#john price tf 141
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🤍𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬🤍
info: john price x female reader | inspired by 🎧daddy issues / the neighborhood🎧
category: angst, fluff
warnings: negative self talk, dd/lg themes, petnames (sweetheart & doll), lmk if i missed any.
a/n: excited to finally post something of substance on here, i have a million ideas i'm gonna try to write over holiday break.
You let your head fall to the steering wheel, huge, ugly sobs wracking your body. Your chest coiled in pain, constricting around the giant, empty hole of nothing, where something should be. Where you needed something to be. Or someone.
You felt disgusting as you blew your nose once more, adding the rough napkin to a pile of its snot-covered brethren littering the passenger floorboard. You’d been trying not to cry for an hour, all to no avail.
Rolling down the window, gasping for fresh air, something, anything…
The sky, dark and cold, offered no comfort, the moon and stars, no light, and the breeze gave only a bitter chill. You needed to not be alone tonight. You couldn’t be alone tonight. Dear god, I’m so tired of being alone…
The phone rang once.
Twice.
Three ti-
“Evenin’.”
“John-” you choked out, tears streaming at the sound of his voice. “John, it hurts.”
“Darlin’, what-”
“Can I come see you?” A pause. “Please.”
“Come on,” he said quietly. “I’ll leave a light on for ya’.”
You threw the car into park, yanked your keys out, and slammed the door. You weren’t gonna make it. He lived on the ground floor, no stairs, that was good. Your head felt like it would float away if it weren’t for the pounding ache. You slumped against his door and knocked as loudly as you could.
A moment passed, and you wondered if the light had already been on for someone else. You ruin everything.
Footsteps. Bolt sliding out of place. Move. You gathered your weight and stood, lip trembling, in front of John Price.
He wore a simple tee, worn with age, and faded track pants. Nothing fancy. You couldn’t look him in the eyes.
He made a soft vocalization and beckoned you inside. You stepped in quickly, skirting past him, afraid to get him contaminated. He closed the door behind you, locking it with surety, and turned to you with a tilt of his head. “What happened, doll?”
That did it. You crashed into his chest, crying nigh uncontrollably, hands gripping his shirt, hair a mess.
John let out a small uff and it took him a moment before his arms very gently crossed behind your back. You didn’t care.
“It fucking hurts, and I hate it, I hate this shit, I just want it to go the fuck AWAY!” you wept into him, tugging at the fabric he wore, hoping the clench of your palm would take away the clench of your heart.
He sighed. In an instant, his arms had slipped down and around, scooping you off the floor and letting you curl into his torso as he walked to his room.
“No, John, no, I’ll fuck up the bed, I can’t stop cr-”
“Hush,” he grumbled. His voice sounded thick but you didn’t have the capacity to wonder why. “Y’can’t stand right now. I’ll worry about the bed.”
He nudged the door open with his foot and you did your best to bury your entire head into his shoulder. Something, anything to take it away, to go to sleep, and feel nothing for a while…
John set you down and the mattress cradled your body. His bed smelled like him. Everything smelled like John. He lifted you up by the back and slid a few pillows underneath you, handing you a box of tissues from the nightstand. “Easy, now.” John stepped to the door, but you audibly cried.
“Please don’t…please don’t leave.”
His eyes rested on you for a long beat, softening by the second. He stepped back to the bed and cupped your tear-damp face in his hand. “Okay,” John said, tucking your head into his stomach. “I won’t leave.”
Those words set you off again, and your body shook from the weight of the heaviness on your shoulders. “I can’t keep living like this, John, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t-”
“I know,” he murmured as he began to stroke the back of your head, “I know.” Still keeping you tucked into him, John moved over your body and sat next to you, his back against the headboard. “Come here, doll.”
Sniffling, you scooted closer to him and pressed your head into his chest. His arms wrapped you once more, and he touched his rough lips gently to your skin. “I’m here. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”
Your head pounded again, in cadence with your heart, your breathing, your chest, your pain, your everything, and it was all too much-
“Please make it stop, I can’t do it anymore, John, please, please!” you begged, nails carving moons into your palms.
“Gotta breathe, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Gotta breathe.” John took your wrists in his hands and lifted them above your head, brows creasing at the way your torso still tried to cave on itself, like the implosion of a star. “In…all the way…atta girl, out…easy, now…in…out…there y’go, in…out….” You gradually came down from the high, hiccuping less and seeing more clearly. John sighed again. “Come on, you.”
“Where?” you said, voice cracking.
“Shower. Warm water’ll do y’good.”
You nodded numbly and held onto his index finger as he stepped around the bed to the bathroom, afraid that he would vanish into the dark. He clicked the lightswitch, and a soft, warm glow illuminated the cool tile room. “Up y’get,” he grumbled, taking you by the waist and planting you straight onto the counter. John leaned into the shower and turned the water on, letting it run over his hands. You let your foot dangle on his leg. You didn’t want to stop touching him. Ever.
