#modern warefare 2 headcanons

[hunterbunter3000]

Krueger being a seat sniffer isn’t shocking tbh 💀 that man def already picked out the names of his and Sweetheart’s future kids and wedding plans detailed in a binder (is he manifesting or delusional; who knows lol!).

He also def has a shrine dedicated to Sweetheart openly in his room, atleast the other boys have the decency to hide their shrines in their closet 😤😂

LMAOOO STOP THATS SO HIM (AND FUCKING EVERYONE ELSE)

He has like- three binders and two notebooks he has for Sweetheart and his future with her. Like it's just FILLED with where they would live, how many kids they would have, tHEIR NAMES, the colleges they would go to, the house he wants to get when they get married, THE WEDDING

MANS IS EVEN PLANNING FOR THEIR RETIREMENT LIKE-- KRUEGER??? he's delulu and manifesting for this to happen!! Let's cheer him on! ✨️🙏 PFFTT-

And yes. He has a shrine of Sweetheart. OBVIOUSLY. THE MOMENT YOU WALK IN its right there in your face. It's sitting on a small table-like stand and it's FILLED with framed pictures of Sweetheart and heart shaped candles around them. There's a long frame with gold on it, and inside of it is a nail set he got her his first time ever (that was three years ago 💀) She told him it was coming off, and she was so sad because he got it for her (he fell in love with her more because of that) so he helped her get them off, and he told her that he'll throw them away.

S I K E

once she left he threw them in his pocket so fast and ran off to his room 💀💀 and then there's a pedestal on the table, and it has a small, marble bust of Sweetheart he paid someone to do on etsy (HE LOVES ETSY IM NOT CHANGING MY MIND) and what's crazy is that all of its glued down to the table, and there's a button behind it, so he presses that button when Sweetheart comes around and the table top flips, being empty and he places magazines on the clean top 🧍‍♀️ THE MAN HAS A SECRET CONTRAPTION FOR HIS SHRINE

(You can't deny the fact that he prays to it as well. You CANT)

He's down horrifically bad. He wants her sO BADLY

well get tf in line BIG BOY CAUSE SO DOES EVERYONE ELSE

They don't really have shrines like Krueger (because he's delusional) but everyone does have a picture of Sweetheart or some sort of gift she's made them somewhere in their room. Or on them.

Like Alejandro has a small gold locket of Sweetheart he wears around his neck and NEVER TAKES IT OFF-- and when he's about to go on a mission, he kisses the locket, says a small prayer and puts it under his shirt, so he knows that he's protected and has someone to go back to (why am I making myself cry)

Rudy has a picture of Sweetheart framed with a letter she sent him on his desk with the little things she's made him. He reads the letter every time he misses her (WHY AM I DOING THIS TO MYSELF)

Ghost wears a braided friendship bracelet Sweetheart made him. (Its black and blue with lil skulls) He hides it on his left wrist with his glove, but he still wears it. When he's not around Sweetheart, he plays with the ties and smiles

Soap has like a little collage of pictures of Sweetheart and him on a corkboard. They take pictures when they're in a new country or state and collect weeds of flowers and give it to each other (SO CUTE I LOVE SOAP) and his sketchbook is FILLED of Sweetheart-- like he remembers what she looks like so much he sketches her from memory. And he uses a separate sketchbook for her, he calls it "Sweet's Looks".

Gaz only has one picture of her, and it's on his phone. It's Sweetheart cuddled up on his side, hand on his chest while watching a movie. It's obviously his home screen wallpaper (not his lock screen he can't handle that) he also has a little basket of different rocks Sweetheart has given him because she has a little basket of rocks he has given her as well (they're birds I tell ya)

Price has a photo of her in his hat. That's why he never lets anyone touch it, and his heart beats a little quicker when Sweetheart wears is hat cause he's nervous she's gonna see the picture (she has, and it's her and Brutus together and she squeals everytime in her mind)

Roach has a picture of Sweetheart taped to a bear. 🧍‍♀️ don't really wanna go into that one--

Alex has like- one of those photo booth type of pictures. Yk the ones that come in threes or fours. They went to a mall and Sweetheart HAD to get some. Alex uses his as a bookmark.

Now Horangi is like Krueger. He DOES have a shrine but it's in his closet. You will NEVER SEE IT.

König would have a shrine in his closet as well, but it's SMALL. Like two pictures and a good luck letter she wrote to him when he was on a mission. He's so soft for her good lord.

Graves has like.... I don't know a paperclip? That Sweetheart gave him? Think he still has that pen that Sweetheart forgot to take back. Still counts.

[betweenstorms]

It struck you one evening, somewhere in the midst of a quiet shower, the realisation that you had never seen your boyfriend listen to music. Simon Riley was a man carved from stillness, his silence so tangible it felt like an extension of him, as if he commanded it the way others commanded words. As if quiet itself belonged to him.

For you, music was as constant as breath, filling the spaces of your life. It hummed through the kitchen as you cooked, danced in the clink of dishes and drifted through the rooms with every fold of laundry. When Simon was home from deployment, he never complained about it, never reached for the volume knob or asked you to turn it off. He’d said he didn’t mind, that you could listen to whatever you wanted.

He lived in the quiet, and you lived in the sound, and somehow, those worlds had learned to overlap. But he’d never shown a preference, never reached for a song the way you did. Still, the thought nagged at you—what did Simon Riley listen to, if he listened to anything at all?

And then, one rainy morning, your answer arrived.

You had slept in, wrapped in the warmth of blankets, the steady patter of rain on the window lulling you into those extra minutes of rest. The world outside was only a distant hum, as if time had slowed down just for you. When you finally stirred, stretching lazily in the grey light, you pushed yourself from bed, the coolness of the room waking your senses.

And then you paused.

In the tender light of morning, he stood—Simon, his figure framed by the soft, pale glow. At the stove, his broad shoulders curved beneath the black sweatshirt, a presence as unyielding as stone. Even with his back to you, he commanded the room effortlessly, the quiet weight of him impossible to ignore. His arms, thick with muscle, spoke of strength honed in battle, yet he moved with a surprising grace, each motion deliberate, unhurried. But it wasn’t the quiet power of his form or the sight of him cooking that made you stop.

It was the sound of his voice.

Low, hoarse and gravelly, almost too quiet to catch, Simon was murmuring the lyrics of a song under his breath, so nonchalantly it nearly made you laugh.

“And just like the rain You cast the dust into nothing And wash out the salt from my hands?”

There was something so deadpan and painfully out of tune about the way his voice grumbled through the lyrics, it was almost comical. And yet, it was also extremely sweet.

In the quiet of the morning, there he was, humming along to a song you knew well—your favourite song, as though it had seeped into him without you ever knowing.

“So touch me again I feel my shadow dissolving Will you cleanse me with pleasure?”

You stood in the doorway, grinning to yourself, watching as he moved through the space, his stillness now softened by the gentle rhythm of the rain. You hadn’t known Simon even liked music, let alone your music, and the sight of him—the infamous Ghost—murmuring Sleep Token lyrics under his breath, made your heart swell.

betweenstorms (next) (masterlist)

[aestheticanimegirl15]

TW: slight angst, slight mentions of pregnancy, fem reader

It happens every year without fail since you and Simon got together. Every December, it's almost like clock work. You've come to accept it now as sort of a tradition. You put up the tree, wrap it in colorful lights, candy canes, tinsel, and ornaments that's been in your family for years. You hang up the stockings, make hot coco, etc. All normal, right? Except for this.

It's happens a handful of times, a week or a couple of days before Christmas. You'd wake up at some ungodly hour in the middle of the night because the spot next to you is cold, the personal heater you call your husband no where to be seen. Except you know exactly where he is, and if you can manage to pull yourself out of the comfort of your warm bed and into the cold winter air you will find him exactly where you thought he was.

He'd be sitting on the floor, criss crossed, and just staring at the Christmas tree. His hulking form looks almost comical in such a position, almost looking like a school child waiting for story time. It's easy to tell he's tired and probably cold, too. So you grab a blanket and sit next to him, drapping the blanket around the both of you. He'd accept it, but he won't talk, not a peep, he won't even take his eyes off the colorful tree.

So you don't, either. You'll just sit there with him, looking at the tree and the presents you had managed to wrap before you had to stop because your legs were numb and ran out of tape. You'll notice the distant, almost sad look in his eyes as he stares at the tree, like he's remembering something. But you won't mention it, in the past you did but he'd always divert the question.

"Maybe in the future, love." He'd say.

And since there was no point in asking questions you'd get no awnsers to, you just came to accept this as a part of who he is. After all before he met you, he never celebrated the holiday unless one of his teammates forced him to. You remember being shocked when he told you he had never put up a tree before.

"Just never saw the point in it."

After a while, if you're able to, you'll manage to coax him back into bed. The bed now cold but just as comfy as when you left it, and you'll fall back asleep in his arms.

Simon swears to himself that one day he'll tell you once he's comfortable enough. He'll tell you about his mother, brother, sister in law, and his nephew. Maybe even tell you what happened to them if he can bring himself to talk about it without breaking down. One day, he'll tell you about his past, but not tonight. Tonight he'll just focus on the feeling of you in his arms, the sound of your gentle breathing, but most of all he'll focus on the feeling of your stomach and the five month baby bump that was hidden underneath your night shirt.

