to help her. Lol…)

Okay, that is so funny and adorable! Hehe, omg, I love this. Dad!141 is my favorite. I love writing them as fathers or as potential fathers. And this prompt is just an excuse to do that! Thank you so much for sending it in. Enjoy!!

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

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): married life, pregnancy, childbirth, domestic fluff, swearing, humor

Word Count: 2.1k

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

John Price

Price rubs at his temple, releasing a deep sigh.

It’s late. The base is nearly empty. Another late night filled with paperwork.

His phone buzzes, the cellular device vibrating on the desk. Price reaches for it, checking the screen. It’s you calling him, and his stomach flips.

“Cabbage,” he greets with a smile, answering the phone.

You’re pregnant, due date just a week or two away. Price doesn’t like leaving you home alone, but this is the last push. After tonight, he can come home early.

“John?”

His name is a question. There’s a hint of worry—of nervousness—and Price immediately picks up on it.

“Everything okay, love?” he asks, slowly standing, paperwork suddenly forgotten.

“John. I—I think—”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m having contractions.”

By the time the words leave your mouth, Price is already grabbing his coat. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.” He swallows, pushing down his own anxiety, smothering it so he can be strong for you. “Stay on the phone with me. I’m coming home.”

On the other end of the line, you breathe heavily. Each whimper worries him.

“John,” you gasp, voice strangled as he throws himself into his car and turns it on.

 “I know. I know. I’m coming.”

Price is doing his best to stay calm, to stay alert as he drives off base and heads for home, but all he can focus is on you.

“Keep talking to me, love,” he says, attempting to sound encouraging.

“Okay,” you reply, but then go quiet.

 “Cabbage?”

When you don’t answer him, Price uses your name. Nothing. No sound at all as if the line’s gone dead.

“Shit,” he mutters, holding the phone out to check.

Call Dropped.

“Fucking shit,” he says, louder.

Price continues to dial—continues to call. Every time, he expects you to pick up, but you never do. The worry grows, becoming deafening as the seconds tick by. Traffic laws are broken, but it gets him home faster.

He’s throwing himself out of the car, dashing to the house, not caring if he forgot to put the vehicle in park. In the front entryway, he calls out to you, using your name.

There is no response.

 “Fuck,” he whispers as he dashes up the stairs, heading for the bedroom. He enters, and it’s—

Empty.

“Where are you?” he breathes, turning away to check the rest of the house.

But then Price hears your voice, soft and soothing. Frowning, he checks the bedroom again, only to head toward the bathroom.

You’re sitting on the floor, back pressed against the tub. There’s blood and a fluid Price doesn’t recognize smearing the floor between your legs.

You glance up. Smile. “Hi,” you laugh as Price drops to his knees beside you.

There’s a baby in your arms. Its hands are tight fists, face pinched like it’s annoyed to be here.

“No wonder you didn’t answer the phone,” sighs Price, placing his hand against yours that cradles the infant’s head.

“A bit busy,” you chuckle.

Price laughs with you, taking his phone out his jacket pocket to dial the hospital.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“I’m not leaving.”

“It’s fine, Simon. Really.”

Simon crosses his arms over his chest. “The last time I left you this close to your due date, you gave birth while I wasn’t here.”

You dismiss him with a wave of your hand. “That’s not going to happen again.”

“It might,” he growls.

“It won’t,” you insist.

As you start to walk away, Simon blocks your path. “You’ve been complaining about your lower back all morning.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “I always complain about my lower back.” Simon begins to object but you continue on. “And we need milk. And eggs. And bread.”

“Fine,” mutters Simon. “Fine. I’ll go. But you call me immediately if anything happens.”

 “Okay, dad,” you reply, mocking him.

Simon drapes his arm over your shoulders, pulling you in to kiss the top of your head. “Pumpkin,” he replies, and you hear the smile in it.

“The sooner you go the sooner you’ll be back. You can worry and fuss over me all you want then.”