“John?”
He stood, flicking the water from his fingertips, and motioned for you to lift your arms up. He began to peel your shirt off your body with heartbreaking gentleness.
“Yes, doll.”
“I’m sorry,” you said through tee-shirt cotton, pulling your arms out of the entanglement.
“Don’t be.” John lifted you from the counter and crouched, unbuttoning your jeans.
“I am.” You stepped out of the awful denim as he pulled it down your legs. “I feel disgusting and I made a fucking mess of you.”
He stood once more, stepping around you, pulling the fastens of your bra apart. “‘Boutta clean it off.” He moved to face you once more, pulling the straps down your shoulders and away from your skin. John’s eyes found the angry red line underneath your breasts from the combined too-small band and heaving sobs. He thumbed them softly.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely audible over the shhhhh of the water.
John knelt again, tapping the inside of your thigh. “Gotta get these off.”
You obliged, stepping out so he could hook his fingers around the elastic of your panties and take those off you as well.
You stood in the pile of your clothing and reached out, tugging at his own. “Can I?”
John nodded, his eyes never once leaving your face as you worked his body out of his shirt and track pants, hovering over his boxers before he stroked the shell of your ear. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice thick again. “Won’t hurt ya’.” You mimicked him, crouching to the floor and tugging the waistband down to reveal his naked body. He was soft, not an ounce of arousal present. Something in your stomach twisted, and tears prickled at the edge of your eyes again. You moved the boxers over his foot and put it on the growing pile of clothes.
John’s knuckle traced your cheek. “Come on, doll. Into the water with ya’.”
You stood and shivered when his hand came to rest at the small of your back, guiding you slowly into the warm water haven. Stepping over the rim of the tub and into the shower stream, you let the water engulf you, flowing over hair and neck and face and chest.
John stepped in after you. He didn’t move for a moment, and you opened your eyes to meet his gaze. “What?”
“‘M sorry you’re in s’much pain.”
“...thanks.”
“Let me make it better.” You stiffened. His eyebrows knitted together in alarm. “No, not like that. Easy. Just….” John picked up a dark bottle of shampoo. “Just let me help.”
“Okay,” you whispered, turning to face the water, trying desperately to keep from crying, if only to stave off another headache.
John’s fingers laced through your hair then, working down to your scalp, through your roots all the way back to your ends. “I know it’s not what you normally use…”
“It’s okay. Thank you.”
John put his palms on your shoulders and turned you gently, gathering you into his still-dry chest and rinsing the soap from your hair. “Not a problem, doll.”
As the shampoo ran down your back, you lifted your arms ever so tentatively, and put them around his neck. John went still for a moment, but only just a moment, and soon his fingers were back to scrubbing your head.
You opened your mouth to the smell of his shampoo on your hair and the bare skin of his chest in front of you. His heart, thumping steadily, beat right below your cheek, and you instinctively pressed into him.
John’s hands slowed and he began stroking your back, gathering any hair fallout, smoothing over your skin, and breathing in your scent the same as you inhaled his. “I got ya’. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”
The tears came again, unbidden, but not fighting their way out as they had earlier - now they simply flowed. As you cried, John turned you back around, applying conditioner, body wash, scrubbing your body for you, tapping gently when he needed you to lift an arm or move a leg. He never stopped touching you, never lost contact with your skin. And he didn’t take advantage.
When John tapped your thigh, you wondered vaguely if he would attempt to rile you up, making the excuse of “just cleaning”. But he didn’t. A soft wash cloth lay between his fingers and your folds, and he worked the soap over your mound just the same as he had the rest of you. He lathered your breasts gently, without an ounce of boyishness, simply soaping and rinsing. John’s own body got wet in the process of cleaning you, but you found yourself too exhausted to care.
As the last of the conditioner was washed out of your hair, John let the water run over your back, holding you between the heat of his body and that of the shower.
“Thank you, John.”
He nodded, muscles squeezing almost imperceptibly tighter around you. “Let me know when you want to get out,” he murmured.
“Okay.”
Minutes passed and you simply stood in his arms, letting every emotion that once filled your ribcage to the point of breaking flow down the drain with the water. And John stood with you, stroking your hair when the sniffles and hiccups returned, pulling you to him when they subsided.
You spoke up, quietly telling him you were ready to get out. He shut off the water, reaching out to grab a towel for you and helping you step out of the slick tub.
“Atta girl, doll. Slow. Good.”
John wrapped you in the plush cotton, using another towel to dry off your legs, crouched before you once again. You managed to get to your arms, but it wasn’t long before he made his way up your body and met you there, his eyes soft as he took over. “I got ya’, darlin’. I got ya’.” You looked up at him with still-teary eyes as words failed you. The ghost of a smile passed over John’s features. “I know. You want a shirt?” You looked at your own tee, covered in snot, and nodded profusely. John took your hand and led you back into his darkened room. Switching a lamp on, he opened a dresser drawer and produced an almost-identical faded, age-worn tee, indiscernible from the one on the bathroom floor. “Here you go, doll.” John turned to see you right on his heels, feeling small in the unfamiliar territory. He really did crack a smile then. “Come on. Arms up.” You obeyed, your chin sinking to your chest. His eyes never strayed from their task, even as the towel covering your body fell to the ground and fluffled around your ankles. “I got shorts or pants,” he said, “You got a preference?”
