Johnny Soap Mactavish - Blog Posts

Hi guys I urgently need help finding a COD fanfic on AO3. I can't remember the name but it's about Ghost and Soap showing exercises to several recruits and Ghost accidentally dislocated Soap's shoulder. They then went into Ghost's room and he put it back in place. Does anyone know this fic? Thanks for your help!

Ok, you all know the book “The Outsiders” right? Right. And I’ve been having an angst scene in my head with Ghost and Soap with this one quote. “Johnny was the only thing Dally loved. And now Johnny was gone.”. Now what if Soap dies or something and Ghost goes fucking 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 and absolutely loses it. He just loses himself and nothing is helping. I welcome you all to this amazing writing prompt!

Don't mind me requesting again cuz your writing is good-

Anyway I need some older male reader that is team GHOST from call of duty ghosts and his team is fucking chaotic like they be almost killing them self's and one of them do stabby another like blowing shit up while male reader don't get enough sleep and be a dad on his team but in the end they get the job done

I just want 141 to meet male readers team during a mission and all of them see his team jumping out a window lol

I just need some chaotic shit

Ghost Soldier!Male Reader + Task Force 141

WARNING: INCREDIBLY CRINGE WRITING

While Captain Y/n is on a mission with his team, they are interrupted...

What matters most though is if they are friend or foe...

Honestly, trying to put a whole scenario like this together was fun and challenging at the same time but worth it @gamersansblog !!!

So I hope you enjoy!

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"Midnight, Hawk, do either of you have eyes on the target yet?" Y/n asked as he let his eyes sweep over the contents in the room. Falcon followed behind him, silently with his gun raised, clearing the room himself before rejoining Y/n's side.

"No sir, not yet," Midnight's heavy feminine voice replied through the radio.

"Just a whole bunch of shit in here, Captain, unless..." Hawk drawed out slowly.

Y/n knew that tone and quickly tried to intervene, "Hawk, I swear if do what I think..."

"Calm down, sir. Why don't we just turn this place inside out?"

"Hawk..." Falcon warned from beside Y/n as he watched his Captain let out a long sigh in front of him.

"Just a little demolition, sir. That's all... it's not like anyone knows we're here anyway. With the guards dead, I doubt we'll be interrupted, " Y/n could have swore he aged faster as he listened to Hawk's suggestion.

Honestly, Y/n was too tired for this shit. It felt like he was baby sitting 3 kids and he couldn't help but wonder if other groups dealt with the same thing.

There mission was simple, take out the guards, retrieve the files, and get out. Really simple shit. Y/n could do it in his sleep if he wanted too. But noooo, the Higher Ups just had to say his team needed to be with him for this operation.

Plus, Y/n doubted that Falcon could deal with all of them if Y/n left him alone with Midnight and Hawk. So he was forced to bring his crazy pyromaniac of a man, the little assassin that would kill just about anything even when Y/n told her not to, and his only good child.

God, being a father of a Ghost Team was hard.

But even so, Y/n wouldn't change it for the world. His team was just about the best thing that ever happened to him and his career. They were his second chance, his redemption. His everything...

"Alright, Hawk, set up those explosives and see if you can find anything. Midnight, watch his back. Falcon and I are gonna make our way over there..." Y/n commanded.

"Understood, sir," and in the background, he could hear Hawk's sinister little giggle and shook his head at his soldier's antics.

"You sure this is the best idea, sir?" Falcon looked worried about this and Y/n didn't blame him for it. They both knew Hawk could go too far when it came to blowing up things.

Last time they left him alone, half of a building managed to disappear.

Y/n shook his head at the thought, not wanting to even remember that mission again.

When he caught sight of Midnight, the woman was throwing her knives at some random crate she was using as target practice.

"Midnight, Y/n told you to stop doing that. You're gonna mess up your knives and then cry about needing to get new ones," Falcon stressed.

Midnight stuck her tongue out at the man and Y/n chuckled.

"Come on Captain tell her!" Falcon pleaded.

Y/n ignored it and looked towards Hawk.

"You ready Hawk?"

"Annnnnd FINISHED!" the man exclaimed happily as he put the last finishing touches on the bomb.

"Good... get ready to...the hell is that sound?" Y/n turned to see a drone watching them outside the window.

"Shit... someone else is here... we're leaving NOW!" Y/n yelled as he made his way to the windows with their repel gear.

"WHO THE HELL ARE THEY?!" Midnight bellowed next to him.

"Doesn't matter! Hawk on my signal you blow this place to hell!"

"What about the files?!" Hawk asked.

"The Captain and I got them on our way to you two! Now hurry your ass up and get ready to repel!" Falcon hollered at him, quickly putting his gear on.

Once they were ready, Y/n didn't take the chance of the enemy spotting them from the window. If anything, these guys were definitely professionals and had yet to show themselves but it didn't bother Y/n one bit. He knew his team was just as good.