But in the quiet of the night, when he knows your asleep. A silent whisper floats up into the air

"Merry Christmas, mom... I hope Santa is able to get little Joseph his present. Say hi to Tommy and Beth for me...."

[the-whispers-of-death]

Simon "Ghost" Riley likes sleeping with your back flush against his chest and his head buried into the crook of your neck. He loves having his hands resting on your stomach, your hands resting on his.

He has the best sleep of his life when you're next to him.

[stargirlstabber]

imagine asking baker!bf!könig why the little pieces of pie he made this morning taste so salty. did he use salt instead of sugar...? silly könig...

[fortunatelyuniquepeach]

Soap having an introverted/shy bestfriend headcanons

pairing: Johnny "soap" mactavish x gn!reader

a/n: huge thank you to everyone who took the time to read or reblog my last post I actually nearly cried🫶🏼. also some of these are a bit longer than they should be I don't even know if they still count as headcanons lol.

It definitely takes you a while to become friends. It literally took you weeks to speak more than a few sentences, so taking months to become close friends was no surprise.

He's so used to talking all the time and you just listening, at some point it was the only way you could have a conversation. When you started talking more around him, he got so quiet and listened so well even if it wasn't something important, he was just happy to listen to you.

Definitely takes notice of all the things you like, he wants to be so close to you, so he tries to learn about all your favorite things. First time he talked about your favorite movie Infront of you and saw how your eyes lighted up he decided he'd do it more. He also always brings you your favorite food/drink.

The first time you hugged him it was on his birthday. He's had a small birthday party, only invited close people (you being included of course), and after everyone left and you finally gave him his present, He hugged you so tight to his chest, arms wrapped around you. He was about to pull way remembering you told him you're not so comfortable with hugs, only to be stopped by you wrapping your arms around his waist. He tried to act cool after you broke the hug but he was screaming inside. His birthday became more special to him.

He was hoping hugs would become a regular thing after, but they didn't. Although, his disappointment is long forgotten when you start giving him little touches. A hand on his shoulder, your knee touching his, sometimes you'd even let him lay his head on your shoulder.

He always invites you to new places and tries to introduce you to his friends. He understands how you feel about social interactions and public places, so he doesn't pressure you. He just wants his bestfriend with him all the time):

So protective of you! the moment someone says something like "do you ever talk?" he's already in their face. No seriously, he won't leave them 'till you get an apology. You try to tell him that it's okay and it's no big deal but he disagrees, annoying his bonnie is in fact a huge deal.

Since you hate public places so much, he starts inviting you to his place to hang out. The more it happened the more used he is to it, and at one point "hanging out" is basically each of you doing their own thing but in the same room together. You're so quiet he forgets you're there, so when you suddenly say something, he lets out a scream. It makes you laugh so hard the first time it happens, so he starts doing it on purpose.

You once decided to go over your drinking limit due to social anxiety reasons. Johnny saw a whole new you that night. He felt a little guilty enjoying you being drunk, you laughed loudly at his jokes and told him so many stories about you he's never heard before, he couldn't help but enjoy it. That night before he dropped you off at your place, you grabbed his face touching it for the first time ever and told him "I wouldn't trade you for the world, johnny". He had to leave you as quickly as possible because he knew he was about to cry, and he did. He was just overwhelmed with all the love he has for you; he couldn't believe you actually felt this way about him.

You two are literally opposites people get shocked seeing you together. You two are surprised as well, neither of you could imagine being bestfriends with someone who is nothing like them, but you're so happy you are. You're besties forever. 🫶🏼

[juicybvns]

Everyone knows I'm a good girl officer ౨ৎ

Police officer! Simon x fem reader; includes smut

You hear the sound of police sirens fill your ears. You move your eyes to the rearview mirror to see blue and red flashes followed by a police car.

"Fuckkkk me."

You exhale out and roll your eyes back to the road. You can barely see your surroundings, on a dark road with nothing but forest trees around you. You turn the wheel to the right, coming to a stop at the edge of the road.

You're not sure what you did wrong. Lights on. Not swerving. No cars for miles. You keep in mind to watch around the dark area. The car goes in park.

The police car behind you slows down behind you, coming to a complete stop. You see the shadow of a large figure swing out the front seat and slam the door shut.

Watching from the mirror, you watch the tall figure sway their hips and they make their way to the car.

Worry fills your mind. Out alone, nobody, and a scary possible man.

What if it's a corrupt cop? Will I make it home?

You're thoughts are interrupted when the sound of metal taps your window. Turning, you see a flashlight shining in your lap, the light blinding you.

You put your finger to the window button and press down.

The window rolls down and he moves the light to the side so you can better see him.

The bulky vest covered chest with the words POLICE phrased across, leans down. It provides you an opportunity to see his face.

Wow he's fine

He watches you stare at him and he slightly smiles.

"License and registration please."

You fumbled your words, caught in the act of staring. "Of course."

You turn to your left to retrieve the documents in the glove box. Hands scramming around through the messy drawer.

He amusingly watches you as you quickly look around.

"Sorry officer, it's all a mess in here." You look back at him sheepishly for a second.

He's standing tall, beefy arm holding his collar while the other holds the flashlight. You take notice of his sandy hair gelled back and a sandy colored stache to match.

The gun holster on his side putting weight on his belt, making them hang a bit low.

"No worries." He's chewing gum.

You retrieve the papers and hand him those while you get your license from your wallet. He's flashing the paper while you hold the license, waiting for him to look after. You peep ink on his forearm, in the shape of a skull followed over veins wrapping around it like a trail.

He hands it back to you and holds his hand out for the license. You see a gleam coming from his right pec and take note of the name pin, Riley.

"So, what's a pretty lady like ya' doing out here all alone?" He looks up from the card holding it out.

You take it back, "I'm headed to my parents house."

He nods and put one of hands on his belt, his thumb slipping in for more security. He looks to the side thinking, his sharp jawline noticeable.

"If I may ask" you pause, choosing your tone wisely, "Officer Riley, why did you stop me?"

His head turns at the mention of his name and he hold your stare thinking of an answer.

"Want'n to see if ya' were cute."

He blows a bubble, and strokes his stubble.

"and I was right, ya' are." He grins.

౨ৎ౨ৎ౨ৎ౨ৎ౨ৎ౨ৎ

The cold feeling of metal pushes on your cheek, chills down your body but the warming feeling of Officer Riley filling you up.

"Oh fuck!"

The raw feeling of the handcuffs press against your wrist with the pressure of his grip. He holds your hands behind your back as he thrusts into you. Your car jerking foward and back with you two.

The stretch from his girth making you cry out, feeling his veins rub against your walls.

His body is tense against yours as he ruts into you. A piece of his sandy hair falling on his forehead.

"Who's pussy is this?"

You mind is clouded with lust and pleasure, you don't hear him.

"I said, who's pussy is this?"

He spreads your legs more and raises his hand to slap on your ass. The cold air making it burn.

Your drool hitting the car, mouth wide open. "Yours Officer!"

His thrusts become more intense, you feeling your nipples rubbing on the car bringing you closer to orgasm.

He looks down where you two connect. "That's right, now take it like a good girl."

[konigsblog]

what i think the 141 + vaqueros, könig eat for breakfast

price 🥃: a cigar. sits outside on the small balcony outside his flat, taking drags from his lit cigar before having another. maybe, he'll make some bacon, usually something salty and bitter.

soap 🧼: scrambled eggs on toast. i don't know why, but he probably does. catch him burning the toast and getting pissed off, angrily eating it. he'll have some orange juice or a lucozade with it. definitely drinks a lot of energy and carbonated drinks.

ghost 💀: everyone knows it, he has a cigarette and some tea. sugary tea. true believer he drinks tea with 2-3tsp of sugar and some milk, it's only one cup — till it's not and he's drinking his third today... opens his window and stands by it while watching people walk in the streets. definitely lives in a flat/apartment, finds it comforting knowing there's people around, and appreciates the sounds of cars driving past.

gaz 🧢: either eats something healthy, or something super unhealthy. like, açai bowl or nutella on a toast. definitely likes bananas, mangos and strawberries. or maybe he'll have a smoothie or something, otherwise he's eating peanut butter and chocolate on a sandwich...

alejandro: savoury breakfast bowl and dark coffee. probably doesn't enjoy sweet stuff very often, but loves stuff salty and bitter, especially black coffee. he won't admit that it tastes bad, drinks multiple cups a day and feels energised. doesn't understand the people thet eat chocolate cereal.

rudy: greek yogurt, i'm not sure why, but maybe something with strawberries in it — something alejandro would gag at. also enjoys dark coffee and will gladly drink it, just not as religiously as ale. rodolfo adores yogurt and fruit.

könig: something salty and a home dish. i done some research, and couldn't find a lot but i saw tiroler gröstl on a list and i think it might be something he'd enjoy. i can definitely see könig enjoying salty/savoury food more than sweet, although he does enjoy it a lot. he likes potato, bacon, onion and eggs and would eat it every now and then he can while on leave... probably enjoys eating leftovers from dinner or a takeaway.

