#silly silly soap

[kalm5]

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick likes to find the weird unique places to try in different cities in which he drags the rest of his teammates from Taskforce 141. If the group refuses he just puppy eyes the captain and crumples real hard like a piece of paper!!!

This led to the group to an eclectic tea and bake shop. Much to the dismay of one Soap MacTavish who muttered ‘Fucking Brits’ under his breath. Ghost, Price and Gaz ordered standard brews of tea. While Soap decided on getting a Yorkshire Gold Fog whatever that meant.

When they got served they all had different mugs. After a couple of sips Soap noticed the design on his mug.

“Hey it the LT.,” said the high energy demolitions expert.

The group look at him very confused. What the hell did Soap mean. Then he moved his mug for everyone to see.

Amongst the clear glass were a bunch of ghosts.

“See the Lt is on the mug,” smiling away.

Of course Gaz and Price were trying to hold their laughs in. Ghost wasn’t happy seeing the little ghosts on the mug. If stares could kill people Soap was dead a few times over.

“Really Johnny,” muttered Ghost.

It ended up being a real good outing!

(This was sort of funny in my head….)

[kalm5]

This has me absolutely DEAD!!!!!!!!!

The mohawk of a dude could have taken a picture with a phone but no he sketches the damn scene!!!

I feel like Ghost would be absolutely tickled with this!!!

Just sniper things 🐦 (low stakes mission)

[accecakes]

Soap didn’t cut his hair while way. Ghost hopes he never cuts it again <3

[technically-human]

He likes the drama

[hatsbuckets]

Imagine Ghost accidentally conditioning the 141...

Ghost is busy. Always. Too much paperwork, too many reports, too many logistics to handle before training. It’s 1400 before he realizes he’s skipped lunch. Again.

Not a big deal. Not the first time. Won’t be the last.

But he is hungry.

His eyes land on the bright pink bag of Valentine’s Day mini Snickers that’s been sitting, untouched, on his desk for a week. They were part of a bulk shipment to the base; some gift or something.

Not exactly lunch. But it’ll do.

He grabs the bag and heads for the training field. He’s two minutes late, not that it matters much because Soap and Gaz already have the unit ready.

"Where’s Price?" he asks, tearing open the bag as he walks up.

"Got pulled away. You’ve got this one, Sir," Gaz replies, raising a brow as Ghost lifts his mask just enough to pop a Snickers into his mouth.

Ghost doesn’t react, just grunts.

Today’s drill is a simple infiltration exercise. Hell, it's something Ghost or Price hardly have to be here for. Their presence would be more of a formality. Gaz leads the attackers. Soap leads the defenders. The teams get ten minutes to plan, to prep.

And then Ghost sounds the time up, and the groups move.

Ghost watches, leaning against a crate, chewing another Snickers, barely paying attention to one of the new guys—until the kid steps right into a trap. Ghost sees it before he does.

Blue powder erupts into his face.

Soap’s defenders descend, but the kid doesn’t go down easily. Blind, but still fighting back, holding his own until his team pulls him out.

Soap's team wins. Barely.

When it’s over, the teams regroup. Ghost is still eating Snickers.

He turns to the recruit, still dusted blue.

"What 'appened?"

"Didn’t see the wire." The kid shifts uncomfortably.

Ghost turns to the unit. "Who set it?"

One of the defenders raises a hand. Ghost considers him for a moment before reaching into the bag.

He tosses a mini-Snickers at the soldier.

The guy catches it. Looks at it. Looks at Ghost. Eats it.

Ghost turns back to the newbie. "Held your own. Tha' matters. Surprises happen. Don’t let ‘em get you again."

And that’s it. Training’s dismissed. Ghost pockets the rest of the Snickers and moves on.

...

The next day, Price is still gone. Ghost doesn’t skip lunch this time, but he still brings the Snickers bag.

They run the same drill.

Same recruit. Same route. But this time, he checks everything. Quick. Efficient. Finds the wire. Disarms it.

No blue powder today.

Gaz’s team wins.

Ghost eyes the recruit and flicks a Snickers at him. The kid catches it mid-air.

...

By the end of the week, Price is still gone. Ghost keeps the pink bag of Snickers on him during training. Like it's just another part of his kit.

One or two mini snickers get handed out every session. And nobody really notices at first. But the team starts moving differently.

They work harder. Smarter. More ruthless. More efficient. No one wants to be the guy who doesn’t get a Snickers.

Even the veterans sharpen their tactics. Gaz and Soap notice. But no one says a damn thing. If Ghost is going to give them snickers, then shut the gel up and let him give them snickers.

...

They're sent on a mission. High stakes.

They don't lose a single man. Not a single injury.