Simon pulls you in for another kiss before heading out the door. The trip to the store isn’t peaceful. In the back of his mind, Simon stews, a little voice telling him that you’re going to call him any second and tell him you’re in labor. That’s what happened with your first, and Simon came home after you’d given birth.

He was devasted. Upset. Not with you—never with you. He was upset with himself for not being there to support you through it. To hold your hand. To encourage and shower you with love.

Simon is standing in line at the meat counter when you call him.

“Don’t be angry,” you say when he answers the phone.

“Are you having contractions?”

“…Yes.”

“Goddamn it.”

Simon abandons the shopping trolley, apologizing to the workers as he rushes out the door and to the car. When he enters the house, he hears your labored cry. Dashing up the stairs, Simon enters the bathroom at the same moment you cry out, clearly pushing. You’re on your hands and knees, sweat beads your brow, hair sticking to your face.

He dives to his knees, arms outstretched and reaching beneath you as the baby’s head emerges.

“I’m here,” Simon says, keeping his voice calm and soothing.

You start crying, head tilting to lean against his shoulder.

Another push, and then the rest of the baby is out and in Simon’s hands. The infant is silent at first, then releases a cry of displeasure.

“Bloody hell,” exhales Simon, “I’m never leaving you alone again.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

I’m having contractions, reads the text.

Johnny’s mouth drops open, gaze growing distant.

You’re having contractions. You’re having contractions, and he is on the other side of the city. With traffic, he’s likely an entire hour away from you.

“Soap?” asks Gaz, waving his hand in front of Johnny’s face.

“I have to go,” says Johnny quickly, shooting up from his chair, almost knocking it over.

Gaz and Ghost both stand abruptly, clearly startled by Johnny’s sudden panic.

“Everything good?” asks Ghost.

Johnny shakes his head. “The missus is having contractions.”

“Oh,” replies Gaz, eyes growing a bit wide. “Damn. Go. You should go.”

“We’ll cover your tab,” adds Ghost.

Johnny groans. “Her due date isn’t for another bloody week.” He grabs his jacket.

“You’re going to be a father, Soap,” chuckles Ghost, punching him in the shoulder.

“Fuck. What if she has it while I’m not there?”

“Don’t these things take forever anyway?” muses Ghost. “Contractions don’t mean anything. Right?” He glances at Gaz.

Gaz shrugs. “I think you should worry if it’s close together.” Gaz holds his hands close to indicate the lack of time.

“Shit,” mutters Johnny, tapping away at his phone.

Are they close together?

It’s a few seconds and then the three little circles pop up, indicating that you’re typing back.

They’re close. A few minutes apart. I’m on the phone with the midwife.

“Oh fuck,” mutters Johnny, elongating the vowel as he tugs on his jacket.

Gaz grimaces. “It’ll be fine,” he tries to reassure as Johnny rushes past him. “Congrats!”

Johnny hardly hears him, he’s too focused on getting to the car. Every second is agony—not knowing what’s happening while he’s driving. When he pulls up to the house almost an hour later, there’s a car Johnny doesn’t recognize in the drive.

As bursts through the door, he hears calming music. Rushing forward into the living room, he finds you on the floor, wrapped up in a blanket, propped up by a nest of pillows. The midwife putters about as you gently rock back and forth, cradling an infant in your arms.

You glance up. “Look,” you laugh, lifting the infant that you’ve just birthed, presenting it like you’ve completed a fun DIY craft project.

Johnny almost faints.

“Oh, babe,” he exhales. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The midwife makes a sound of annoyed agreement and Johnny winces.

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “She came quickly.”

“I should have been here,” he groans, sliding to the floor next to you, draping an arm over your shoulders.

You lean into him. “You’re here now,” you sigh, eyes closing as you snuggle against him.