So, he turned to the other window, pulling out his P226 and aiming it at the window.

"Hawk, you remember that scene from Fast and Furious where they jumped from building to building?" Y/n asked.

"Yeah, but we don't have a supercar, sir!"

"Well we can try!" Y/n began to run towards the window, shooting it multiple times until to burst into glass shards and they all jumped out.

"NOW HAWK!"

Y/n heard that lovely sound of the explosion going off behind him as they landed on the roof.

"Hell yeah!" Hawk whooped from beside him.

"We can celebrate later...we still need to find who else is here."

Y/n turned to Midnight first.

"I got an idea..."

"Sir?" She tilted her head in curiosity.

"You see anyone even hostile take them out. Hawk fill this place with traps, take Falcon with you."

Hawk nodded and tapped Falcon's arm before leading them away from Y/n and Midnight.

"Alright, let's go see who the hell were dealing with..."

Midnight sent Y/n a smirk as Y/n moved to take point and as they set out to find the intruders.

It didn't take long when they both heard a cry that only Hawk could make and quickly ran towards his yells. Y/n told Midnight to hide the in the grass, dropping into the dirt himself and aiming his rifle at the newfound men that had Hawk and Falcon in their custody.

He heard the gruff British man's voice question who Hawk was working with, who their team was, but Hawk wasn't one to talk.

Y/n made sure personally that they would never talk. He put then through the same exact situation he had been in now. Cornered by the enemy but except this time not alone.

"Midnight, stay down unless shots are fired. Got it?"

She nodded at him before popping up out of the grass.

"I wouldn't move it I were you..."

The men all turned back to him, guns drawn on him while he held his Honey Badger tightly to his chest.

"Who the hell are you?" The man in the skull mask questioned.

Y/n gave him a look before turning back to the man with the fisher hat on.

"You plan on fishing for my soldiers..." he drawed off.

"Captain Price." He answered.

"Ah...I've heard of you... You and your little Task Force. What was it...141, right?"

"Ye now who the hell are you?" He watched the man's grip tighten on his own gun.

"Captain Y/n and you're going to give me back Hawk and Falcon now." Y/n demanded.

"How do I-" he was cut off by another voice going through his radio.

"Yeah but-... Are you sure, Laswell?"

Y/n looked up when he heard Kate's last name leave the older Brits lips.

"You familiar with Laswell?" Y/n asked as he watched the men untie Hawk and Falcon.

"Seems so...and it seems she knows you as well..." Price commented as he watched Hawk and Falcon walk back to Y/n's side.

"Sir, are you sure Laswell said they're green?" The dark skin man asked the Captian.

"I doubt Laswell would lie to us Gaz. That goes for you two as well," Price said, turning to the skull masked man and the slightly shorter man standing next to him.

"So that's a infamous Ghost...I thought he be taller," Hawk.

"He lots pretty damn tall to me, considering he's standing near shortstack over there..." Falcon said.

The shorter man sent him a glare, obviously hearing Falcon's comment, but before he could say anything, Ghost pulled him back.

"He's not worth it, Soap."

Y/n heard a Scottish accent come from the man as he watched the two talk.

"Oh, sir... You should probably tell-" Falcon was too late to warn him when Midnight sprang up from behind Ghost and Soap.

Y/n sent her the scariest death glare in history before the woman's knife even made it near the two men. Only then did Ghost realize Y/n was glaring but not at him and turned around only to see nothing there. When he turned back, there was now a third soldier standing near him that wasn't there.

"Who she?" He cocked his head towards her.

"Midnight." and he left it there.

Price turned to look at them apologetically before letting out a long sigh.

"Sorry about the mishaps, mates. Seems we got you mixed up with someone else, by the way... you know who blew up that building?"

"We did," Y/n said quickly, watching the man's face change to confusion.

"Why did you-"

"Sorry, but we're kinda on a tight schedule so we'll see yall again sometime soon yeah? Nice meeting you, Captain and your team. Lovely bunch, really! Sir, we have go to go." Falcon said as he pulled Y/n away, the man shaking his own head and chuckling himself, with the other two laughing.

"Kids am I right?" Y/n shouted as he sent a quick nod to the Captain before turning to greet his own team as they made their way towards exfil.

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Please feel free to REBLOG with the TAGS if you enjoyed reading this!

Using tags makes it easier to navigate yalls blogs!

Thank you again for reading!

-Guards

Switch!Reader 🤝 Switch!Johnny where he sucks the strap and calls you daddy when you're topping and he edges you relentlessly until you cum so hard you pass out when he's topping

💀💍🧼

Drawn a year ago for the GhostSoap zine.