Your skin prickled in the post-shower chill. “Pants, please.”
He nodded and did the same as before, dressing you with quiet comfortability, slipping soft material up over your calves and thighs. Without asking, John also produced a pair of black, thick socks, pulling them onto your feet with ease.
“Do…do you want me to…?” You gestured to his bare skin. “I…can. If you want.”
He met your gaze, gentle eyes making you feel a bit less hollow. “Just stay next to me.”
“Okay.” I can do that. You settled onto the bed’s edge, feet not quite touching the floor, and watched him pull a shirt over his huge back and another pair of pants over his massive legs. “John?”
“Yes, doll,” he replied as he shook the water from his hair into a towel.
“Can we…can I, I mean, you don’t have to, can I, um…take a nap?” When he didn’t answer immediately, you tripped over yourself to explain. “Just-just for a bit, I’ll drive home tonight, I won’t stay, I just thought maybe-”
“Sweetheart.”
You sat stock still. John’s hand came up to your shoulder. “Breathe, kid. ‘M not gonna kick y’out. Stay as long as y’need.”
You stuffed your hands in your lap. “Thanks.”
He tilted his chin to the headboard. “Get under the covers, I’ll be there in a minute.”
Your body moved before your brain caught up, and you were snug as a bug in a rug before you processed the full extent of his words. He’ll be here in…does he think we’re…what the fuck-
As the confusion set in, John returned, leaning on the doorframe, phone in hand. “Y’like pizza?”
You blinked. “Yes.”
He padded toward the bed, clambering onto the mattress - the added weight made your body fall towards him as an uff escaped your lips. You smiled, the first one tonight, and curled under his arm.
“Y’wanna order it?” John asked, showing you the screen. It’s cracked, but you can still easily make out the Domino’s online ordering menu.
“Yessss.” You kicked your feet out in his soft sheets. Making your selections, you handed it back to him and watched his face for any sign of displeasure. He showed none.
“Looks good, doll. You can sleep while we wait for it.”
You sat with that for a moment. “No.” You twisted your head up to look into his eyes. “Thank you, John. I would have driven off the road if not for you.”
He cleared his throat. “‘M glad y’came to me. Thank y’for lettin’ me take care of you.”
“I…like you taking care of me.” Your heart pounded and you became acutely aware of his hand on your shoulder, large palm and splayed fingers.
“Yeah?” John’s voice rumbled in your ear, low and full and delicious-
“Yes,” you said earnestly, propping yourself up to look at him properly. “John, I…I…” He had the nerve to look amused. “...I…”
John chuckled. “Just stay. Stay and I’ll take care of you.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“I…don’t know what to say.”
His features softened even more, if that was possible. “Don’t have to say anythin’. Just tell me what you wanna watch.” John nodded toward the tv atop his dresser.
“John…” you sniffled, squeezing his shirt in your hand once more. “Can I just…lay here for a while?”
“Course.” And without a further word, he plucked a pair of reading glasses from the nightstand, opened the faded western they laid on, and began to read.
A few moments of silence pass, and they are un-fucking-bearable. Your thoughts begin to race again - He doesn’t want you here. You’re a burden. You take up more space than you deserve. What happened to looking out for yourself? You can’t, can you? Fucking pathetic, you are. What happens when he gets tired of you? What happens wh- “John?”
He looked at you over his glasses, brows raised. “Yes, sweetheart?”
You felt small again, but safer. Safer than you had in a while. “Would you mind…reading to me? I don’t think I can sleep otherwise.”
“I’m that tedious, eh?” John grinned when you flicked him on the arm.
“No! No, I…I want you to.”
“Yes,” he chuckled, “I’ll read to you.” He turned the page back (“Can’t start right in the action, can we?”) and began, his voice flowing in its same gravelly cadence, filling your brain with soft warmth. The story was of a merchant’s daughter and the cowboy she fell in love with, and John had just gotten to the part where her father finds out. “‘-and they came to blows, fists flying through the dusty air, the world fallen silent save for the sound of knuckles on bone, and-’ Are you asleep?”
You blinked, still very much on the verge of unconsciousness. “Nuh-uhhhh…” You stretched out under his comforter, nestling your face back onto his warm thigh.
“S’okay,” he said. John laced his fingers through your hair once more. “Y’need the rest. Take it. I’ll wake y’up when pizza’s here.”
You needed no further encouragement. As sleep overtook you once more, you managed to mumble out, “Thanks, Daddy.”
John was very still for a very long time.