Johnny looks to the midwife, and she smiles at him—a reassurance. You’re fine, and so is his daughter.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle’s phone vibrates in his pocket. Ignoring it, Kyle keeps his attention on Captain Price, focusing on the briefing for the upcoming mission. The phone goes silent. Seconds later, it starts up again. Frowning, Kyle reaches into his pocket, sliding out the phone just enough to see the screen. Your name and picture appear on the screen, your smile bright and lovely.

“Need to answer that?”

Kyle’s head snaps up at the sound of Captain Price’s voice.

“Sorry, Captain. It’s the missus.”

Price inclines his head, the middle of his brow creasing slightly. “It’s she pregnant?”

“She is,” affirms Kyle.

“Then you should answer it.”

Kyle gives him, Ghost, and Soap a brief nod. “Excuse me,” he mutters, standing and heading for the door.

When the meeting room door slams shut, the phone starts up again.

Kyle answers, his words falling from his mouth quickly, sounding like one solid word instead of several. “What’s going on, love?”

“I’m having contractions.”

You sound panicked.

 “You’re—are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” you gasp. “Water broke earlier—"

Kyle’s voice rises slightly. “Your water broke and you didn’t call me?”

“I wasn’t feeling anything,” you reply, as if that makes it okay. “But now, it’s constant.” Your sigh is labored. Tired. “They’ve come on so suddenly, Kyle. I’m sorry.”

“No. No, love. Don’t apologize.” You have nothing to be sorry for. He’s just happy you called. “I’m coming home. Right now.”

“But you have that meeting. You can’t—”

“I’m coming home,” he reiterates. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Hang in there, dove. I’ll be there soon.” Kyle disconnects the call and bursts through the meeting room doors. “It’s happening,” he announces.

Soap blinks, confused. “What’s happening?”

Ghost side-eyes him. “He’s about to become a dad.”

“Fucking shit. Really?” Soap turns to Kyle, beaming. “Congrats.”

Price crosses his arms over his chest, a look of pride on his face. “Go, Sergeant.”

Kyle nods, giving a half-wave as he backs out through the toward, heading toward the parking lot. He’s practically running—rushing to turn the car on. Taking off, Kyle hardly cares if he hits anything, and he doesn’t blink when breaking nearly a dozen traffic laws.

He makes it home in half the time he usually does. Every second counts. Every moment important. If the contractions are coming quickly and close together, it means the baby is ready, and he needs to get you to the hospital.

As he enters the front door, he calls out to you. Your answer comes, but it’s distant. Upstairs. Kyle takes the stairs two at a time, walking into the bedroom to find it empty. But the bathroom light is on.

A few steps, and he pushes open the door.

You’re not standing at the sink putting on your makeup or getting ready to leave. You sit inside the shower on the tile floor, the glass door wide open, pantless, and cradling an infant in your arms.

“Shit,” he breathes, moving forward. “Shit.” Kyle crouches just outside the shower door.

You grin sheepishly, lifting the baby like it’s an accident. “She came minutes after I got off the phone with you.”

“Oh, bloody hell, love,” laughs Kyle.

There are tears in your eyes, but you’re smiling. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Don’t be, my love.” Reaching out, he grasps the back of your neck. Leaning in, he presses his lips to your forehead. “She’s beautiful.”

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@jianyi22 @sethell @atpeacee @konigssweatyhood @dreamingoftomorrow

@katerinaval @morguethemagpie @galactict3a @sarah-the-bird-nerd @mikachu-bitez

@unclearblur @kurochan3 @sans-chara @all-by-myself98 @hisuccubus

@km-ffluv @thriving-n-jiving @carbonnite-copy @sobbangchan @codeseven

@youre-a-wallflower-charlie

[gothghostiie]

something something babysitter!reader, price calling you to pick you up earlier because his shitty ex wife made sure he has the wrong time for the court hearing, you rush over to his house. hes incredibly thankful while horribly stressed, quickly tying his tie around his neck while on the way to the door. you, being the sweet thing you are, follow him around to help, baby on your hip, keys in the other. he takes them while you're standing in the doorframe and without thinking; call it force of habit; he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth before speeding off.