At the end of it, back on their transport home, Ghost pulls the pink danm bag from some unassuming pocket and hands out the snickers.

The men take them without question. They earned it.

But Ghost is running low. The bag nearly empty.

...

At the next training, Ghost doesn't hand out a single snickers. Not on purpose, but the bag is empty, so there's nothing left to do.

But the others notice. Gaz squints. Soap looks like a confused dog. Head tilt and all. The newbies glance at each other, shifting.

...

Two days later, Ghost swings his door open at 0600 sharp—and pauses.

Sitting just outside his door, neat as you please, is a bag of mini Snickers. Not the Valentine’s ones anymore. Just regular.

Ghost blinks. Hums. Pleasantly surprised, he picks up the bag, inspecting it briefly before stuffing it into his tac vest like it’s just another piece of gear.

He doesn’t think much of it. It’s a good snack.

At training, he does as he always does. Watches. Observes. Evaluates.

And then, without thinking, he tosses a Snickers at a recruit who clears a building faster than expected.

He snaps to attention as he catches it, eyes shining. Ghost does not question it.

The pattern continues.

And when he starts running low, Ghost finds a fresh bag of Snickers waiting for him.

Somebody—somewhere—has decided that the Snickers will not run out.

...

At training, at drills, in the field, there is a silent expectation. A new, unspoken rule. Do something exceptional? Get a Snickers.

The machine of the 141—the deadliest operators in the world—now snaps to attention at the crinkle of plastic.

They move with a ruthless kind of precision, bodies coiled, eyes sharp—waiting, anticipating.

Even Gaz and Soap are part of it now—though everyone refuses to acknowledge it outright.

But the moment Ghost hands one of his men a Snickers, he takes it.

Silently. Gratefully. Like a goddamn reward.

Ghost does not acknowledge this. Not out loud. But he keeps handing them out.

And they keep earning them.

They'd quite literally kill for a Snickers. (imagine what they'd do for an expensive piece of chocolate)

...

And then Price comes back three weeks later. He walks into the training area and pauses.

Something is off.

The unit is too sharp. Too focused. The newbies stand stock still in their group, as if waiting for something.

Gaz and Soap exchange a look. Soap refuses to meet Price’s eyes.

But he doesn't acknowledge it, until he begins unwrapping a plastic sleeve holding a new pen. The plastic is thick and loud. And half of their fucking head snaps his way. The hungry eyes of three dozen of soldiers latching on him.

Ghost, standing at the edge of the group, tears open a fresh bag of Snickers.

And now the entire fucking unit reacts. Subtle shifts in stance. Focused attention. Expectant silence.

Price squints. Frowns.

Ghost flicks a Snickers at a recruit. He earned it today.

The recruit catches it like it’s a holy offering and eats it immediately.

Price’s frown deepens. Slowly, carefully, he turns to Ghost. “The fuck did I miss?”

[rosegolden13]

You had long since lost track of what Captain John Price was yelling in your face. Yes, you had almost gotten yourself killed on the latest mission. Did you regret it when you realized you’d have a limp for a bit? Yes. Did you regret it now, hearing that gruff accented voice directed at you? Hell no.

Even during debriefs, you could get lost in the gentle rumble of his voice. But this right now was something different. His words were biting, filled with an intensity that you normally only saw in the midst of missions- not on base and not directed at you.

You bit down on the soft plush of your bottom lip and a moment of silence settles over you. His icy blue eyes bore into yours. It’s like staring down a dog that’s about to snap its teeth at you again. Needing to fill the silence, you gave a quick response, “What was that last part, sir?” This’ll piss him off more but that’s what you want.

He stares at you a moment, processing your audacity before exploding once again. “Bloody fuckin’ hell, Sergeant! You don’t listen to me here, you don’t listen to me on the field. It’s a fuckin’ miracle you’ve survived this long. Pull that shit again, I dare ya, girl. What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice is a low growl as he steps closer, like he’s about to reach for the back of your neck and jostle some sense into you.

Your cheeks are flushed at this point. There’s no denying that or the subtle ache between your legs. You let out a slow breath, spotting movement in your peripheral and meeting Soap’s gaze. He seems to see right through you, a cocky smirk on his face. “She’s got the hots for ya, Cap’n. Tha’s wha’s wrong with her.”

Price stares at you a moment more, completely taken aback as he reassesses you. And then he turns around, muttering something about not getting paid enough. You stand there mortified before chasing off after Soap to berate him for outing you like that.

[disgustingtwitches]

threesome with Kyle and Johnny and you are reminded that Johnny is so smart he's stupid:

Soap: can I finish inside you

You: yeah I have an IUD

Soap: you got a bomb in your pussy?

Kyle: that's an IED you absolute clownshoe

...