Then, “...You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
a/n: if you liked this, please let me know with a like, reblog, or comment 🤍
all dividers courtesy of @saradika
#call sign bambi#call of duty#john price#john price x reader#john price x female reader#john price x fem reader#captain john price#john price fluff#john price angst#cod men#john price cod#john price call of duty#john price tf 141#tf 141#task force 141
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when they come home drunk…
… price
- thinks it’s important that he loudly tells you he’s married while you steady him upstairs to bed. points to his ring incessantly, slurs on and on about his perfect wonderful wife with the big ass and soft tummy. you roll your eyes and can’t help but smile when he doesn’t let you hold on to his arm to support him. something about protecting his virtue for his wife, as if you’re not standing right beside him. proceeds to lock you out of your own bedroom when you finally get upstairs, telling you his wife will be home soon so he can’t have a strange woman in their bedroom (but still remarks on your wonderful ass). you decide it’s too early in the morning to persuade your drunk husband to let you in, so you go down to sleep on the couch. you wake up with price sleeping soundly on the floor beside you, having gone to find his wife when she never showed up in his bed the night before.
… kyle
- gets sappy and apologises for being away. loses all concept of time when he’s drunk, says he’s sorry, he didn’t mean to be away so long, he was thinking of you the whole time, the guys pulled him along and he couldn’t say no. while he’s on his knees at your feet, pressing his face to your thighs and mumbling into your marbled skin, almost making you lose your balance with his fervent apologies, you gently remind him that you were the one who made him go out with the boys because he needed to unwind after a stressful weekend of combat drills, and that he had left with them less than two hours ago. he refuses to hear and only hugs your thighs closer, so much so that you have to support yourself on the wall. turns out all he needed to relax was you.
… johnny
- is horny. almost starts drooling when he eyes you at the top of the stairs, after struggling to close the entrance door for a good minute, causing you to investigate what made all the noise. gets a wild look in his eyes when he sees you in just his t-shirt and makes you scream and giggle as he chases you back up the stairs and to the bedroom. being absolutely shitfaced, he has the coordination of a tranquillised moose and stumbles head over heels across the floor, catches his foot on the doorway and narrowly misses the edge of the dresser with his head as he falls. still, his little soldier is courageously tenting his pants when you worriedly lean over him and he gets a good look right into the collar of your shirt.
… simon
- is emotional and clingy. can’t get enough of you, won’t leave you alone. you can’t make out half his words when he’s had this much to drink (and the mancunian in him breaks out too, making it ever harder to make out the words), but you play along, smile and nod and let him sit on the closed toilet seat and talk and talk while you do your night routine in front of the mirror. so lucky to have you, luv. how could’a lug like me get a pretty one like you, luv. his melancholy statements of love become comfortable background noise for you as you remove your makeup and apply moisturiser. lets you wash the sweat and grime of the day off his face with a washcloth, closes his eyes while you massage your floral-scented moisturiser into his skin, never once stopping his little speech. ambles after you out of the bathroom, holding on to the hem of your shirt, when you’re all finished and ready for bed. his devoted mutters only let up when be falls asleep next to you.
#i’m a simon ‘lost puppy’ riley truther#john price#captain john price#john price x reader#john price x you#kyle garrick#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick x reader#kyle garrick x you#john mactavish#john soap mactavish#john mactavish x reader#john mactavish x you#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#task force 141#tf 141#tf 141 x reader#tf 141 x you#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod modern warfare#sigh straight from the heart
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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 😩
#cod x reader#poly!141 x reader#tf 141#cod x you#cod#tf 141 x reader#soap x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley x you#simon riley x reader#poly 141#cod imagines#tf 141 x you#john price x you#john price x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz x reader#gaz x reader#gaz x you#johnny soap mctavish x reader#johnny soap mctavish x you#call of duty#call of duty x reader#noona.writes
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something something reader is a bartender at a popular little pub, and night after night you are hit on by men so plastered you often have to sigh and call over one of the guys you work with the idiots end up vomiting all over themselves (sometimes it’s worse than vomit but thankfully you can count those incidents on one hand)
you think by slipping on your grandmothers old wedding ring, it will sway men from hitting on you at work. And it does, there’s still some that try to test their luck, but the minute you flash that pearl on your finger they’re scurrying off to find their next target.
Cue four new regulars, four attractive military men that always flash you a polite smile and leave you a nice tip. Price comes in more than the others, claiming the stool near your register for himself, Ghost doing the same the rare nights he slinks into the pub. Soap and Gaz come in together some weekends, sitting themselves in front of you with big grins on their faces as they watch the game on the tv overhead.
They’re all sweet, a little cocky at times but nothing that one of their grins or sly remarks can’t make up for. They ask how their favorite girl is doing when they return from longer missions, genuinely listening as you fill them in on the things that have happened since they’ve been away.
Perfect gentlemen.
Until one night you forget your ring, having had to rush your shower and sprint out the door to make it to the pub before the nightly rush.