[clairdelunelove]

Things Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley Finds Attractive About You Pt.III

simon 'ghost' riley x reader, mentions of soap, price, könig

genre: fluff

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, mentions of injury, ghost calls reader “ma’am” 

synopsis: just some more adorable things/quirks that you do that ghost can’t help but remember! headcanon edition! 

a.n. ahhh thank you all for 1k followers! to show my appreciation I wrote this! I was largely motivated because I saw a lot of ghost cosplayers at the convention I attended so hehe! >.<  here’s my kofi! pls consider donating so I can continue writing more consistently for our fav lieutenant! <3 

-

-

-

checking in on him even when you’re busy 

receiving– or rather earning– some type of injury while on the battlefield was bound to occur 

could be from stress fractures or muscle strains due to overuse 

some of the more common types of damage include ear, eye, and torso injuries 

unfortunately, during a mission ghost managed to slip into the line of fire at some point and suffered from a bullet grazing his forearm 

it was a meager laceration,, the only real worry was if it would get infected but could be easily fixed with proper bandaging and medicine 

nothing out of the ordinary 

in his opinion, the injury was more of an annoyance to deal with if anything because his superiors granted him “discretionary time” to tend to his injuries to avoid further mishap while the others were ushered away to debrief 

which meant he was stuck in his room 

and it’s incredibly monotonous– the bare walls only adding to his boredom when he knows the rest of the task force deals with the heap of paperwork expected after a strike mission

thumbing through debauched pages, he’s delved halfway into a nonfiction book when there’s a soft knock on his partially shut door 

he bookmarks the page by quickly pressing the corner of it down and reaches up to adjust the balaclava over his face so it’s secure

“enter.” 

after you were granted permission to come in, you nudge the door open with your shoulder and peek inside

he, truthfully, wasn’t planning on your appearance since your presence for debriefs was crucial and the stack of papers in your hand was confirmation for that 

ghost notices the curious swivel of your gaze,, how your forehead crinkles before regarding his seated form 

because he’s clad in his civvy clothes 

the charcoal-colored t-shirt made changing the dressing of his laceration easily accessible but the taunt material did little to hide his sturdy physique 

your eyes flicker to his crudely bandaged arm 

“need somethin’?” he asks while turning in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, “or just fancyin’ a chinwag?”  

his words are jaunty but the lack of his visible facial expressions causes the comment to transpire as standoffish because he recognizes the fidgety way your legs shift 

“heard you got nicked by a bullet so I sprinted here before going to the debrief,” you gesture to his injured arm, “had to see the anomaly myself.” 

he’s silent,, not because he isn’t fond of your companionship– quite the opposite 

forcing himself to be quiet awarded him the pleasure of hearing your cheery giggle after the snarky comment and he knowingly shakes his head 

“well you don’t seem to be too gutted by it,” he says to add to the sprightly atmosphere 

you hum softly and dare to step closer, “need to see it first, sir. so I know how to document such a rare occurrence.” 

it’s his turn to conceal a huff 

you gesture for him to outstretch his arm and there’s a moment of hesitation before he allows you to view the bandage over it 

“have a gander at it then.” 

he hardly hears you tsk about his inability of changing out the soiled gauze,, too fixated on the way your fingers skim across the expanse of his bare arm

helplessly, he silently pleads that you aren’t able to sense the goosebumps that erupt on his skin due to your touch 

“I have a bit of time before anyone knows I’m missing at the debrief,” suddenly the heavy gaze that ghost has on you causes you to shyly look away, “let me change your dressing before it gets infected.” 

he nods,, doesn’t trust himself to use words quite yet because he’s too infatuated with the way your eyes dart away just from his staring 

you ask where the sink is to which ghost offhandedly points at and allows his gaze to fully roam your retreating figure

and he watches 

doesn’t quite believe that you’re willing to dedicate some of your time, especially when your schedule is full– just for him 

the support and thoughtfulness of your actions isn’t unnoticed,, in fact he considers that he doesn’t deserve this good fortune 

but he’ll accept it because it’s from you 

once you’re back, he offers the first aid bin that’s laying out on the desk and you rummage through it before finding the appropriate materials 

you gently peel the sullied bandage away and your careful movements almost cause him to chuckle because the pain from the injury is essentially nonexistent to him now 

but he doesn’t disclose anything, just lets you tug his arm closer to you so you can work 

there aren’t any words uttered as you gingerly wrap his arm in a sterile dressing,, only your occasional warm breath on him from how closely you treated his wound 

swiftly securing the medical tape, you glance up at him from your finished work and a proud smile curls on your lips as you stand, “good as new.” 

he flexes his fingers, the act mostly done for your satisfaction, and murmurs a token of gratitude 

“brilliant work,” ghost tilts his head when you openly preen at his praise, “thanks, (y/n).” 

and he understands you have to go by the hurried sweep of your gaze to your wristwatch, but a part of him just wishes to keep you here with him 

your eyes seek for the wrapping around his arm,, only deviating to trail over to how the fabric of his shirt strains against it 

he’s aware of your ogling and simply adds fuel to the fire by rolling his broad shoulders for your intrigued gaze 

“your debrief,” ghost casually reminds and has to forcibly deter himself from shaking his head when you gasp, “before the bastards shit themselves if you’re not there.” 

“right, I should get going,” you’re about to gather your stack of papers to leave before evenly reprimanding to him, “and don’t forget to change your bandages daily, lieutenant.” 

and he’s not good at presenting his emotions– never has been exceptionally skilled at voicing his appreciation, respect, and thanks for you– but he was willing to give it a shot 

he sits himself straighter in his chair as his hand gently wraps around your wrist,, lightly tugging you back before you can shuffle away  

then, he answers you 

“yes, ma’am.” 

and from this angle, since ghost is still seated while you’re standing, his chin is raised to look at you 

and when you gamble a glimpse at him,, his eyes are already searching for yours 

your voice gets caught in your throat at the indebted glint in his eyes and how his pale eyelashes flutter when you take a step closer to him 

his thumb coolly brushes against your hand and the caress is enough for your ears to burn red 

no words are said but the recognition for spending your time to care for him is still astonishing 

because you can’t help but notice that ghost’s touch is incredibly gentle with you 

-

when you bite your lip 

it starts in the safehouse’s corridor 

the building was a checkpoint that the force adopted into a secret location,, a dingy refuge for regrouping and stashing away their equipment 

you and ghost were assigned lookout duty 

the two of you were huddled in the corridor,, crowding the entryway of the front door while the rest of the task force gathered in the main room 

since the mission was more than halfway completed, with little to no adverse outcomes, the force members’ spirits were uplifted (rightfully so) 

light chatter in the form of silly jokes or jovial teases did well to fill the silence within the small space

additionally, fizzy drinks and hearty snacks began to be tossed passed around by many of the recruits 

“catch, bonnie!” 

soap’s holler piques your attention,, and you shift to outstretch your arms just in time to catch an mre pack before it could squarely collide against the side of your head 

the sergeant utters a praise of, “nice catch,” before digging through the crate filled with more rations 

upon viewing the packet in your hands, you’re elated to discover that soap intentionally gave you your preferred meal and he grins crookedly at your realization 

shooting him a grateful smile, you tuck it under your arm for safekeeping before noting the switch in the recruits’ demeanor after witnessing soap’s toss to you 

devious grins are painted on many of their faces

“over here, soap!” 

one of the recruits affably raises their hand as a gesture to indicate where soap should toss the next mre packet at 

which happens to be across the entire room 

and just like that, the sergeant (along with the rest of the squad) transform into a bunch of schoolboys during playtime 

“yer a chancer, mate,” soap reels his arm back to throw the bag in his hand, “don’t say I didn’t warn ya!” 

flinging it overhead, soap erupts in laughter at the recruit’s wide eyes due to his strong throw 

it’s almost painful to witness as the newer recruit arises to their feet in a clumsy gait and you flinch away when their heavy boots hit the floorboards 

unfortunately, in their haphazard stride, they manage to actively knock into you and you’re sent reeling forward due to the momentum 

“oof–” 

“fookin’ rocket!” soap curses while he shifts in your direction in an attempt to check on you after your hiss of discomfort

but then the recruit holds up the tossed mre packet,, triumphantly waving it over their head with a broad smile on their face to indicate that the bag was caught 

and within a second the rest of the force followed suit,, the conformity almost eerie as grown men began to toss snacks to each other like it was a festivity 

thankfully there was one individual that displayed concern, or rather regard, for your wellbeing 

being pushed meant that you were at risk of collision and you’re met with someone wholly solid 

before words can even leave their lips,, the plastic buckles dug into your hands (an excessive amount of tactical gear) and overhanging shadow is a determining factor to guess who it was 

and it didn’t take long for your lack of awareness to catch up and reprimand you that both your hands are splayed across ghost’s chest 

when you dare to glance up, you note that he’s staring straight ahead,, scanning the surroundings past the building’s window 

the way his eyes narrow causes the eye paint that he smeared on to appear obsidian and sleek 

you force your gaze away from the detail 

he’s clearly focused so you figure that utilizing that factor can be beneficial in the sense where you can slide away and put some distance between the both of you 

before you can, however, you’re abruptly shoved closer to the lieutenant because of the other recruits’ continued recklessness 

your hand shoots out, a reflex so you can balance yourself from being pushed, when it pushes squarely on ghost’s chest again 

the material of his attire is thick underneath your grasp but you can distinctly sense the bundle of muscle from underneath the garment 

your fingertips skim across the entirety of his upper chest,, catching against the straps and buckles of his jacket 

another nudge at your lower back forces you to strongly tug at one of his jacket straps 

the upper half of his body jerks forward,, clearly not expecting the firm grasp 

a noise similar to a low, hoarse rumble leaves ghost’s masked lips 

“sorry!” 