[bruhhxiao]

KISSES

You finished night chores in the kitchen after dinner and Simon was laying in bed “enjoying” Manchester match alone, since you were too loud 🙄

Once you get in bed too you toke a look at the screen.

“Unlucky one?” You say softly sitting next to him, he was grumpy, so you kissed him.

He signed not kissing you back, so you give him two more but he leans his head on the side ignoring you.

“C’mon the match is over.”

“No, it’s not. 3 minutes left.” He says pushing your head out of the way.

You kissed him again and again and then again, leaving sweet pecks on his lips. The match was over and he was listening to the after match conference.

“So you’re into this old man more than me? Give me one kiss!” He sighed and bought his lazy hand behind your head pulling you down for a short stamp.

“One more…” You say leaning closer and he kisses you back.

“A bit more…” as you said that he pulls you in a passionate kiss, a slow one.

After you broke the kiss and try to sit back like before, he grabs your arm pulling you down next to him kissing you a few times as he slowly positions himself on top of you.

“Simon it’s already 11:00 pm- Mhh~” he cuts you off.

“Now you got me in the mood, so shut up” he said with his nose against yours looking into your loving eyes before kissing you passionately.

[yeyinde]

John deciding to blow off steam by subscribing to a cute camgirl's onlyfans account and quickly becoming the top contributor. a harmless way to relax, and spoil a pretty girl with gifts and money, the sort of thing he doesn't have time for in his personal life but craves. hungers for. pays for lingerie and toys, private shows and videos. eagerly devours any time she has to spare on him, but the more he gets to know her, the more obsessed he becomes. the more possessive. wanting. monopolizing all of her time so that she never has a minute to spare on others.

and then she sends him a birthday video. congrats on your fortieth, she whispers into the camera, wearing the ensemble he bought for her. a mould of his cock in her hands, a whim he decided to go for after she pouted at him for a few minutes about how she wanted to feel him inside of her. or a (not so) cheap imitation, anyway. it's good. so good. she's perfect. and all his for tonight.

but she makes a mistake. his kitten is so good at hiding her face, her features. keeping herself a mystery. but as she gives him the sexiest performance he's ever seen, she slips up. shows more of herself than she wants to.

wish i could say happy birthday in person, she winks at him through the cheap plastic of her mask. a fox. isn't she coy? but it's an invitation he won't turn down.

after all, it'd be rude not to give the cute little secretary that greets him every morning exactly what she asked for, wouldn't it?

[mactavishenjoyer]

(wedding planning)

Soap:"your dad? Duh."

Ghost:"He's dead."

Soap:"Oh my fucking god he Is literally right there. I don't care if Price and you got in a fight he's still your dad and I want him in our wedding."

Price:"I- I'm not his dad?"

Soap:

Gaz:"Bullshit."

Roach:"Biggest damn lie I've heard all month."

Soap:"Womp Womp, you're not getting out of the wedding."

[docdudo]

MASTERLIST

Here's a list to better organize the drafts i have written:

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader

Parts In Order:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Asks:

People Sizes

House Sizes

Nesting For Humans

Werewolves' Hands

Can They Reach Door Handles?

Human Babies - 1

Human Babies - 2

Reader Getting Sick

Life Expectancy

Home Alone

Who They Prefer?

Sharing Food

Their Kids

Hybrid Games

Playing On The Snow

Running Away

Hate Touch

Spicy Food

Service Hybrids

Oral Fixation

Broken Ankle

Ghost's mask

Flying with Gaz

Abusive House Hold

Their Kids - 2

Plushies and Preening

Periods

Mimicking Their Sounds

Familiar 141 - Young Witch!Reader

Parts In Order:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Asks:

Familiar Sizes

Taunts

A Witch's Birth

Relationship Between Familiars And Witches

Do They Know How To Take Care Of Children?

Species

Death and Bonds

What Are Familiars?

What's Their Relationship Like?