You filling glasses when you hear the chime of the bell and a familiar laugh fill the pub.
“Was wondering if I’d see you boys tonight.” You smile, motioning for them to give you a moment as you serve the other patrons.
When you slide back over to them, you immediately reach for their usual glasses, grabbing your cloth to wipe them off, when a hand clamps around your wrist and you jump, nearly dropping the glass as Ghost turns your hand over in his.
“Trouble at home pretty?” Price comments, concern etched on his face and it takes a moment for you to catch on, and you can’t help the little giggle that spills out.
“Oh! My ring… It’s kind of a funny story. I uhm.. I’m not actually married.” You laugh, expecting them to laugh along with you, but all you feel are four pairs of eyes piercing into you.
“Come again?” Gaz asks, voice a tad deeper than usual and you ignore the chills it sends down your spine.
“I started wearing it so some of the drunkards would leave me be, kind of forgot about it, just became habit.” You chuckle nervously, hand still in Ghost’s grasp and he’s eyeing you in a way you’ve never seen before.
“Hm. Interesting.”
#tf141#tf 141 x reader#call of duty#cod#simon riley x reader#john price x reader#kyle gaz x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#cod x reader
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imagine the task force 141 falsely accusing you of being a traitor to the team. knowing your biggest fear, they use it against you. water. water, where your feet can't touch the ground. water you can't see through. at first it started with waterboarding. then slowly but surely they threatened to drop you into the pool. into the dark, deep pool. even john, who was like a father to you before, didn't help you. no. not at all. actually, he was the one who stepped into the water fully clothed, dragging your crying and squirming form with him into the bloodcurling liquid. your tears blended in with it while you we're screaming, practically begging that you were the wrong one. that you'd never do something like that. but they just stood at the edge of the pool, watching their captain almost drowning your terrified self. how would they react, when they get the information that you really weren't the one...?
#lia.writes#cod#call of duty#cod x reader#lia.thoughts#cod ghost#cod john price#cod john mactavish#lia.txt#call of duty modern warfare#call of duty ghosts#call of duty x reader#tf141#task force 141#task force x reader#task force 141 x reader#task force 141 x you#task force 141 fanfic#task force 141 imagine#call of duty angst#soap cod#cod mw2#cod headcanons#cod mwii#ghost cod#modern warfare#cod modern warfare#angst#tf 141 x you#tf 141
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me: feels unloved *searches x reader tag*
#fictional characters#when he walks in I am LOVED#x reader fic#call of duty#jjk#iwtv#got#simon ghost riley x reader#captain john price#tf 141 x reader#anthony bridgerton x reader#eddie munson x reader#steve harrington x reader#sevika x reader#arcane#wolfstar x reader#ghoap x reader#call of duty x reader#benedict bridgerton x reader#Bridgerton#rafe cameron#jj mayback x reader#jjk x reader#geto suguru#nanami kento#choso x reader#the salesman x reader#house of the dragon#john price x reader#harry potter
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This is some shit Johnny would say, it just is I'm sorry.
Johnny hates your new boyfriend. It burns in his loins every time you come over and complain about something stupid the git said. So often that now when you take a particularly large sigh, he's immediately asking "fuckin' 'ell, what he do this time eh?"
It hurts even more when you gush about something "good" your boyfriend did, even when it's just the bare minimum. Yeah he open the door for you on a date? Did you know that Johnny would have lifted up the globe had you asked him? Do you have any idea the things he would do if you so much as asked? No you didn't, because he was fairly certain you only saw him as your good friend, as you had been for years.
And Jesus did it infuriate him when you "laughed" your boyfriend's pitiful excuses for a joke. It wasn't your real laughter, it was a kind of controlled giggle. Johnny knew a couple words from him could have you full on belly laughing, gripping onto the nearest surface (usually his arm) to steady yourself. The worst part of it was, the sorry excuse of a man that had wormed his way into your life looked so proud of himself when you gave that fake laugh. Johnny wanted to wipe that grin off his face so bad. But he behaved himself, for you...most of the time, but this is Johnny we're talking about, he's nothing if not petty.
He pretends to like your sorry excuse of a boyfriend in front of you so that you invite him on your dates because you hope they can be friends. Johnny just wants to ruin things
When you make food, Johnny is there. Reminding your boyfriend he would never be the first person to try your recipes.
"Added some pepper since las' time aye lass?"
He then proceeds to taste test form the same spoon as you, side eyeing your "man".
And when you do serve the food, he eats 10x more than he usually does which is saying a lot for him. Just has to mention how many calories he's been burning at the gym lately. Does your boyfriend work out? Oh he doesn't? Hm, interesting.
Also the king of flirty jokes but turns it to 100 when he's around your new boyfriend.
"Jesus, you eat like a horse"
"Aye 's not the only thing about me thas' like a horse"
All said with that shit eating grin he knows pisses your boyfriend off.