your apology resembles a hasty squeak as you attempt to create some distance between the two of you 

but the noise he utters 

it wasn’t wholly carnal,, nor the simple sound of surprise 

more like a satisfied grunt that he couldn’t hold back 

mind in a whirl,, the tips of your ears burn red at the noise that your touch manages to pull from him 

his gaze, eyes half-lidded as per usual, is fixed on you while he remains silent 

the lack of response only adds to your embarrassment

tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you anxiously await his response 

seconds pass before he finally decides to speak and you watch as the lower portion of his balaclava shifts, “your hand.” 

it’s an observation but one that produces sparks of unwarranted desire,, especially due to the slow drag of his gaze that starts at your lips and ends at your hand on his chest 

he can’t help but just outrightly stare 

your lips were so glossy when he was this close,, the sheen discernable from how your teeth caught your bottom lip 

furrowing his brows from beneath his mask, he focuses on this newfound fixation and inwardly swears that your lips are tinted a deeper hue of rose than before 

and his mind is scrambling for words 

it’s impossible to formulate a coherent sentence having you firmly pressed up against him 

like your figure was designed to fit every bend and crevice of his body 

there’s excited chatter within the small space, fidgety nerves replaced by relieved cheers due to the new game of catch so you and ghost’s predicament is overlooked by the others 

almost like it’s just the two of you in this space and time 

and he doesn’t outrightly shrug your hand away,, in fact, he makes no effort to remove your touch at all 

just braces himself against the entryway and holds your wavering stare 

“I’m so sorry lieutenant,” you yelp out, shaken out of your trance, while essentially yanking your hand off of him 

he perceives your nervousness 

can see how you subconsciously wipe your sweaty palms against your outer thigh and clear your throat while properly standing upright

a glint overtakes ghost’s heady eyes,, not quite signaling that he’s entertained but rather amused from your behavior 

truth be told, he certainly wasn’t expecting to erupt in such a depraved noise just from your weak tug at his jacket

he was heaved closer to you,, involuntarily drawn into your proximity— affected by the warmth you emitted, your glittering eyes, and the way you instinctively bit your lip when you were pushed closer to him 

a minx is what you were 

one moment he was vigilantly peering out the window,, scouting for any suspicious activity and the next your hand was splayed on his chest 

so imagine the bewilderment when you were basically thrown onto him 

can’t really blame him for the unbecoming noise, can you? 

he shifts, balancing a majority of his weight on his right side, and clears his throat

it’s an action that serves to conceal the sudden warmth that creeps up his neck once he recognizes that there’s a slim chance you were able to hear him 

and ghost isn’t the type of guy to become downright opposed to being vocal but what astounded him was his inability to muffle the noise even from beneath his mask 

his logic fled in that moment,, mind clouded with the image of your shiny lips and wide eyes to where he was swayed to rely on inhibition 

“alright?” he questions while scanning you for any serious injuries 

you note that his misty eyes pay special regard to your lips 

“I am,” you answer, unable to stop a smile from forming, and gesture to the rambunctious group behind you, “just another one of soap’s games that’s got everyone excited.” 

there’s a beat of silence 

“you wearin’ gloss?” 

the inquiry almost causes you to heave over in laughter because never in a million years would you suspect an expert in clandestine tradecraft, sabotage, and infiltration to ask if you were wearing makeup 

but he just can’t help but ask! 

might combust if he doesn’t figure out why he’s so drawn to your plush lips 

he figures it might just be his curiosity that wishes to be fulfilled 

“oh,” your voice seeps of bashfulness as your fingers instinctively reach up to touch your lips, “sometimes. just to stop them from being chapped or dry.” 

but then he realizes he desperately wants to draw his thumb over your lips,, which couldn’t just be curiosity

perhaps a craving

he settles for a hum that could be described as consideration toward your answer 

you’re aware he wasn’t planning on elaborating so you casually add, “doesn’t really help though. my lips just end up looking drab.” 

an awkward chuckle, your own, is interrupted by ghost’s quick response, “that’s rubbish.”  

he’s back to staring out the window but his eyes aren’t narrowed in vigilance,, more unfocused and elusive from your searching gaze

and you expect his set jaw (you can see the sharp outline underneath his balaclava) is an indicator that he’s finished speaking as is the norm when conversations drift from the usual topic of tactical operations, equipment, and missions 

so the pleasant rumbling of his voice catches you unprepared for him to continue on 

“I think,” he pauses, gaze still averted but you watch as the bottom portion of his mask shifts like he’s pressing his lips together to think better of it 

yet, even with his initial hesitation, you’re left vulnerable to the admiration that rolls off his tongue 

“it’s bloody lovely.” 

-

listening carefully while he speaks 

it happened about two weeks ago when you and ghost were engaged in a conversation after sharing a meal at the mess hall 

and the topic was pleasant,, you carried most of the actual talking, seamlessly drifting to various details until he noted the prolonged absence of your voice 

basically inferred that it was his time to add some of his thoughts/feelings (which he was still familiarizing himself with!) 

hence, the topic of preparing/drinking tea was brought up 

you inquired about his preferences on tea because the beverage was often in the lieutenant’s hand in his spare time 

and of course he shared what he could,, slightly amused with your sudden interest in the options he shared

there was an attentive gleam in your eyes while he offered short answers to all your questions 

and he was forced to stifle a charmed huff when you whipped out a small notebook and started taking notes on his favorite flavors/any tips he could share  

but he didn’t contemplate too hard about this behavior since you had a reputation of listening and sharing whatever was on your mind,, even mundane topics 

until 

fast-forward to now where you stood with an outstretched hand toward him that held a container of loose tea leaves 

he had just stepped into the room,, finishing a debrief about a mission and he certainly wasn’t expecting your presence– much less witnessing you perched at the counter of the makeshift kitchen with a notebook in front of you  

haltingly, he glances between the container and you before simply raising a dark brow from underneath his mask to wordlessly question your antics 

he’s adapted to this display of behavior you share with him,, internally bewitched with the seemingly small gestures you do that signify so much 

“trying to make this,” you clarify while measuring some loose tea leaves and shooting him a lively grin, “according to your instructions, sir.” 

“fancy any help?” 

he didn’t ask to downplay your intentions,, genuinely chooses to offer his assistance because wishing to help you is in his nature 

you wave a nonchalant hand at the opened notebook in front of you and he recognizes that specific cover/bulk of it

the one from two weeks ago  

a quick glance at the writing sprawled within it has ghost affirming his assumption 

he doesn’t comment on it though,, only saunters to close the distance between the two of you and rests his back against the counter closest to you in order to observe your hesitant actions

and ghost is familiar with each and every step to prepare proper tea; memorized it like the back of his hand,, and could probably do it while sleeping too 

but it’s entertaining to see you try at a skill he’s already honed 

notices the slight tremble of your fingers due to his observant scrutiny and the last thing he wishes to do is cause you to be nervous when you were giving it your best effort 

so he figures chatting might help 

“keen on makin’ that for me, doll?” 

his eyes lower in satisfaction when he detects how your hand slips while filling up the kettle with water,, the nickname thwarting your concentration 

you turn away from ghost as you carry the kettle to the stove and flick on the fire so the water can boil 

“actually,” you make a show of pushing yourself up on your tiptoes and reaching for two colored cups that weren't his, “was planning to make tea for price and I.” 

and he’s aware it’s a lighthearted quip but he swiftly snatches one cup and raises his hand up to grab his plain white mug at the top of the cabinet 

at this angle, ghost is crammed into your proximity and you instinctively take a step back only for your back to knock into his broad chest 

the impact doesn’t phase him in the slightest 

all it does is create a pleased warmth to spread within him 

“reckon you meant you’d make one for me, isn’t that right?” 

it’s clear that his question causes your focus to waver as you eagerly lift your chin to stare up at him,, silently nodding in response 

he tilts his head at your overt obedience and expresses his appreciation 

“good,” his gloved hands offer two gentle taps to your hip, “carry on then.” 

his touch lingers a moment longer than necessary,, the heat rushing through your clothes and leaving you completely warm

pressing your lips together, you proceed to follow the instructions in your notebook, albeit a bit shakily due to ghost’s looming presence over you, but you managed to poor the boiling water over the tea leaves 

you wait 3-4 minutes, using your wristwatch to time it, which is the exact time that ghost previously told you he usually steeps his tea 

he continues to watch with his arms crossed over his chest as your brows furrowed in concentration while pouring the tea through a tea-strainer directly into the two cups 

“doin’ good, kid.” 

the rare praise motivates your movements to become steadier,, more relaxed even if your cheeks are flushed from the lieutenant’s approval 

ghost heeds your blatant regard for sticking to the exact order of what you outlined in your notes and the detail is almost adorable charming 

he admits that having someone listen– actively tune into his perspective/ideas– to him is new 

but it definitely isn’t unwanted 

it’s heartwarming,, the feeling encompassing his heart and riddling it exposed, defenseless, and vulnerable  

yet soft 

figures that the foreign sentiment is similar to delight 

your nimble fingers work to stir the tea within both cups,, offering ghost a spoon but he politely declines with a wave of his hand 

after polishing his cup (wiping any spills) you hand it to him with a beaming smile on your face and a hopeful twinkle in your eyes 

wrapping his hand around the mug’s handle, he nods to indicate gratitude for your hard work but waits,, earning him a confused pout from you 

“waitin’ for you, doll,” he clarifies so you don’t get the wrong impression, “get your cup.” 