Soap is totally the kind of person to taste test his fruits at the store

Soap’s workout attire is questionable at times…

(Thanks Pinterest)

Why have all the artists come to torment me with angst today /j

(i love angst so much but it makes me so sad lmao)

MW3 spoilers / MCD ‼️

Ghost hates Roosters (GhostSoap)

Tw: Swearing, use of Ghost's and Soap's real names, fluff

“Johnny, you feed the hens yet?” Ghost asked as he carried the potato’s into the barn while Soap milked the cows that lived within the barn's red walls. “No, not yet. Is yer turn anyway.” Soap chuckled, blowing Ghost a kiss as he finished milking the last cow. “Ah don’t wanna deal with yer rooste’.” Soap smiled picking up the milk bucket as he patted the cow's backside with one hand. “Yer know that bird hates mah guts M’eudail.” Soap smiled, kissing Ghost's cheek as he walked past. “Hmph. Fine I’ll feed the hens today.” Ghost chuckled as he set down the sack of potatoes, picking up the basket full of the chicken feed. “I’m only doin this because I love you Johnny.” Ghost waved a finger at his husband. “Ah doubt yer would let yer beloved hens starve Simon.” Soap snickered. “Yer love those critters te death.”

“I suppose.” Ghost nodded, as he exited the barn, walking over to the chicken coop where the hens had already gathered. Ghost smiled as the chickens flocked around him, letting out annoyed chirps and squawks of offense at being fed later than usual. “Relax you feathery bastards.” Ghost laughed as the chickens angrily flocked him. Ghost hummed as he sprinkled the chicken feed all over the coop. The hens scattering to go eat their fill. The sounds of annoyed squawking died down as the creatures had their fill. The feathered creatures going back to roaming the coop or sitting in their nests once they had their fill. After making sure the hens were fed, Ghost moved on to the roosters. Quite frankly Ghost didn't quite like the roosters and the roosters didn't like him. However the roosters loved Soap, they were never aggressive with the smaller scottish man, however they would always try to tear out Ghost’s eye sockets. Deciding against entering the rooster house Ghost just threw the chicken feed through the mesh walls. “Feed you insufferable bastards.” However upon spotting Ghost on the other side of the wall a rooster attempted to attack him. “You violent creatures.” Ghost grumbled retreating back to the barn where he found his husband sorting through potatoes. “Alright Johnny, you are feeding the roosters. I hate them and they hate me.” “Simon yer overreactin’ them rooster’s are sweet.” Soap chuckled, “An don say yer hate em. Yer gonna hurt their feelin’s.” “Those bloody cocks don’t have feelings!” Ghost growled sitting down next to Soap, “One of em tried to claw my eyes out.” “Yer over exaggerate so much M'eudail.” Soap chuckled leaning against Ghost. “Der roosters are nice yer just don’t get along with ‘em.” “They don't get along with me.” Ghost scowled as he helped Soap clean the potatoes. “Whatever yer say Mo chridhe.” Soap laughed at the pout on Ghost’s face. “Ah still think yer just bein mean ter der poor roosters, maybe that's why they hate yer.” “Can’t believe you take their side, love.” Ghost huffed, “those things are bloody monsters.” “Maybe that’s why they don’t like yer.” Soap rolled his eyes. “Yer keep callin em monster’s and vermin.” “I’ve never called them vermin. But that’s a good way to describe them.” Ghost replied, glancing at his husband. “Ah m’ just sayin, maybe if yer didn hurt they feelin maybe they'd like yer better.” Soap chuckled. “Maybe they should just stop being pricks.” Ghost growled as he stabbed a potato. Soap laughed at his husband's antics. “Maybe yer should be the bigger person and just befriend the roosters?” Soap suggested with a grin, eagerly waiting for his husband's grumbly response. “I don’t want to be the bigger person.” Ghost hunched over angrily stabbing the potatoes. “…right. An remin me who’s the human in this situation?” Soap asked teasingly. “…me.” “An who has to be the bigger person?” Soap asked again. “…me.” Ghost groaned in annoyance.

Hiii Crab so happy to see you write outside of our rants/idea chats and my fellow delulu cod enjoyer! Would love to request Platonic!141 + Reader (sorry if this is long and somewhat confusing lol). You can do headcanons, drabble or whatever you comfy for. An idea that popped in my head kinda semi personal: Civ or 141! Reader though has parents and family is the reader is quite something else. Reader despite having somewhat normal upbringing still feel empty; they shouldn't be feeling this numb and empty deep inside of them. The reader craves the love that they give but couldn't or lack of receiving it back, though they don’t expect it or selfishly want it. Just someone who understands them even in their deepest darkest secret or flaw then boom cue the task force 141 unexpected yet welcoming to their life and maybe the one that the Reader can lean and let them be vulnerable on (finally).  

Take your time on doing this Looking for to your other writing genuinely -Cee, your fellow Soap delulu

GN!Reader & 141 (Mostly Price)

Warnings: Slight angst Ships: None. A/N: This absolutely ran away from me and I do not at all regret it, hope you enjoy, Cee!!! Words: 3549

Almost your entire life had been a cycle of self doubt that also started to churn and twist into self-hatred. You blamed yourself for the feelings. Afterall, you had a relatively normal upbringing. Two parents who were both present in your life, both of whom worked so that you all had food on the table and a roof over your head. A luxury that very few had.