Johnny knows this "relationship" (he refuses to believe you actually like the tadger) isn't going to last long anyway. He's the only person who could ever make you truly happy. The only person you'd wait for at the airport every time he got back from deployment. The only person you'd text out of no where at 3am to tell him you were hungry. He just had to help you see it was all and scare off your pathetic partner. If he couldn't manage it, he knew a couple big scary guys that could follow him home at night.
#the worms#they all have Scottish accents#johhny soap mactavish#soap x y/n#johnny soap mactavish#soap x you#soap x reader#soap smut#john soap mactavish#soap#soap mw2#john soap mctavish fluff#john soap mctavish x reader#soap call of duty#soap cod#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish#johnny x reader#johhny#tf141 x reader#tf 141 headcanons#tf 141 x reader#tf 141#cod mw2#cod x reader#cod headcanons#simon ghost riley x reader#kyle garrick x reader#captain john price#ghost x reader
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The 2023 141 Christmas Special
#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#kyle gaz garrick#john price#tf 141#ghostsoap#call of duty#cod
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lmao thinking about how the tf141 men know you're serious by the way you say their given names. like they just turn docile immediately, no matter what they're doing or their positions.
“kyle, johnny, zip it.” swiveling in your chair, you turn your gaze towards them and glare, lips set into a thin line. the two men who sit next to each other stop their quiet bickering and nod softly, focusing on laswell once more.
ghost usually avoids doing med checkups when the time of year rolls around and it just ends up making the medical professional's jobs harder than it needs to be (they usually come to you in order to get him to do it.) “simon, i’m not in the mood. now.” he sulks and broods (swears he doesn't.) but nonetheless does the med check up, that you sit in on so he doesn't run.
price isn't exempt from it either, despite being captain. during a mission including farah and her people, the two had been going back and forth on the trek to the meet-up point. annoyed you had stopped price with a hand to his chest and met his eyes. “john, leave it alone. we don't have time for this.” he’d kept eye contact for a bit but had nodded, clapping you on the shoulder. “heard, seargent.”
ppl call you the 141 whisperer 💀 lolll
#call of duty#kyle gaz garrick#captain john price#johnny soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#poly 141#poly tf141#tf 141 x reader#tf141 x you#cod#call of duty headcanons#tf141 x female reader#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#call of duty modern warfare#deunmiu dessie#call of duty fluff#tf141 are simps for u#tf141#cod mwii#simon is a little shit#random and messy#thinking bout this for like ever#simon riley x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#soap mactavish x reader#captain john price x reader
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Ghost makes INCREDIBLY uncomfortable jokes, when he’s feeling petty. Like..
Say they’re hiding in a small space, getting away from enemies
“Me an’ my brother used to hide like this from my old man.”
They all just look at him. Price- who had repeatedly told him to knock it off. Just stares, unamused.
Gaz is like “oh.. uh. Sorry about that mate.”, always reacts like that. If he uses it to get his way, gaz will give in first.
And soap DGAF! Looks the man who just trauma dumped on him. Dead in the eyes and in a fed up tone, “steam’n Jesus stop doing tha’,”
if ghost actually wanted to talk. Of it was just them, if it was him being vulnerable, Ofcourse they’d listen. Soap, price and gaz, (price is one of only people who knows the full story. Not even soap knows it all)
But it’s clear when he’s taking the piss. He says it with a smile in his voice. And looks incredibly proud of himself. And they all HATE it.
He did this with Farah when they were on overwatch (MW3) and she matched his freak. Convo went something like this
Price: “one wrong move; and I’ll put a hole through you (talking to Shepard)”
Ghost: “my dad used to say that to me.”
Farah: “I watched someone do that to my dad,”
Ghost: “nice.”
Farah: “nice.”
LMAO I LOVE GHOST AND FARAHS FRIENDSHIP (sassy snipers.)
#cod mw reboot#cod mw2#cod mw3#call of duty#john price#captain price#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#ghost#gaz#cod gaz#gaz cod#kyle garrick#farah#farah cod#ghost hc#tf 141#cod 141#task force 141#141
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happy holidays
#wishing you all the best#captain price as santa forever#its that last of us quote ya know#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#cod#cod fanart#cod art#vozart#soapghost#ghostsoap#tf 141
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Ghost is the type of dad that, when his kids are driving him up the fucking wall, pinches the bridge of his nose as he thinks to himself “I should’ve pulled out.”
Gaz is the type of dad that, when his kids are giving him attitude, drops them off at Nana’s house because he knows she’ll teach them a thing or two about respect.
Soap is the type of dad that, when his kids are being ungrateful little shits, takes all of the batteries/cables/chargers out of their devices and buries them somewhere in the yard.
Price is the type of dad that, when his kids are getting on his very last nerve, threatens to drop them off outside the nearest animal shelter like a box of unwanted puppies.