“right!” 

you comply to ghost’s suggestion and grasp your cup with both hands to avoid accidentally tipping it 

the careful action doesn’t go unnoticed by him as his mask muffles a regaled huff 

then, he guides his own mug to gently clink it against yours and you catch how the lower portion of his balaclava shifts like his lips pulled into a content simper 

“cheers.” 

-

you lean on him for support 

this could be taken metaphorically since ghost is often depicted as a higher-ranking official and superior 

he’s there for support, guidance, or assistance! 

although he does struggle with providing emotional support for someone during difficult times, he does his best to practice 

knows that this line of work is mentally, physically, and emotionally draining 

and what kind of respectable officer would casually brush aside his comrades’ uncertainties? 

not ghost 

frequently finds that his ability to intently listen is more than enough support to his comrades that need to rant about the casualties of war or reminiscence about their personal lives before enlisting  

thinks it’s an important part of building trust within the task force,, which is crucial! 

but this wasn’t the type of ‘leaning on for support’ that I meant– it was literal 

as factual as the sleek marauder that you and a couple task force members reside in after a successful mission 

the task force’s mood is largely relaxed,, heavily eased demeanors serve as the reflection of it 

normally, loading so many recruits and equipment into a single vehicle wasn’t ideal (for movement and accessibility) but the completed mission was an exception to that 

plus, there was an unspoken consensus that everyone was too drained to uphold every strict rule 

the vehicle is driven by price, who has a casual hand on the steering wheel while recruits jostle their way into the back 

it’s a tight fit considering the load of equipment each person carries into the vehicle but you manage to squeeze into the backseat beside ghost 

he acknowledges your presence with a slight tilt of his head,, a gesture that’s courteous in most circumstances but now atypical with the hard mask obscuring his face 

the realization causes a corner of your lips to tug up into a grin 

“get in, lads!” 

with price’s command, more recruits hurriedly file into the vehicle with you and it dawns on you that there’s barely any room for you to maintain an appropriate amount of distance from ghost 

“I don’t think there’s enough room, captain,” you assert, scanning the larger recruits and their bulk of equipment 

all price does is offer you a breezy smirk through the rearview mirror while blowing out a hazy cloud of cigar smoke 

you place your hand in between you and ghost,, the action meant to anchor yourself to the seat and avoid accidentally sliding over into his personal space 

soap comments on occupying the passenger seat which he easily slides into with a dramatic exhale 

he doesn’t shift to close the front door though,, just allows enough time for the other recruits to settle in 

throwing a glance over his shoulder, his electric blue eyes skim the entirety of the backseat and knowingly shakes his head when he spots the gap that you desperately tried to retain

yet, it was evident that your physique was more petite compared to the weightier recruits that squished themselves next to you 

“make some room, will ya bonnie?” soap requests while motioning to another figure, “got to get this big guy inside the vehicle too.” 

peering through the window to where soap gestured to, your gaze settles on a torso clad in a heavy tactical vest equipped with various pouches 

specifically, the bottom half of someone’s frame 

the realization that you weren’t able to see their face while being seated in the car startles you 

because this person must be incredibly tall 

as if on cue, the person ducks their head to look within the vehicle and your scrutiny catches bright eyes from behind the black sniper hood 

there’s a moment of revelation between the two of you

könig’s awareness that your stare is trained on him is a bit slow 

he tilts his head, the dark cloth scrunching underneath his neck 

and the awe of seeing such an intimidatingly tall person with such a gentle gaze causes a wistful smile to dance on your lips 

the balance is remarkable 

upon noticing your tender smile, könig’s eyes widen before abruptly breaking the shared gaze 

his stare is skittish and darting as he undertakes the burden of looking everywhere except you 

ghost’s sharp eyes watch the entire encounter 

“come ‘ere.” 

signaling with a waved hand, ghost grants you permission to maneuver closer to him in order to make room 

and you’re about to retort but his firm stare is enough for your mouth to remain shut and wordlessly follow his command 

the act provides enough space for könig to scramble slip into the seat behind you which is the final cue for price to begin driving 

soap calls out a quick appreciation for your willingness to help before price revs up the engine,, everyone adjusting in their seats  

“danke.” 

the german phrase is barely audible over the clamor of the tires grating against the rubble on the ground yet your gaze finds könig’s in the rearview mirror 

you shoot him a hint of a smile, expecting his skittish regard, before settling comfortably in your seat 

rechecking the coordinates, price eases onto the coarse road while engaging in small talk with soap 

there’s a quiet lull within the vehicle,, a type of silence that accompanies the end of a mission and it’s highly welcomed after such a hectic time 

yet, ghost rumbles from beside you, “tryin’ to scare people, (y/n)?” 

he’s bringing up the encounter you shared with konig but there’s no bite in his voice

you recognize that this is his version of chitchat 

“not trying to, lieutenant,” you huff out an indignant breath

he decides to add another comment just for the sake of hearing the slight whine in your voice 

“glad to hear that,” he shifts to allow you more space to get comfortable, “because that’s my job.” 

his voice is barely a whisper to match the stillness within the car and the underlying taunt is tempting to dispute against 

“might just run you out of your job then, sir.” 

he turns in time to spot the beginnings of a mischievous smile on your face,, strong eyes finding yours through his pale skeletal mask 

and his slow, appreciative gaze drops to your lips 

“would like to see you try, pup.”

again, he gestures for you to scoot closer to him by coaxing you in a come-hither motion with his index finger 

you scoot until your thigh touches his and the contact causes his leg to jolt,, the reaction seemingly so abrupt that it stuns him too 

but he offers no verbal yelp, gasp, or sudden exhale from the physical contact 

from the corner of your eye, you watch as ghost’s dark eyes flicker to where both of your thighs meet,, and a devious idea pops into your mind 

just to provoke him even further,, you gather a majority of your weight by leaning and slumping against his side 

it’s a daring ploy since you’re aware of ghost’s reluctance to physical contact but he simply relaxes prior to stiffening at the initial touch 

the warmth enrapturing you is a rare comfort and you find yourself chasing after it by pressing your cheek against his upper arm to which he’s inclined to ask about 

“you enjoyin’ yourself?” 

because he knows that you’re deliberately leaning your entire weight against him 

and you’re not heavy by any means (this man is massively built!) so the idea that your mind would even conjure up that this would bother him is absurd 

ghost murmurs the inquiry while intentionally pressing his masked lips near the shell of your ear to keep his voice down,, putting in effort to not disturb the peace within the vehicle 

but if anything, the grumble of his voice only aids in drawing a dreamy exhale out of your lips and the airy noise is indecently alluring 

“enjoyin’ yourself while I’m bloody suffering,” he clicks his tongue, “this is classified as torture, innit?”

and even if his comment prompts a giggle from your lips,, he’s an inch away from losing it 

because it’s too much– the small space causing both of your breaths to intermingle, your soft body leaning against his, and how your half-lidded eyes are admiring him 

driving both of his feet against the floor of the vehicle, he pushes his hips up and attempts to adjust himself in the seat while fighting the budding desire that claws at him 

and honestly, he can’t fathom being able to tolerate this for the entire trip 

[hunterbunter3000]

Question

Whats everyones heights? It kinda get confusing can you help a Black person ineed?? 😭

LMAOOO

Dw friend I gotchu (and I'm sorry it's confusing 😥 i should've made it clear)

Disclaimer: Alot of the heights have changed from canon because I said so, and I really had to think on this because this is set in stone for rest of the time I write for Sweetheart 🤭 so I have to go back to edit some posts🧍‍♀️ LOL

Shortest to tallest-

Roach: 5'8

Rodolfo: 5'10

Soap: 5'11

Gaz: 6'0

Graves: 6'0

Horangi: 6'1

Price: 6'2

Alex: 6'3

Alejandro: 6'3 ½

Keegan: 6'4

Ghost: 6'4

Sweetheart: 6'5

König: 6'10

Krueger: 7'1

AND just to make things clear, I'll also go into the backstory (because I don't want people to be confused)

Task Force 141 consists of: Price, Gaz, Soap, Ghost, Sweetheart, Alex, Roach, Horangi, König

(Keegan comes and goes)

Shadow Company consists of: Graves, Krueger

Los Vaqueros consists of: Rodolfo, Alejandro

--

Sweetheart met the OG team (Price, Soap, Ghost, Gaz) when she was a Private, meaning she wasn't a Sergeant yet. She was so professional for a whole year 💀

It was filled of

Salutes and straight backs everytime one of them comes around her

"Yes sir, no sir"

Only calling them by their ranks and callsigns

Being nervous around them

No joking with them

She was so serious, it got on their NERVES

Price kept telling her that she was apart of the team, therefore you can CHILL THE FUCK OUT- but she was so nervous around all of them (because she looks up to them alot and wanted to impress them- especially Price and Ghost) they saw how relaxed and fun she was around the rookies and her other friends (which I will go into detail on another ask) Soap was so jealous when he saw her smile and laugh with her friends. Like why are you like this with them and not us? Are we doing something wrong? Do you not like us? Soap was going thru it, poor baby

Soap told his team what he saw, and Price was a bit hurt. Ghost thought he wasn't worth her time and got salty 💀 Gaz was sad (he was still intimidated by her, but he wanted her to be comfortable)

UGH they were in such a longing to be her friend and make her comfortable around them. It took a bit, but she finally joked and smiled around them- my God they loved it. (And then they see the real her and they all fall in love 🤭) it still took Sweetheart five months just to touch Ghost LOL

Before Sweetheart was going to be a Sergeant, she met Krueger (I went over how they met already) and Krueger was- yk... really infatuated with her. Like he was thinking about her all the time when he was still apart of Chimera. When that disbanded, he asked (threatened) Graves to be apart of Shadow Company. It took him a bit to find where Sweetheart was located, but when he found out he acted on it immediately.