The least you could do for them is follow the path that they wanted to put you on, no matter how much you didn’t want to do it. Because you loved them. 

So you excelled in your education, studying hard to try and impress your parents– to make them love you just as much as you loved them for everything that they did for you for your entire life. They wanted you to do all three sciences despite the additional workload it would add to your already stretched thin time? Then you would do them, take any extra classes after school in order to keep up with the work and not lag behind any of your peers. 

There was no such thing as a social life, either, not when you had homework and projects due. Friends were few and far between. Generally, most people left when they realised how hyper focused you were on your grades instead of social interaction. 

Did a classmate get a higher grade than you on a test? Well obviously you didn’t study hard enough, you just needed to dedicate more time to school even though school was all you had.

Did you get the highest marks in the class? Good, that was what was expected of you. Why didn’t you get full marks? You were better than that. You would do better because you loved your family. They showed it in their own way, of course, by encouraging you to study harder and get better grades. That was their love language, and yours was doing as they asked without a second thought. Because, at the end of the day, you were lucky to have an upbringing like you had. You would ignore the hollow void clawing at your chest because you had no right to feel that way– not when you had a roof over your head and parents that loved you(?).

It was when you came top of the class with full marks in a recent test, you came home with a beaming smile on your face and proudly showed the test to your parents. They took the papers from your hands, flipping through your work with critical eyes, before handing the papers back to you. 

‘Well done, we’re so proud of you.’ That was all you wanted them to say to you. That was all you needed to hear. To know that they loved you. 

‘Your penmanship is terrible.’ Was what you got instead. When you tried to point at the big 100% in green pen, you were waved away. ‘How are you expected to get a job when you write like a child? I’m surprised the teacher could even read your answers’. 

After several years of balancing a work and educational life and paving a way for a line of work that you didn’t want for parents you should have been grateful to have, you decided that enough was enough. 

No matter how hard you worked, no matter how high your marks were, they would never be proud of you. They would never return the love that you had for them until you nearly killed yourself trying. 

Spending your entire childhood, teenagehood and all of your current adulthood trying to please your parents predictably would damage one’s psyche. You had no friends, family who had never been devoted to you as you were to them, and high grades serving as the foundations to a prison-like future.

You dropped out of University. The only option forward that you saw was joining the army in the vain hope that the empty feeling inside of you would dissipate when you actually did something that you believed was more worthwhile than any University course. 

So you threw yourself into the military, working harder than all of the other recruits and training at every chance you could.

Your skills and determination became widely recognised amongst your peers. It took several years, but you eventually caught the eye of none other than Captain John Price. 

Impressed by your willpower that not many soldiers possessed, he offered you a place on the 141. 

Naturally, you agreed. You believed that being part of such a well renowned and respected team would finally beat back the lingering self doubt and emptiness that had curled itself around your heart.

It didn’t. If anything, it made it worse.

You were invited to join the 141, sure, but they had already established their own relationships between each other, had already bonded into a close knit group, and you were simply an outsider. Yes, you had been hand picked by Price himself, but that didn’t mean you were part of the team. They had their own inside jokes that they told to one another, leaving you feeling left out on most days.

And you felt… lacking around them. Ghost was stronger, Gaz was faster, Soap was smarter (he was a demolitions expert for crying out loud!), and Price was almost all of those rolled into one. They all complimented each other as a team. Meanwhile you felt like a spare tyre, a master of nothing and barely a jack of any trade. 

Despite how you felt about it all, they all called you ‘kid’. Regardless of age gaps between yourself and the rest of them, the nickname stuck mostly because you were the newbie. It came as a surprise that it wasn’t spat with vitriol as your peers before had, but it was in fact said with… an affection you couldn’t quite place.

You couldn’t ignore the hole in your chest that had been chipped at over the years, forming a gaping maw that no reassurances could really mend. 

Doubt lingered in the back of your mind, chipping away at your sanity as you prepared for the worst. How long would it take before they realised you weren’t good enough? 

You were so deep in your doubts that you didn’t realise that you had been distancing yourself even more than before until you overheard a conversation in Price’s office a few months down the line.

“-- they don’t belong on the team.” Gaz said as you passed Price’s office and your heart dropped. It was only the tailend of what he had been saying but you had gotten the gist. You wanted to stay, to listen to the conversation more and listen to what your team had to say about you, but you didn’t. What you were going to hear were likely things you had already told yourself right from the start. You keep walking on, ignoring the sting of tears burning in the corners of your eyes. The blood rushing in your ears prevented you from heating the rest of the conversation. 

“-- not only are they acting like they don’t belong on the team, but they’re acting like they’re not good enough.” Gaz continued, sighing in frustration.