#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#john mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#john price x reader#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader#simon riley#kyle garrick#john mactavish#john price#tf 141 x reader#task force 141 x reader#task force 141#cod x reader#call of duty x reader#cod mw2#call of duty#modern warfare 2#female reader
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FILE LOADING… tf 141 x hacker! reader
pt one
You needed a way to lighten your prison sentence and Task Force needed a hacker who actually knew what they were doing.
It was a win-win situation if it wasn’t for the fact that you always work alone. Teamwork? That was an unheard concept to you.
You, with a criminal record so long it could be used as a blanket. You who came from a mafia family so it’s no wonder such a sweet looking doll ended up in prison for stealing valuable files.
Task Force 141, an elite squad who had no idea how to spend their hefty pay checks. The idea of a special woman in their lives was merely a figment of their imagination until Laswell threw your files down in front of him.
You were young, barely twenty-seven. The tattoo ink decorating your body with feminine designs was a harsh contrast to your background. And when you sneered at the camera, it gave a perfect view of your tongue piercing and gems adorning your teeth.
In short, you were the perfect little thing they could spoil.
“Reaper? Why do they call her that?”
“Because it’s the last name you learn before a bullet pierces your fucking skull. Once she steals your information, there’s no getting it back. And when she shares it with your enemies, you’re a deadman walking.”
#ghost cod x reader#john price cod#cod john price#gaz cod#kyle gaz garrick#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#captain john price#captain price#john price x reader#john price#call of duty x reader#call of duty#cod mw2#cod modern warfare#task force 141 x reader#task force 141#task force x reader#poly task force 141#tf 141#tf 141 x reader#tf 141 x you#task force 141 x you#simon riley
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(Arranged marriage to duke john price except it means you married four instead of one 👁️👁️)
Your marriage to Duke Price is one out of necessity: you need a husband before high society begins rumoring you to be a barren woman and too old to be married off, and Duke Price needs a wife who is able to take on Duchess duties of his duchies.
You do not expect love, though you suppose it’d be a nice bonus. You are merely glad that Duke Price is a reasonable handsome man, and he informs you on your wedding night that he will not force himself on you, and there is no need to immediately begin attemtping for an heir.
You take admirably to your new duties, have been raised practically for this purpose though the head butler Kyle is wonderful in helping you as well- actually all the servants have been wonderful towards you. You have regular dinners with John, though they are a bit stilted but at least Chef Johnny’s food is good enough you can easily forget the tense atmosphere. You can tell your husband is hiding something- you are sometimes barred from going to his office to him, certain rooms are not allowed for you, and you are not allowed anywhere near the letters addressed to him- but as long as it isn’t hurting you, why should you bother him? So you never ask, and he seems happy enough that you don’t.
Until you accidentally stumble upon him and Duke Riley exchanging tongues. Very heatedly, hands grasping and tugging on each other’s clothes and Duke Riley sat on your husband’s desk.
It’s hot.
What’s not so hot is the way they both look at you when they realize you are there. You stutter, face a red so fierce it’d put a furnace to shame, and bolt out of the room despite hearing John call your name.
And you also skip out on the dinners for now, pretending you are sick with the help of your maids and their makeup skills.
But suddenly, it’s like your eyes have been opened. It’s not just Duke Riley who seems to hold a part of your husband’s heart; the one time you gather enough courage to maybe go speak with John and address the situation, you see Kyle stumbling out all disheveled and flushed, though he has a very satisfied air around him. He freezes when he sees you, and your jaw drops.
“My lady-“
“I- I’ll just- I’m taking a walk! Alone!”
You go to the kitchens instead, hoping that Johnny would have something delicious you can eat. Maybe something cold enough to wash away the blush on your cheeks.
Johnny is weirdly silent, however, even as he whips up chocolate mousse for you. His silence is not normal, it feels… almost guilty…
You sighs, take in a deep breath, and gather your dress. “Johnny… are you too…-?”
“Aye, m’lady. But-“
You can’t take it anymore. You leave the kitchens, and go straight back to your bedroom to bury your face in your bed. It’s not as if you are upset! It’s just- a rather befuddling situation?
Two nights later, it’s John himself who comes to you. You had assumed it was one of your maids returning with a new jar of oil for your nightly hair routine, but it’s your husband. You are glad it’s winter, and you aren’t simply in a thin nightgown.
“Wife.” He says, voice steady yet strained.
“John.”
You can’t call him husband. You’ve spent the last two days thinking and you were… rather sad. You were in the way of whatever they had (you saw Kyle and Johnny kissing, Johnny specifically sending food addressed to Duke Riley), weren’t you?
John sighs, sitting down on the settee while you remain on your vanity. After a moment of awkward silence, he opens his eyes and looks at you. “…what do you want to remain silent about this?”
You blink, raising an eyebrow. “…huh?”
John’s fists clench. “How much do you want in return for your silence?”
Frowning, you set your brush down and fully turn to him even if you feel exposed despite your thicker nightgown. “Is this about your… partners?” You say the word delicately, then shake your head. “I want nothing, John. If you are worried about me starting anything, I won’t. I just… hope this doesn’t mean you will divorce me?”