Vampire 141 - Fledgling!Reader

Parts In Order:

Part 1

Asks:

Shock

Feeding

Venom

Fic Arts?

Foster child!reader with dad wraith!Ghost

Foster child!reader with dad wraith!Ghost (Black ver.)

Art On The Banner: @bluegiragi

Profile Picture: Me (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

[angel5ofp0rn]

that’s it that’s the whole post

[dumbbitchgalore]

Dad!Price 🥺

Nursing placements in NICU and seeing all these cute little babies made me think about how John’ll react to you giving birth to a preemie baby.

He’d absolutely be terrified, screaming on the inside when he sees this tiny little thing in a warm insulted crib to help the baby stay warm.

Probs go into the toilet and starts heaving and crying while he tries to muffles his sobs with his hand. He's a captain and doesn't want to be seen as weak but he couldn't his heart from hurting at the sight of the tiny babe too weak to even suckle some milk.

John goes into protective mode seeing you all upset and miserable while you stare into the crib. He has to swallow all of his pain to comfort you. Sweet praises spilling from his lips, wiping away any self-depricating thoughts you have of yourself.

He'll rent a motel nearby so that it's easier for you to see the baby whenever you want. Holds your hand when your nervously caress the baby. He'll stop all nursery decorations until he knows that the babe will be coming home safe and sound.

John never leaves your said, he's there when you feed the baby for the first time, bathe the baby and every other mile stone.

Until this point in time in his life, he's been so career orientated that he'd unintentionally ignore you. Now, everything is on hold, his career, deployments, training. Everything. His priority is to make sure that the baby gets home safe and that he's able to keep you as far away as possible from postpartum depression.

Even though there are still some bump along the way, he tries his best. He really does.

[gomzdrawfr]

Price: You watch your backs.

Price: Alright?

[snootlestheangel]

More Girl!Dad Price

John Price and his wife, Maggie, have 3 beautiful daughters: the eldest at 13 named Delilah Rose, the middle child Charlotte Anne at 10, and the youngest Hannah Grace at 7.

Delilah is a perfect mix of her parents: she's got her father's eyes, hair color, and smile, as well as the same look of annoyance Soap is all too familiar with. She's intelligent, but so gentle and nurturing like her mother.

Charlotte, in true middle child fashion, is the feral one. She's got her mum's eyes and curly hair, but both parents don't quite know where she gets her energy from. Yes, her father is a chaotic man, but he's never been bouncing off the walls type feral.

Hannah is an absolute sweetheart but the shyest little thing you'll ever see. She's got her mother's auburn hair and green eyes, and she's reserved like her. Albeit to a much more extreme degree.

Its Charlotte's 10th birthday, and she really wants a laser tag birthday party. The biggest problem is the Price family just moved so John could have his girls closer to base so he can be home more. Charlie, as she prefers to be called, has only made one new friend at her school and said friend canceled last minute.

Charlie isn't too distraught. She's certainly upset but is honestly just glad Dad gets to spend her birthday with her, and she's content to just do something with her family. But John isn't having it. He's so upset about it: his girls deserve to have fun birthday parties, and ten is a big milestone!

So Price calls the only person he can think of that'll help make his little girl's birthday a good day: Simon Riley.

Ghost has known the Price family since Hannah was a toddler, and the girls took to him just like their father did. At this point in time, he's practically considered family, as Hannah and Charlie have both adopted to calling him "Uncle Simon" (and yes, the first time he heard one of them call him that, he had to take a long walk to get himself together cause he knew if he cried about it in front of the captain, he'd never hear the end of it. In a good way).

All Ghost has to say is "I'll get the sergeants" and Price just knows that he'll make sure his adopted niece has an awesome birthday.

For anything, Price doesn't want to spoil the surprise, so he doesn't tell Delilah or Charlie about the boys being there, and instead just insists he'd love to play laser tag with his girls. Hannah was adamant she did not want to do laser tag.