“Maybe they need more time.” Ghost rumbled in reply, “Let them come out of their shell a little bit. Best not rush these things.” He was talking from experience, after all.

“Aye… maybe I can invite them out for drinks or sommat? I wouldn’t want them getting transferred before we got to know them a little more.” Soap had been the one that had tried the hardest to get close to you but had also tried to give you space so as to not suffocate you with his personality. 

“They won’t be getting transferred.” Price said with conviction, tapping his desk, “I chose them to be part of this team and this is where they’re going to stay. Let me have a word with them first.”

“Aye, sir.”

— — — — — —

You found yourself in the smoker’s shelter outside the main building. It was late enough that most of the soldiers had gone to bed or off to do their own things elsewhere so you doubted that you would be bothered for a little while. Just enough time for you to get your thoughts together. Your tears had dried in your eyes a few minutes ago, making them sting in the cold air. You didn’t need to look in your reflection to know that you probably looked like a wreck– entirely unbecoming of a soldier of your apparent status. 

You didn’t want to get transferred. Despite your distance with the 141, you didn’t hate them. Far from, actually, you held a great deal of respect for each and every one of them. It was just that you felt like you didn’t have your place amongst them. Not good enough to be associated with them. 

“Bit late to be out here in the cold, chuck.” A voice startled you out of your thoughts– one that you would recognise anywhere from the low rasp of a smoker's lungs. 

“Captain.” You croaked, wincing at the patheticness in your voice. There was a scuff of boots as Price came closer, leaning into your line of vision with a furrowed brow which only furrowed more as he took in your dishevelled appearance.

“Something on your mind?” He asked kindly, perching on the arm of the bench to give you some personal space. He left his question open, allowing you any chance to steer the conversation how you wanted to. There was no judgement for catching you at your lowest, no disgust at your red rimmed eyes— just polite understanding and a non verbal offer of pleasant company. 

“Why did you pick me, Captain?”

The question made him tilt his head, a frown beginning to tug on his features. You were worried you had insulted him.

“What brought this on, huh? Someone say something to you? Need me to have a word with them?” He straightened his back, scowling. Whilst you felt like you didn’t have a place in the 141, you could never deny the shield of protectiveness that Price held over his team. You remember in the back of your mind the day that some General who thought he was hot shit had the audacity to undermine Soap as nothing more than a ‘yappy dog’ when offered the Scot’s demolitions expertise. Price had appeared almost out of thin air and almost ripped the General a new one and things would have escalated into a fist fight had Laswell not intervened. It wasn’t as though Price didn’t think his own soldiers were capable of defending themselves, but he couldn’t care less about punishments aimed his own way over that of his Sergeants and Lieutenant. It was just a surprise that the protective streak extended over you, too, despite your distance to your teammates.

“I’ll sound stupid.” You mumbled, looking down at the ground as if expecting him to chastise you like a child. He didn’t.

“I’ve had my fair share of stupid over the years. Try me.”

“... and ungrateful.”

“I once had a guy punch me in the face two seconds after I took a bullet that would have killed him.” Price countered with a cut off chuckle once he remembered what was probably a mission long finished and cleared his throat. “C’mon, tell Captain what’s on your mind.”

And he sounded so sincere when he said it. Sounded like he genuinely wanted to hear what was going on in your head– that he was willing to waste what was already his important and limited time on someone like you. 

“Sir—”

“John.” Price corrected gently, crows feet more noticeable at the corners of his eyes scrunched up when he smiled, “We’re off duty, you don’t need to be so formal.”

“... John.” You echoed, finding that you really didn’t like saying that. It felt like calling your teacher by their first name in primary school or a classmate’s parent other than their last name. 

“Now, c’mon, tell me what’s on your mind. Might not be a therapist, but I’m better than bottling it up.” You wondered in the back of your mind how often Price did this. Sat with his soldiers and talked with them, offered them a listening ear to hear their vents and fears. You couldn’t help but feel honoured to be one of the few he willingly offered said time to. Your silence stretched on as you thought of the words to say, how to phrase what you wanted to say without sounding unappreciative of the opportunity that Price had offered you when he requested you join his team. 

“I don’t feel like I belong here.” You blurted once the silence had stretched on for long enough to border on uncomfortable. John’s face fell and you quickly realised how bad that sounded and rushed to correct yourself.

“No, no, wait, let me explain–” the Captain closed his mouth to allow you to continue speaking, but you could tell that it was hard for him. “I just… you could have anyone better than me, you know? I’m not a demolition expert. I’m… I’m not the best Sniper. I’m the slowest on the team, pretty sure I’m the weakest–”

“Nope.” Price interrupted, finally breaking the bubble of your personal space as he took a proper seat next to you on the bench but still respecting the distance enough to keep a few inches between you. “Nope, not lettin’ you say another word.”

“But–” 

“Nope.”

“Cap–”

“No.”