Being a divorced woman might as well be a death sentence on its own.
He looks at you, shocked into silence, and you quickly explain; his relationships have nothing to do with you and you aren’t a petty woman, who are you to come between what he and they have? You only hope this won’t take away the protection this marriage gave you.
That night, thus, you and John reach an agreement you are sure both of you are satisfied with.
Except, months later, John is no longer satisfied.
With the ice broken between the two of you. The dinners have become so much more… relaxing and comfortable, far less than they had been. No secrecy was needed when you were around anymore, and you only giggle and look away, feigning innocence when they share tender kisses between one another… and the less polite kisses.
John can’t remain satisfied with this arrangement. You are such a sweet thing, now that he’s become to know you far better. He can see the way his men are looking at you now, something between fondness and hunger and want; Kyle helps you far more often now, despite your insistence that you can do it yourself. Even when you do it yourself, he stays by you and ensures you are comfortable.
And he joins your evening walks, arms looped as the two of you speak, laughing and giggling.
It’s similar to your late night chats with Johnny, where he plies your full of sweets and desserts until even your dreams are full of sweeter kisses you are sure will never be for you. Johnny, who cooks your favorites on hard days and who you heard from Kyle is even more serious about only having the best of the best in vegetables and meats and seasonings.
And Duke Riley… for all his stoicism, he is gentle with you. Even when he’d stared at you with doubt and mistrust, no doubt believing you to be lying to John and simply waiting for the shoe to drop and for you to ruin them. Yet it never happens, and now, during the galas you attend all dolled up on John’s arm and ignoring all murmurs about still having no children, you even dance with him and giggle at his terribly dry jokes, even share a few of your own with him.
Steadily, slowly, obliviously, John has watched each of his men fall for you. This, obviously, made you theirs. It made you his, more and more than you already were.
It’s why your current request is making him clench his glass in his hand, with Kyle looking on in displeasure as well, giving him subtle glances.
“-So that’s why I was asking, John,” you remain sweetly oblivious, adorned in a pretty dress Simon had gotten for you recently. “He will not spread any rumors, I’ll personally make sure of that-”
Your cheeks darken then, and you glance away. “I- I am… merely a bit- unsatisfied, if you understand my point. And the stable man is loyal to you, he wouldn’t say anything.”
It’s clear he needs to keep a better watch over you. Where and when did you even interact with his stable boy, Graves? Though he focused on your words.
Unsatisfied.
Well, he can’t have that, can he? You’ve done your wifely duties so admirably, it’s about time he took care of you as well… and maybe dealt with the baseless barren rumors as well. A baby would keep you nice and content and focused on them alone, wouldn’t it?
Oh yes. Yes, it would.
dukedom au masterlist
Part two
#cod x reader#cod#noona.writes#cod x you#tf 141 x reader#tf 141#tf 141 x you#cod imagines#john price x reader#poly!141 x reader#poly 141 x reader#poly 141#simon ghost x you#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost x reader#soap x reader#gaz x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#ghost x you#johnny soap mctavish x reader#john price imagine#ghost imagines#kyle gaz garrick x you#kyle gaz x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley imagines#johnny soap mctavish x you#kyle gaz x you
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the men finding farmer!reader awake earlier than you usually are one morning, scribbling in a little notebook at the kitchen table, eyes darting between your words and the calendar on the wall
“good morning, there’s tea on the stove and toast on the counter.” you greet, voice soft and tired and Price rolls his eyes.
(once you start warming up to them and allowing them to help more, they grill you about working yourself to exhaustion)
“Thought you promised to take it easy this morning.” He mutters, giving Grimes a scratch behind the ears as he goes to grab a mug. He feels Ghost squeeze by behind him, hands warm on his lower back as he pours his tea.
“I’m making a schedule Price.” You yawn, shooing Soap away he tries to snatch the last bite of eggs of your plate. “Hey!” You snap, slapping his hand. Soap looks at you as though you beat him. “Not even a little bite?”
“Make your own, you don’t even like my eggs-“
“Aye! All I said that mornin’ was they was runny!” He whines, and Ghost lightly shoves him away, stealing the seat closest to you.
“What kind of schedule hm?” He questions, trying to peer down at the paper.
“Breeding season.”
Gaz chokes on a piece of toast, Soap slapping his back quickly. Ghost’s fork clatters back onto his plate and Price freezes, only to curse when scalding tea cascades over the side of his mug and down his hand.
You watch, brow raised, as they compose themselves.
“Breeding season?” Soap asks weakly, voice tight and you look between them, tilting your head.
“Yeah…? For the animals…?” You say slowly, and they let out a synchronised groan, Price running a hand over his face.
“Christ love, learn how to phrase shit yeah?”
“What? What do you mean? It’s breeding season!”
“Lass please-“
#on the run#tf 141 x reader#poly 141 x reader#simon riley x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#john price x reader#kyle gaz x reader#cod smut
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