Of course, Charlie is over the moon excited upon seeing Uncle Simon standing outside the laser tag place, a small gift tucked under his arm. She shows off how much taller she's gotten since the last time they saw each other, and he's still teasing her for being small compared to him. She's feral, though, and proceeds to try and climb him to prove a point.

Charlie's even more ecstatic to find out the two people with Simon are in fact the sergeants from Dad's team they all hear about. She is beyond thrilled and is hard to keep calm while they wait for the games to start.

So what if Price teams up with his girls? So what if he bribes Ghost into throwing to secure their win? It's his daughter's birthday and she deserves to win, dammit!

Plenty of cake and presents later at the Price household.

[jezebelenabler]

John never misses a girls night with your friends.

He’s not sure how, but he’s become the mother hen.

Hair ties sit stacked tightly on his meaty wrists, ready to tie back hair when someone is sick.

He keeps track of every drink, every trip to the bathroom, every unattended phone.

He listens to all the laments about ex boyfriends and shitty guys at the bar, ready to intervene as needed.

The drinks go on his tab as well, naturally.

At the end of the night as he sees everyone to their home and you to his, he can finally feel content.

[gloomwitchwrites]

may I request a what-if with the 141 where reader pranks the members by buying a fake military knife that isn’t dangerous and hands it to their baby? Like this: https://youtube.com/shorts/aQGZTdYRX6c?si=pX7ja8U4VGL2dATi

(I’m bad at explaining things so I hope you don’t mind the video link for an example)

The video link is totally fine! I appreciate you sending that in for a reference! And you didn't do a terrible job explaining, anon. I immediately knew what you were talking about! Now, this is all in good fun, but I don't recommend you doing it in real life. Can you guess who has the calmest reaction of the four?

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

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, married life, dad!141, girl dad! 141, pranks & shenanigans

Word Count: 1k

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

John Price

John is in his office. It’s the perfect opportunity.

With as much stealth as you can muster, you creep into the living room. In the center of the room is an enclosed space were your daughter crawls around on their stomach. When you approach, she babbles, and you grin down at her.

“Here,” you whisper, placing a prop knife next to her.

The thing is made of rubber and plastic. It won’t cause any actual harm. She immediately reaches for it, tiny fingers unable to completely wrap around the handle.

Backing up slowly, you call out to your husband. “John! Can you check on the baby?”

A pause. “Course, love,” he replies.

You hurry back into the kitchen just as you hear the squeak of his chair. John emerges, rubbing at the back of his neck. His head is down, gaze lowered, and when he notices his daughter, John grins.

“Hello, sweet girl,” he coos. “What do you have—” John’s gentle tone because one of sharp concern. “The fuck.”

John lunges, disappearing beyond your line of sight. He reappears seconds later with his daughter tucked in one arm and the pretend knife clutched in his opposite hand. With the pointy end pointed away from the precious cargo he carries, John slowly walks over to the wall and presses the blade to it.

The rubber surrenders, bending in on itself.

John sighs heavily, and then slowly turns his head in your direction.

You give him your best shit-eating grin as your daughter giggles manically.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“What are you doing? What’s in your hand?”

Simon sounds…calm. Why does he sound so calm? He should be stressed right now. Panicking.

“Is that a knife? That’s dangerous. Want to give it to me?”

Sure, the knife is fake. Made of flexible rubber and plastic, it won’t harm anyone. But at a glance it appears real enough. Did Simon see you hand it to your daughter? Is he aware of the joke and just playing along?

You creep closer, not wanting to give away your hiding spot.

“Very good. Hand that to daddy.”

Your daughter coos, and then Simon appears from thin air.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp. “You scared me.”

“Really?” he deadpans, holding up the prop knife.

Your daughter comes waddling out after him wrapping her chubby arms around his leg while she happily mumbles “daddy.”

“I thought it was hilarious,” you mutter as he tosses it at you.