“But you could have anyone better—“

“But they wouldn’t be you.” He deflected easily. Far too easily. He leant back on the bench, crossing one leg over the other as he folded his arms over his chest. His fingers twitched and you could tell he was itching for a cigar but didn’t light one out of respect. 

“Alright, sure, I can ask Laswell to give me one of the best soldiers in the SAS and have them brought here tomorrow. They could be the best of the best, top of their class, better than you and maybe even better than me. But that’s a bit of a stretch.” He winked and earned a weak chuckle from you. “But they won’t be you. I don’t pick just on skill alone, kid, I pick based on how I feel people would fit into the team. I chose you because I knew that you’d be perfect.”

“As for not being a demolitions expert, let  me let you in on a little secret. I’ve no fucking clue about demolitions, either. And you don’t have to be on the team to be the ‘best Sniper’. You’re better than most, and that’s what’s important. As for being the weakest– did you or did you not bodily lift Gaz in a fireman’s carry during training the other week while he was trying to act as an injured civilian? Quite dramatically, might I add. Swooned and everything.”

You remembered that practice mission. Quite fondly, actually. Gaz was a civilian and , after being struck by a foam bullet from Soap, had dramatically screamed in agony and crumpled to the floor. When you had lifted him up and over your shoulders, the bastard continued to wail something along the lines of telling his non-existent spouse that he loved them and that his money be given to his equally non-existent children. Soap got in another shot to the man’s head, knocking off his cap in the process. Distracted as you were trying to haul your teammate out of the danger zone, you couldn’t help but laugh thinking about it now. 

“Last time I checked, Gaz is somewhat heavier than a sack of flour. Don’t tell him I said that, I’ll hurt his feelings.” Price was right, you supposed. You were more than capable of carrying Gaz over your shoulders, maybe even Soap or Price himself if the time called for it. Ghost you weren’t so sure about, though. The man was a walking mountain. 

“What I’m trying to say is that you have to give yourself more credit. You’re more than good enough to be on my team. I chose you for a reason.”

You… did not expect that sort of reassurance from Price. You had hoped for something along those lines, yes, but perhaps with a thrown in criticism or three. You waited for a ‘but’ that never came. The man snorted beside you and when you gave him a quizzical look, he waved off your concern.

“Shit, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think the next thing out of your mouth would be that your parents never hugged you as a kid.”

Your silence made him slowly turn his head towards you. It would have almost been comical if the situation wasn’t. His face crumbled and a wounded sound emerged from his throat.

“Sometimes they did!” You rushed to defend the people that raised you. “And they gave me food and shelter, clothes when I needed them–”

“Fucking hell. No, that’s what they’re supposed to do because they’re your parents. What about telling you that they were proud of you? That they loved you? I saw your records. Top of your class in not just your training but in your education, too. Triple sciences, mathematics, all of it. They had to be proud of you for that? My parents would have killed for me to get even a passing grade in my GCSEs.” You looked down at the ground and it was Price’s turn to have his eyes fixed on you. 

“They were proud of you, weren’t they?” He asked again, leaning forwards so he could catch your eye, his own filled with concern. “Kid?”

“I don’t talk to them much anymore.” 

Price inhaled sharply and he leaned back again, looking around and clenching his jaw as if fighting back his anger. His fingers twitched again. You admired his self control as he was still yet to grab a cigar that you knew he kept on his person. Usually in his breast pocket while his lighter was in his right pocket.

“Listen to me.” The Captain said, a more stern edge to his voice now that he had gathered his thoughts together. “Whatever your family said to you— how they treated you? Forget it. They showed you obligation. Not love. They didn’t want what was ‘best’ for you, they wanted bragging rights. What you’ve achieved– here, in bootcamp, in university and in school, is something to take pride in– no, no, look at me.”

Your gaze had trailed to the side so you avoided looking at your Captain in the eyes. He noticed and clicked his fingers to gain your attention back on him.

“Don’t look away from me because I want you to listen to what I’m gonna say and I want you to look at my face as I say it.” Your eyes met his blue ones, “You should be proud of everything that you’ve achieved in your life. I’m sorry that your family never told you that and I’m sorry that I haven’t said that enough to you since you joined 141.”

You opened your mouth to say something– to argue or disagree but he shook his head.

“No. It’s my turn to speak now. I’m proud of you. I am so proud of you. Everything you’ve done and everything that you’re yet to do, I will always be proud of you. You’re an exemplary soldier and I knew the moment I saw you that you would be a perfect addition to the 141 and you have proved me right time and time again. You belong on this team just as much as the rest of the boys. Do you understand?”

So many words– proud, proud, proud. That’s all you had wanted to hear for so many years from someone whose opinion mattered to you. You wanted to be seen and Price, this godsend of a man, had seen you and more.

“Kid, do you understand me?”

You nodded once and then realised that Price wouldn’t have been able to tell through your shaking. Tears blurred in the corners of your eyes and you nodded again, not trusting your voice in case it shattered. 