Kyle: you are a demolitions specialist

[guhbwuh]

more seal soap, but this time he brought a friend 💀

[arualthefirst]

Bunch of beanssss

[thatoneautisticshark]

Saw someone on tiktok call the handle at the back of a vest a bitch strap.

Made me think of this.

Everyone on base jokes that it's a good thing there's the bitch straps, everyone must be having to grab Johnny by it and tugging him back from bad decisions.

Soap thinks the truth is hilarious but keeps his mouth shut because he'd like to keep his teeth. The only time he is ever really grabbed by it is usually when someone pulls him back for a hug, or to steal his food.

Ghost however is a whole different story. Having a talk and the guy is an arse? Prices hand is resting on that strap, ready to yank him back of needed.

Gaz has yanked him back from running into a burning building. Soap yanks it when Ghost needs to check himself.

And the most humiliating part? Ghost reacts. The strap is tugged and he switches to docile. The pavloved the bitch strap to have meaning

[majinbangus]

Your man coming home from a particularly tough deployment to find you nursing a concussion with a black eye and broken arm, looking a little worse for wear. His mind immediately assumes the worst, and when he asks darkly, "who did this to you?" ready to raise hell upon who dared hurt his love, you grin sheepishly at him and confess, "I slipped in the tub."

He stares blankly at you for a solid ten seconds before dropping his chin to his chest, shaking his head in fond exasperation before looking back up at you, sighing with a hint of judgey adoration, "Bloody hell, dove, I'm gone for one month and you're gettin' up to all sorts of trouble."

You try to protest only for him to smother it with his lips, chuckling into your mouth, "You just wanted an excuse for me to take care of you, is that it? Don't deny it, you've always been a crafty one, mischief."

You crinkle your nose at the nickname, which he kisses in response, making your cheeks heat. He's probably gonna 'punish' you when you're better for your 'devious plan', but that's okay because he'll take good care to nurse you back to health (with a good dose of ribbing for slipping in the tub because come on. Of course, you'd injure yourself that way, he's not gonna let you live this down. He's got himself a clumsy one, huh?

... however, despite all the teasing and goodnatured jabs, you notice the antislip mat placed in the tub a day later, a warmth blooming in your chest.

You got yourself a good one, huh?)

[spurbleu]

think it’s really funny to imagine the younger men of the 141 realizing that price is actually super good with women.

soap plays knight- shows off to gawking birds, kyle’s pretty boy eyes and sharp tongue garner plenty of attention, and all simon needs to do is sit in the middle of the bar, waiting till a sweet thing asks him ‘what a big man like him is doing alone?’

price isn’t as engaged. let’s his boys have fun, but for the most part prefers to hang back. enjoy his liquor and cigarettes- let them do their thing. course, doesn’t go unnoticed. which spurs their assumption it’s not a ‘he wont’ and instead a ‘he cant’.

“‘fraid they might not like you, capm’?”

“aye gaz, play nice. ye know ta old man’s sensitive.”

“lost his spark, i reckon.”

they rib him for weeks on end about being an old man, no game, out of his prime, ect ect. it’s all light and fun of course, and combat keeps them busy enough that the jokes start to be forgotten. doesn’t occur to them that price has just been biting his tongue since the first blow.

until- night off. pub lights, tallboys and pretty women. familiar scene, type of place that has been in nasty dreams for weeks. kyle and soap are assessing the room, and simon’s silently following along. it takes them a minute to realize they’re captain is gone- but not 10 seconds to find him again- with a sweet, gorgeous bird on his arm by the bar.

silently, they watch as he effortlessly charms her. they count how many times she laughs, how eager she is to hold his arm, how, within in minutes, they’re already cozied up on a booth, nursing beer and making eyes.

and why wouldn’t she? classically handsome, mature, cute smile, a rugged exterior with a gentle execution. it’s a no-brainer for her when he offers to ‘get out of here’, and hold the muscles that breech from his shirt. doesn’t catch the way he glances over to a corner of the pub as they make their leave, small smile tugging at the burs of his mustache as he clocks the shock of his men’s faces under low lighting.

soap and kyle’s jaw break, meanwhile simon lets out a barking laugh.

“old man’s still got it.”

needless to say, all three men said nothing about losing his charm at the next debrief.

[accecakes]

Gaz does not care for slow burn romances…

[a1ty]

Ghost on his leave as a caretaker of random kids that saw him and said "mhm, yep, that scary, scarred man is trustworthy and won't kidnap me"

(Based off Armache's story lmao)

Johnny just wants to see Simon happy😭♥️

(He's desperate dw)

[guhbwuh2]

this is so stupid I'm sorry LMAO

[mindie-arts]

More cod ponies✨

With pony ghost lore drop🫡✨ + Laswell