Then König joined 141, then Alex and Roach, and then Horangi. As I said, Keegan comes and goes in the team. He joins the team in missions and then leaves to go do other things. What things? No idea.

She then meets Los Vaqueros during a mission (which I already talked about as well) and now they just-- live life and try to woo Sweetheart! The end ✍️

Again, I apologize if it was confusing. 141!Sweetheart is made with each ask I answer, so things keep adding on. But I hope this helps! 🙏🫂

[betweenstorms]

Simon Riley was always leaving.

It was the only constant in his life, deployment after deployment, mission after mission, the door closing behind him with the weight of silence, like clockwork. It was as ingrained in him as breathing.

He’d told you from the beginning that he wasn’t made for relationships. He wasn’t the type to just settle down, not with the kind of life he led.

Simon Riley—Ghost was a soldier first, always a soldier before anything else. He was bound to the duty that pulled him into the abyss time and again. Because he was a soldier before a lover, before a companion, before a man. And yet, there you were, lying beside him, not quite lovers, not quite strangers, but something in between.

It wasn’t a relationship, but it wasn’t a situationship either. It was a careful balance. It lingered in the spaces where definitions blurred.

It had started as something undefined, a hookup, a shared space in the aftermath of violence, when the weight of the world seemed to press down on his chest. But somewhere between his departures and returns, something soft had taken root.

The late-night calls after deployments, the sound of his rough voice like a whispered poem in the dark, tethered him to you when he was miles away. His touch, when he was home, lingered longer than it should have, fingers brushing your skin as if searching for something he couldn’t name, something neither of you dared say aloud. And in those fleeting moments of reunion, when his hazel eyes found yours, you could see it—longing, a tenderness that spoke of something more, something that never quite fit into the boundaries of what you were, but hovered just beyond, waiting.

Still, he never stayed.

From the moment you first let him into your life, into your bed, there had been an unspoken understanding between you.

Simon Riley wasn’t the kind of man you introduced to your mother over Sunday dinner. He wasn’t the kind you built a future with. He had told you as much—not relationship material, he’d said in that low, gravelly voice of his, the one that always seemed to carry the weight of unsaid things.

But that didn’t stop him from coming back.

Maybe it was the way you laughed when you were trying to hide your nerves, the way you teased him lightly without ever pushing too far. Maybe it was how, in the silence of your shared moments, you never demanded anything more than his presence. Whatever it was, it tugged at him, an unfamiliar gravity pulling him closer to you when he knew better than to get too close to anything.

There was something about you that made him want to stay.

A pull he couldn’t quite ignore, an instinct deep within him that whispered it was okay to rest beside you. You made him feel human. And that was dangerous. That terrified him more than any enemy he had ever faced.

It was a cold winter night, the kind where the world outside seemed frozen in place, as if time itself had stopped. The two of you were lying under a heavy blanket, the warmth of your bodies a sharp contrast to the chill that clung to the windows.

Simon had a cigarette between his fingers, the soft glow of the ember casting a faint light across his scarred face. You were curled up against him, your skin pressed to his, naked and warm, though the intimacy wasn’t just in the closeness of your bodies, it was in the silence between you, the quiet acceptance of this fragile connection. You watched him in the dimness, the lines of his jaw sharp against the shadows, his hazel eyes half-lidded as he exhaled the smoke slowly, deliberately.

You’d asked him before to stay—jokingly, of course.

It had always been a game, a playful tease, because you knew he would never agree. He had always brushed it off, his silence the answer you always expected. He was good at keeping himself distant. However, something in the cold of the night felt different. You felt a shift in the air, a gentle tension that lingered between you like the first breath before a confession.

So, you asked him again, your voice soft but joking. “Would it be too desperate to ask you to stay? Just this once? Please.”

You didn’t expect an answer.

Usually, Simon brushed it off, deflecting with a grunt, a noncommittal sound, something that left the question hanging unanswered in the air. He didn’t do relationships, he didn’t do staying. It wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t built for it. So you thought he’d just ignore you, like he always did, maybe pull you closer and kiss the question away.

But tonight, he didn’t do any of that.

He exhaled slowly, the smoke slipping from his lips like a secret too heavy to keep. His eyes, usually so guarded, so unreadable, turned to you, and there was something different in his dark gaze—something softer, something almost vulnerable. His hand, rough and calloused, reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, the touch so gentle it sent a shiver down your spine. He looked at you for a long moment, as if weighing his next moves carefully.

Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, he answered you.

He was going to stay.

It wasn’t a grand gesture, not a sweeping declaration or an outpouring of affection. It was Simon Riley in his purest form.

A simple nod, small but extremely significant, heavy with meaning that stretched far beyond words. It was a promise unspoken, a shift in the very foundation of who he was. His hazel eyes locked onto yours, and in that quiet acknowledgment, you felt the pressure of it settle between you.

For the first time, you felt the weight of his presence in a way that wasn’t heavy with the threat of departure. He was here, and he was staying, not because he had to, not because you asked, but because he wanted to. And that, more than anything, filled you with a warmth that outshone the cold night outside.

betweenstorms (next) (masterlist)

[thephant0menace]

| Captain John Price head cannons

Being in a relationship with Price

Warnings: fem!reader x Price, strong language, mentions of sex, oral sex, dilf price😏

This man wakes up ridiculously early.

For no reason at all…just likes an early start.

Although the military does train you to do so.

He enjoys working out in the morning then making coffee and reading the newspaper, quite possibly also having a quick smoke…I mean it’s Price, what did you expect?

Old man core💖

Because of this you’ve developed a similar life style.

Wake up with him, work out and then enjoy an early breakfast, curled up with him while he flicks through the newspaper.

Price is a very affectionate man when it comes to you.

He enjoys cuddling with you and just laying in bed together.

He likes having you curled up on his chest.

The soft skin to skin contact is very soothing and therapeutic for him.

Especially after a long and intense mission.

It’s very relaxing to have you cuddled up to him while the adrenalines still pumping through his veins.

He’s the type to walk around with no shirt on for the good majority of the day.

No shirt, just sweatpants.

I don’t think anyone’s complaining though…

This man was destined to be a dad.

10/10 dilf material.

He does the little dad stance while watching the tv.

HE WILL NOT SIT DOWN.

Just stands there quietly and watches whatever’s on.

“John, darling, you know you can sit and watch with me…”

“Nah, nah, ‘bout to have a shower.”

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

“I know.”

If you have kids, when he’s working out the kids will sit on his back while he does push ups.

They find it absolutely hilarious.

He adores his kids.

100% has photos of them in his wallet and vest pockets to show off to 141.

He’s just as bad, if not worse, with the dad jokes as Simon.

John loves taking you on romantic dates whenever he can.

He’s a very romantic man when it comes to you.

Especially after he’s been away for so long.

Even if it’s just at home…he loves to spoil you.

He’s really good at planning nice dates for the two of you.

And he goes all out as well…

Fancy dinner, red wine, candles lit, lighting dimmed, and then good sex.

Price is a proud pussy eater.

He absolutely loves eating you out and will do it for hours and hours on end if you let him.

“Fuck, John. Please-“ you whine out, tugging at his hair.

You were so overstimulated, you had lost count of how many orgasms John had pulled from you at this point.

“Just one more, darlin’. You can do it.” He mumbles into your clit.

He also has a thing for leaving beard burns in between your thighs.

He thinks it makes you look impossibly more sexy, in addition to the pretty little love bites he leaves trailing up your thighs.

A/N: I’m very tempted to do a seperate list of headcannons of the cod boys with kids cause omggg. But let me know what you guys want.

ALSO!!!! A little notice because I’ve started a Post+ for anyone interested in some bonus content. I’m currently working on a special mini fic of Ghost which is very exciting. I’ll release a teaser soon for anyone interested.

Hope you guys are all doing super well, love you lots <3

[the-whispers-of-death]

I don't think the boys would like melt if you squished their cheeks (face cheeks, stay with me in SFW land. /lh) together and cooed at them (because cuteness aggression), but I do think they'd let you do it.

Price would raise an eyebrow and ask what brought this on. But he'd hold his head still so you could keep squishing his cheeks.

Soap would 100% squish your cheeks together after you have your fill, because you're just as cute (maybe even more) as he is. You're going to be told how cute you are a lot after this.