Simon bends at the knees and scoops up his daughter. As he passes, he leans down, lips almost pressing against your ear. “I knew the moment I laid eyes on it. Didn’t fool me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He grins, and winks. “Comes with the territory of the job, love. I’d spot a fake anywhere.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Your daughter sits in her high chair, chewing on the end of the fake knife you’ve handed her. It’s just a prop, made to not cause any actual arm. She chews on the pointy end, drool dripping on to her tiny fingers.

Slowly, you back away, poised to dart down the hall to hide.

“Can you watch her?” you call out.

Kyle answers a few seconds later. “What?”

“Can you watch her?” You move out of the kitchen and into the hall.

“Where is she?”

“In the kitchen,” you shout back. “She’s eating.”

You hear Kyle’s voice soften. “What are you eating, love? What—oh. What the fuck!”

With the rise of surprise in his tone, you return to the kitchen. “Something wrong?”

Your daughter giggles and coos, arms outstretched as she reaches for her father. Kyle holds the knife in two hands, an unamused expression on his face.

“Did I get you?” you ask with a grin.

The annoyed expression melts, becoming a soft smile. “You did.”

He bends forward and places a quick kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. As he draws away from her, he reaches for you, grabbing your waist to pull you in. “And you’re a bloody menace.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You bend at the knees, holding out the prop knife to your little one. It’s made of rubber and plastic, but it looks real, and that’s the point. With a gleeful giggle, she takes the fake knife, completely unaware of the part she’s about to play in pranking her father.

“Go find daddy,” you coax, pointing in the direction of the living room.

She coos softly, pivots, and begins to walk forward. Each step is stilted as she wobbles toward the sofa. Johnny is on the game with the boys. His entire attention is on the television.

As your daughter approaches him, she lifts her little arm above her head, holding the fake knife high in the air like she’s a tiny Jason Voorhees. From her mouth comes nonsense, just a long breath of babbling, sounds, and the occasional word.

Johnny might be on the game, but he senses her nearness, leaning in her direction. As she rounds the sofa, her tiny body disappears. The only thing you can see is the occasional glimpse of the knife point. She screeches with glee and Johnny’s attention shifts. It’s a brief look, one intended to simply make sure she’s okay, but then he’s doing a double-take.

“What the fuck!”

Johnny launches himself off the couch, the game controller flying. Your daughter points the knife at him and Johnny immediately raises his hands in surrender.

“Where’d you get that? Find it on the ground somewhere?”

You nearly snort. He’s trying to sound calm but you hear the bite of panic.

Your daughter’s reply is to charge him. Johnny sidesteps her pathetic swing before plucking the knife right of her hand.

“How—” He stops. Frowns. And then places his entire hand around the blade. He releases it. Repeats the gesture.

Johnny glances up and chuckles, locking eyes with you. “You’re bloody well having a laugh at me, aren’t you?”

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@fern-reads @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @glassgulls @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @z-wantstowrite @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[gothghostiie]

something babysitter!reader waiting for price to drive them home while he's on video call with one of his friends, the little one in his lap, tapping around on the screen; until it somehow does something to make the screen go weird. he chuckles and shows you, inevitably holding the camera right onto you for a moment and showing you before turning it back on him. all you hear from the phone now is a curious hum. "who's the lil' tulip on the couch?"

[bruhhxiao]

Do y’all know about that pregnancy prank where the ladies pretend to drink alcohol during pregnancy to see their partners reaction?

Well I imagine Reader filling a bottle with juice/water and pretend to drink it during the most delicate months (from 1 to 3 months) of pregnancy next to Simon making him drop whatever he was holding or doing to take away the bottle squeezing their jaw trying to make them spit it out.

“juice..” Reader says proudly leaning the bottle under his nose.

I imagine Ghost Simon Riley holding his chest laying against something almost about to faint. (Yeah I imagine the big boy shitting the shit out of himself for his partner bullshit)

“ohh once this baby is out…” He says looking at them so pissed as they stand there in front of him with a dorky smile.