“What do you need from me?” Price’s voice was oh so soft, like he was talking to a frightened fawn. He could see how much his words had affected you and it clearly broke his own heart.

“A hug.” Your bottom lip wobbled and his face softened as he opened his arms, twitching his fingers to urge you closer.

“I can do that.” 

You leaned into him and he quickly wrapped his arms around you, drawing you in close. You could smell the lingering scent of his last cigar. The smell of his office and cleaning oil. You felt his chin on the top of your head and felt how his chest rumbled as he spoke.

“You’re part of the 141 whether you like it or not, alright? Me and the boys want you here for as long as you want to be.”

At that moment, for the first time in your life. You felt wanted. You felt appreciated and you felt seen.

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141 + Nikolai Reactions to Soap Coming Back/Being Alive

Words: 2.8k Warnings: Mentions of depression, alcoholism/self destructive behaviour Ships: Ghost/Soap, (implied) Nik/Price A/N: i swear this was only supposed to be around 600 words but my brain wouldn't stop until i wrote all of this. up next: los vaqueros reaction.

- Price / words: 683

Soap’s death had been sudden. Unexpected. He was so young– the youngest, but he was one of the best. Only a Sergeant, but he could have gone as far as becoming something of a Captain in a few years time if he kept his head screwed on. All that promise and potential, taken away by one single bullet– no. Not the bullet– the man wielding the gun. Price doesn’t remember the last time he had slept more than 4 hours in the night since they spread Soap’s ashes. There was too much to do. There were other lives to save– other lives that were yet to be lost. Mourning for the man would have to come later. Later. Later. Later. There was only so many times that Price could push his needs to the back of his mind before it boiled over. So he took to cigars– cigarettes, if he was in desperate need. Alcohol became a common nightcap for him. Not enough to affect his performance as a Captain, but enough to garner worried looks from Ghost, Gaz, Nikolai and Kate. He couldn’t have them worrying about him– not now, not when they themselves were all reaching breaking points of their own. Ghost had withdrawn on himself to the point he was even worse off than when Price had first met him. He grunted and mumbled his words or avoided conversations entirely. He was still a beast on the battlefield and during missions, almost scarily so. His kills became more brutal, more messy. Dirty, Nikolai had called it once as he watched overhead as Ghost snuck up on a man and stabbed him 27 times. He had counted. 

And Gaz. Who had blamed himself. Price didn’t need to be a therapist to know that. What broke his heart the most was when he was escorting an exhausted Gaz back to his room when the sergeant muttered something under his breath. 

“Wazzat, Garrick?”

“... should’ve been me, sir.” Price didn’t have the words to respond to the statement. It shouldn’t have been Soap. Or Gaz. Or Ghost. It shouldn’t have been any of them. If anything, it should have been Price himself. If Soap hadn’t rushed in head first to save him, then Soap would still be here–

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Price would deny to his dying breath that he choked around his cigar when a familiar face entered his office. He had been run ragged and thin these past few weeks– chasing leads on Makarov and also juggling the emotions that hung in the air since Soap’s untimely demise. Or ‘apparent’ demise, considering said man had just walked into the room as if nothing had happened and Price hadn’t watched his head successfully catch a bullet while trying to save his life. 

“... surprise…?” Soap said awkwardly as he shut the door quietly behind him, scratching the side of his head as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing in the first place. Like still being alive. Price could have snorted at the absurdity of it. Instead, he rose to his feet and ignored the screeching of the chair behind him. He stared at Soap as he rounded his desk, striding towards the not-so-dead-Sergeant.

“Fuck my old boots, I’m going crazy.” he breathed. Jogging the last few steps, he envelops the scot in a hug. One arm wraps around Soap’s back, the other cradling the back of his head. The body beneath the palms of his hands is warm, thrumming with a steady and strong heartbeat. 

“John.” he whispered and arms wrapped around him in return, squeezing some of his jagged pieces back into place. The time to explain how or why would come later. For now, he was comforted by the fact that Soap was still living and breathing. He was still here. He had unknowingly given Price a second chance– one that the dear Captain would not squander.

“Preferred it when ye called me sunshine, sir.”

“Don’t push your fucking luck, Sergeant.” If Price’s grip on the other man tightened, neither said a word.

- Gaz / words: 565

Gaz has been running laps every single day since Soap died. He had been training, pushing himself as hard and as far as he could go. He wasn’t quick enough. He wasn’t quick enough to help when his team needed him most. He wasn’t quick enough to help Soap when he stared at Death in the face and watched as he pulled the trigger. He should have been faster– he convinced himself that he had to be faster. For Ghost. For Price. He wouldn’t fail them like he had failed Soap. He still thinks about the day they lost the scotsman. Remembers the blood pooling around his head like a sickening halo. He uses it as an incentive. As a reminder for what he lost that day– for what he still has left to lose.