Gaz leans into your touch and then kisses your hands. He hums in agreement when you call him cute, complimenting you back because you deserve it.

Ghost barely does anything in response to it, but at least he wouldn't move away from you. He's might never let you do this again, so get your fill of this as much as you can.

[your-local-simp-writers]

Unexpected

Word Count: 406

Warnings: None

Soap x Fem! Hispanic! Wife! Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The engines of the C-130 Hercules cut through the silence of the airstrip, heralding the return of Task Force 141 from a grueling mission. Among the crowd, a lone figure stood out—Y/N, Soap’s wife, her vibrant presence a stark contrast to the military precision around her.

As the soldiers filed out, the air was thick with anticipation. María’s heart pounded in her chest, her eyes eagerly searching for Soap. When he finally emerged, her joy was uncontainable. She dashed towards him, her laughter echoing across the tarmac. “¡Mi amor, te extrañé tanto!” she exclaimed, leaping into his arms.

The members of TF-141 halted in their tracks, their battle-hardened facades crumbling in disbelief. Ghost’s eyebrow arched behind his mask, Roach’s mouth agape, and even Price’s eyes softened, a rare occurrence. They had faced countless dangers together, but this was uncharted territory. They exchanged glances, each silently asking the same question: “Soap’s married?”

“So, lads,” Soap began, his voice betraying a hint of bashfulness, “this is the better half I’ve been keeping secret. Y/N, these are the brothers I’ve told you so much about.”

María beamed, her energy infectious as she greeted each member with a warm embrace and a flurry of Spanish. “¡Hola! Soy Y/N’s, es un honor finalmente conocer a los amigos de mi esposo,” she said, her words flowing like a melody.

The men of TF-141, known for their stoicism, found themselves at a loss, charmed by her vivacious spirit. Ghost, usually a man of few words, found himself engaging in a playful banter, while Roach couldn’t help but chuckle at Soap’s evident pride.

Ghost’s usual reticence gave way to a rare chuckle. “Never thought Soap would manage to keep a secret this delightful,” he remarked.

Price, ever the leader, stepped forward. “Well, I’ll be,” he said, his voice gruff with a hint of amusement. “Soap, you’ve outdone yourself. She’s quite the gem.”

As the evening unfolded, Y/N’s laughter became the soundtrack of their reunion. She listened intently to their stories, her eyes alight with admiration, and they, in turn, saw a new side of Soap—a man deeply in love, his heart belonging to the spirited woman who had effortlessly woven herself into the fabric of their tight-knit group.

The TF-141 left that night with a new story to tell—not of war, but of the unexpected joy found in a comrade’s hidden life, a reminder of the world worth fighting for.

[eiraeths]

do you guys want some of my cod 141 headcanons you’re getting them anyways

SOAP

-puts stuff in his mouth a lot to hold it when he runs out of hands (this includes when he’s making explosives, it stresses everyone out)

-gets cute aggression and bites people

-will also bite in a fight

-has bits and pieces of rubble from explosions that he thought looked pretty

-is feral, like he takes a hit to the face during a spar and grins with blood trickling into his mouth

-had a graffiti phase as a teen that never fully left and because of it he writes in all capital letters. this is great when they need something written down where no one can read it. (the 141 probably had a meeting where they went over how to read his handwriting)

-has dreams so realistic he wakes up confused wondering if it was a memory he forgot about even if it didn’t make sense

-military grade anger issues

-never fully grew out of his punk phase

-his childhood room was full of road signs and traffic cones

-is actually a hardass when it comes to training recruits (i think the proper term for privates in the sas is troopers but im calling them recruits cause that seems to be the term everyone uses)(everyone thought his bright attitude meant that he’s laid back and easygoing. no. he’s not. yall ever seen those videos of drill sergeants coming up with the most creative insults? thats him)

-randomly says “i am normal and can be trusted around military grade weapons”

-his journal from the og games is a must in the remaster sorry i don’t make the rules

GHOST

-can play guitar super fucking well, im talking full on fingerstyle ballads

-major staring problem, if he doesn’t want to talk to someone he’ll stare until they go away. sometimes stares at people for no reason. also stares when he wants something. he’s always watching.

-would be interested in getting into blacksmithing if he didn’t grow up poor and hates spending money on himself that isn’t out of necessity (seriously you need like 30k to start a forge)

-can and will obsess over damascus patterns in blades (i feel like his favorite pattern would be fish bone or those really complicated mosaic patterns. he gets soap into it too by showing him fireball patterns)

-never grew out of echolalia and because of this is amazing at mimicking noises (he mimicks smoke alarm battery low noises and phone chimes to troll people sometimes.)

-road rage, but its quiet fuming comments that make you grip the oh shit handle for dear life (“you better turn off your fucking highbeams or i can’t be blamed for the head on collision that’s about to happen”)(no one can tell if he’s serious or not)

-hates tin foil, hearing it or touching it makes him clench his jaw because it feels like he can feel it in his teeth

-secret sweet tooth, but it comes and goes. sometimes he’s disgusted by anything sweeter than white bread and other times he can fuck up an entire box of lil debbie cakes

-can hand sew efficiently and fast as fuck

-his favorite type of blanket is a heavy quilt

GAZ

-is aggressively hydrated and is one of those people who carry around those big 128 oz water bottles

-gets competitive over karaoke (it took him months to convince everyone to join and he only got the idea after finding out soap wanted to be in a band as a teen and that he spent days learning how to properly vocal fry)

-says WOO! when he’s super fucking excited (will throw his arms up as well if soap is around because the two of them are an echo chamber of emotion)(the WOO! might actually be canon theres a voice line in warzone)

-probably the most up to date on modern fashion trends (get this man a long cashmere coat he deserves it)

-he does own a bedazzled cap he found at a gas station though (it’s hideous)

-elaborate skin care routine (he’s conned everyone to have some sort of routine. especially ghost. he got so concerned when it hit him that ghost was always wearing the eyeblack)

PRICE

-listens to black label society (i won’t budge on this its not even a head canon to me anymore its fact it was revealed to me in a dream)

-plays solitaire (he’s a very high level and it took him less than a year to get there. no one knows where he found the time to play for that long)

-drives a manual and shames people who don’t know how to work a stick

-literature nerd (im talking all the classics and philosophy books this man can get his hands on)

-discovered tennessee moonshine and has thought about it ever since

-smacks people on the back of the head when they’re doing something stupid

-if anyone makes a negative comment on his facial hair he gives them the dirtiest side eye

GEN/MULTI

-gaz and soap carry those big contractor waterproof sharpies and leave gaz was here or soap was here everywhere they go (this stemmed from soap’s graffiti phase and gaz turned it into a competition. they once got into a competition on who could leave the most signs until price called them muppets and confiscated their sharpies)

-ghost put soap in air jail once, it was very effective

-gaz and soap go to the gym together and take photos in the mirrors after they’re done (somewhere there’s a photo of the time they got ghost to join and they even got him to flex an arm)

-ghost and soap are professional assholes to each other.

-none of the 141 are allowed play card games and gamble with each other because they’re all dirty charlatans

-price tried to stop smoking only once and carried around gum and peppermints. ghost stole the peppermints and soap wouldn’t stop asking for gum

-gaz and ghost are the only ones who really try to adhere to the lights out rule. price and soap can be seen drinking coffee throughout the day

-all of them can hold a grudge for life

-ghost clears his throat loudly when any of them smoke by him. or stares. depends on the say

-if any of the smokers see another outside smoking and decides to join them it turns into a drawn out conversation about the most mundane topics

-the 141 can have full conversations of pure sarcasm nons

[blingblong55]

Doll- Professor John Price NSFW

F!reader, smut, p-in-v, unprotected sex, dom!Price, sub!reader, 18+, MDNI, professor!Price, student!reader, corruption kink, virgin!reader,

It started as innocent stares between you and your professor. The usual praises he'd give you after you answered one of his questions correctly. The innocent hand touches when he'd hand you your report back but it all soon led to him and you, sneaking out of town and to the city to carry out the illicit affair.

He is a married man, a family man and a professor at your University. You met him during class and thought he was one of the much older students but to your surprise, he introduced himself as your professor. It was months before you were forced to participate in his classroom. You'd always sit in the front row but all the way to the corner, looking down and just listening. You were never like that before, you'd always answer questions, look at your professor and participate in class. One day he asked your other professor if maybe you were like this in their class and to his surprise you weren't.

In his head, he thought he was either despised by you or that his class wasn't interesting enough. And that's when it all started. After class, you packed your bag and as you were about to stand up and leave, he called out for you. "R/N, stay after class. We need to talk."

It wasn't your grades, attendance or even any lack of respect, so why was he asking for you to stay? When everyone was gone from class, you walked to his desk, "Professor?" you shyly spoke, ready for some explanation from him. "R/N, am I not a good professor?" He asked, writing something on paper and then looking back at you.

"No, no I don't think you are. In fact, you are one of my favourites." It was true, the way he spoke and presented any material was impeccable, something no other professor on campus had done before. He nods a small smile of relief on his lips. "I was worried there since you are the only student in my course who never participates, you just sit there, as if you were a painting." His eyes wander to yours.

"You know, you are an interesting student," he adds. You stare at him in confusion, what could he ever mean? "Pardon me, I don't think I understood-" but before you could finish your sentence he cut you off. "Other female students wear skirts, open their legs for me to see as I lecture the class but you..." he sighs a chuckle. "You are so...pure so innocent and I'd like to change that." Your eyes fluttered, not understanding what exactly he was getting at. "I...I don't think this is appropriate-"

"Maybe it isn't but I like innocent girls like you, shy, smart and clueless over the fact I am giving you an opportunity to not just exceed in my class but an opportunity to have fun...actual fun." He leans back in his seat and manspreads. It is true, you aren't exactly experienced but are also aware of the fact you both could get into trouble for such 'fun'. "I'll give you until next week to think about that, love. Until then, just make sure you complete the assignment and if you need help, my office is always open." You nod and walk away from his class.

For the entire week, you kept replaying the encounter. If you agreed and he was fooling around, then would you be in trouble? You finished his assignment and then stared at the reflection in the mirror. What could he possibly want from you? If it is true that girls wear skirts and open their legs for him to see during lectures then why not them? Was he really wanting to change the fact you are much more innocent than those girls?

Tuesday noon came along and you found yourself back in his classroom. Sat in the same seat and took your notes as usual. His lecture was the same, except this time, he called on you to answer the question of the day. "Miss R/N, seems today is your day, so tell me, what do you think about the question?" He walked to you, a small smirk for you to see. Your cheeks flushed, "I think that if he wasn't so full of himself maybe he could've seen him and his people victorious. He made a mistake when he agreed to the treaty but of course, he just wanted praise from the Gods." You say and look back down to your notebook.

"And that is why ladies and gentlemen, the quiet students are always the ones I know will surprise me the most." You look back at him and he winks, only for you to see. And as last time, he asked you to stay behind, locked the doors and made sure all of his other students were gone. You are by his desk, he looks up at you, clearly already wanting an answer. "I'm not sure if it's right for us-"

"No one will know, we can skip this place and head to the city, have fun on our own. C'mon darling, I need this...you do too." His voice is full of lust and desperation. The look he gave you, that's what sealed the deal, a man's eyes can tell more than the lips that lie the truth. In that instant, he knew you agreed. His hands finally travelled to your hips, bringing you closer to him. "Such a pretty thing you are. So innocent and delicate and you know what I do with innocent and delicate things?"

"What?" your voice soft and filled with curiosity. "I corrupt it, mould you into my perfect toy." His fingers at the buttons of your trousers, he played with them and soon sat you down on his lap. His lips teased your neck, nibbling at the soft skin. "Such an angel for such a monster to destroy." His hands are now inside your trousers, teasing your now wet cunt. "Tell me, are you a virgin? Better not lie, doll." You wouldn't know how to answer such a question but all you do is nod in embarrassment. "I'll change that, doll." his lips meeting yours.

Around 7 pm, he had led you to his car, you in the passenger seat and he in the driver, hand on your thigh as he drove off to the nearby city. What was it of him that had you so attracted? Could it be the way he speaks to you? The look in his eyes whenever he looks at you and only you, maybe that is what has you here, begging and desperate to be touched by a man. Being a virgin and in Uni was something different than from being a teenager, this time, things can get more exciting. Especially with him.

A hotel room, that is where all the passion-filled nights happen. One bed, two hearts, two bodies, two mouths, one activity. Sin, that is what you were doing every time you gave yourself to him, a married man, with kids and a perfect life. And somehow you were squeezed in to make that perfect like interesting. Once in the room, that's where it all actually started.

Lips on your neck, teasing your soft skin, leaving marks of where he took you in for the pleasure no one else could have. "Professor-" you breathe out, trying to control your feelings as he is about to make you his for the night. "John, call me John when we're alone." He guided you to the bed, lips never leaving your skin. The hunger in lust wished he could teach that lesson next week. Because why do you feel the need to give in and not be afraid of the bite it could take? His hands were at your waist, tugging the thin cloth that kept him from having you completely. Lips on lips, kissing and feeding the hunger that had been building up for months, well, hours for you but months for him.

Soon, you were pushed to the bed, and he climbed on top of you, shirts getting off skins, trousers on the floor. Now you were at his mercy and he was ready to take anything you were offering. "Just relax, love." His voice is low as he kisses your stomach, trailing down to where he has been wanting to touch for a time now. His fingers teased your panties, squeezing all he could, earning moans from you. You were already wet but he was sure wanting more than just that. He slowly and teasingly removed your panties, kissing your legs as the drenched panties left your body. His hands making sure to open your legs for him, his boxers off. His already aroused tip playing with your cunt.

"Oh...god you have such a pretty cunt." he leaned down, kissing and fingering your already wet and aching cunt. You moaned and whimpered, begging for more. He pins your legs down, fingers fucking into you, opening you for his thick cock. You bite your lower lip, not wanting to moan any louder, afraid of what could be heard. His tongue graced your sensitive parts, hands on your thighs. "You taste like heaven my sweet doll." His voice was low with a hint of a growl. You gripped the sheets, head thrown back, a knot at your stomach and when you thought that wasn't enough pleasure, he pressed down on your stomach, making that soon orgasm feel even more intense.

"F-fuck! Oh...oh fuck...please...i...ah..i" words cut off any time he trusted his fingers into you. At the time you were about to cum, he stopped, which left you whimpering and whining for him. Your hips moved, trying to get off from his knee which was now positioned at your entrance. He reached for his bag, the same one he would take to class. He took some ropes, a ball gag and a blindfold out. A sinister smile on him as he showed them to you. "They'll look so pretty on you." He tied your ankles to each side of the bed, making sure there was nothing left to hide from him. Two pairs of handcuffs are what kept you all night from even daring to touch yourself. The ball gag on your mouth but not before he could have a heated make-out session with you.

The blindfold was on you, trying to surprise you when he took out the nipple clamps. Placed them on your already sensitive but hardened nipples. You moan from both pleasure and pain, the gag ball muffling some noises and words. He chuckles, leaving them on and beginning to finger you once more. He laid down, licking and tasting your sweet cunt. The way it pulsated, the way you clenched it and how tight you were, only made him understand why you were the perfect doll for him.

Once he knew you were ready to take him, he slowly began to open you up with his long and thick cock, you moaned and tears ran down your cheeks. "Shhh, it's okay...it'll hurt for a second but I promise I'll feel good after." He kisses your neck and wipes your tears away. Kissing your professor was one thing but losing your virginity to him, being this vulnerable around him? That was the perfect formula for chaos.

You breathed in slowly, trying to relax, his hand on your chest, "That's my good girl. You'll be just fine, I promise." He once more slid himself inside of you, doing so carefully, Tears ran down your cheeks, and your tight cunt getting used to his size. His thrusts were very gentle and slow. Your moans are loud and quiet, more tears running down from how much he had already overstimulated you before. "Oh...fuck doll,.." his hands on your hips, guiding himself into you.

You throw your head back, his fingers once more making sure you can't remember your name. His thick cock getting milked by your tight cunt, the one he was ready to mould into his perfect toy. Soon when he knew you had gotten used to the feeling, he began to thrust faster and deeper, which only made your moans get louder. The headboard hit the wall behind, letting others know he was already making you his. The nipple clamps work their way as he spits on them, and fingers your nipples. You whimper the blindfold off as soon as he wants you to watch him fuck you.

Your brows furrowed, the orgasm coming closer and closer. Your eyes roll back, just what he wanted, you gasp and moan. He presses your stomach down, making you feel more intense, your body aching, wanting release now. "Please please please...ah... I... I..so close!" But he already knew that, he just wanted to cum inside as you came on his cock. Once he was ready to cum, he began to slap your already reddened face, a hand on your neck, choking you for pleasure. "Cum R/N, you need to cum now, doll." That was enough to have your legs shaking, you, gasping, moaning and screaming his name.

At that moment, he knew he had found the perfect doll for him, ready to be pleased to give pleasure. As you came off your high, he slowly untied the ropes, the ball gag thrown to the floor, and the nipple clamps slowly removed from you. You whimper a little, as he cleans your legs from the mess you both made. He places a blanket over you, kissing your shoulders and lips as he praises you. "You did such a good job for me, my doll." He kissed your hand, bringing you close to him.

Your head on his chest, what a time to be alive. He played with your hair, kissing the top of your head or kissing your forehead when you looked at him with those innocent eyes. Soon, he wanted to change that look. "My doll, we'll have to do this more often." But it wasn't a request, more like a notice of what he'll have you do. No way he would let you say no, not after tonight.

For weeks to come, he bought toys for you both, vibrators, he'd use during class to bring the attention to him. The skirt he made you wear every time he taught you and how he would make you wear lingerie underneath. He always instructed you to sit in the back with your legs open, wanted to have a view of who was going to help him have a release or the reason why his car would have foggy windows. He fantasised about you even with his wife and with her, he always wore protection, never with you.

Your neck is littered with hickeys from the previous night or weeks. The lies you both have told family and friends, all for the best affair of his life and for the best nights of your life. If he wanted you on your knees, there you'd be, serving him as the perfect submissive pet he had turned you into. It made him laugh at times, how easy you were to manipulate into what he wanted. You are his doll, for him and him only to play with.

A/N: okay but...I think its the first smut i write that is kinda long

tags: @liyanahelena