Another lap came to an end in the form of him wheezing and almost stumbling to the finish line. He was bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to even out his breathing. He had pushed himself again today and he felt the telltale signs of nausea curl in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t beaten last week’s record yet. He makes a move for one more lap, but a voice stops him. Usually it was Price who stopped him before he pushed himself too far and ended up in medical. The Captain would appear seemingly out of nowhere, cigar in one hand and Gaz’s shoulder in the other.

‘That’s enough for today, Sergeant.’ He would say, and silence any words of complaint or refusal from Gaz before they were even spoken, ‘That’s an order, Kyle.’

“Whoa there, not the best idea to push yerself so hard. You’ll make yerself sick ya daft tit.” 

Either Price had adopted a Scottish accent in some deranged form of honouring their lost Sergeant, or Gaz had begun hallucinating from overexerting himself. It was likely the latter. He didn’t want to think of Price hiding a mohawk underneath his hat. A hand meets his shoulder and his own slaps over the top of it on instinct. Looking up, he squints as his eyes adjust to the sunlight– begin to focus on familiar features in front of him. Grinning familiar features. 

“Oh, you’re a bloody bastard.” He said, still regaining his breath from his laps. He knows that he hasn’t gone crazy– not yet, anyhow. He knows that the hand on his shoulder is real– that the man in front of him isn’t a figment of his imagination. His other hand claps Soap’s shoulder, gripping hard as he struggles to keep himself together. “You’re a bloody bastard, you know that?”

If Soap heard the crack in his voice, he’s kind enough not to mention it.

“I’ve been told. I only came back ‘cause you owed me twenty quid.”

“Last time I checked it was only fifteen.” Gaz raised an eyebrow, tears in his eyes but a smile on his face as they both fell into a similar routine as if Soap had never left. 

“Interest fee.” Soap quipped back, clapping Gaz on the back and bringing him into a tight hug. 

“Welcome back, Soap.” They fell into silence, the embrace lasting a little longer than usual.

“... I’m not giving you your twenty quid, by the way. If anything, you owe me twenty quid for the emotional damage.”

“Awa’ an bile yer heid!”

- Ghost / words: 1215

Ghost had withdrawn in himself after Soap’s death– or, more specifically, after the funeral and spreading of his ashes. He hated it. Hated watching as the breeze carried Soap away, spreading him across the Scottish countryside. It… it had been too final, for him. An end. The end of Johnny. That’s what it had felt like. The end. And he couldn’t fucking take it. 

Price had given Johnny’s dog tags to Ghost a week or so after everything. It was likely an excuse to talk to the Mancunian– to try and coax him out of his room. It had worked, albeit slightly, as it was an effective reminder to Ghost of who he still had left. Cutting Price and Gaz off wasn’t the way to go– and most definitely what Soap wouldn’t have wanted for him. 

It had been around 2 months, 11 days, 13 hours, and 42 minutes since Soap had died. The days had somehow blurred together but dragged in such a way that Ghost was still aware of the time passing in the back of his mind in some tortuous slew. It was a rare day that he had not only left his room, but the base entirely. His therapy sessions had gone from monthly to weekly to even bi-weekly sometimes. Price had forced them on him after the funeral. Ghost only went to get the old man off of his back. The sessions were generally an hour long, maybe a little over if he accidentally overshared. Most of the time he only sat and listened to the psychiatrist talk about different ways to deal with thoughts of depression and other ways to deal with bereavement. It was all a load of shite. Don’t get him wrong, his psychiatrist was a wonderful person– very passionate about their job but Ghost had been so overwhelmed by his grief some days that going to his appointments was just a waste of time, resources and money. Today’s session ended like the rest, a curt and professional goodbye and the arrangement of another session at the same time the following week. Ghost wondered just how many more sessions he could attend before Price stopped forcing him to go. The last time he didn’t, Price had wrangled him into Nikolai’s helicopter and had the Russian personally escort him to and from his appointment. How Soap would have howled with laughter if he had ever bore witness to it.

Price and Gaz were talking. That was the first thing that Ghost noticed when he walked past the common room. Whilst that wasn’t uncommon in the slightest, what was suspicious was that there was a third voice amongst them– one that Ghost was yet to forget. Likely it was his mind playing tricks on him again, filling the void that Soap had left in an attempt to save himself from the pain but still managing to gouge more wounds into his heart. Despite the apprehension, he was already opening the door before his brain could even comprehend it. 

“Hey, Lt.” Soap said, turning around to face Ghost when he entered and smiling like he wasn’t supposed to be dead and his body spread across some cliff in some backend of scotland. From the way Price and Gaz were looking directly at the sergeant, it was clear that he was no figment of anyone’s imagination.

“Ghost? Ghost!” For the second time in the space of around 12.5 seconds, Ghost’s body was already walking before his brain caught up. He was walking back to his quarters, slamming the door shut and locking it behind him. A few seconds later, desperate knocking filled the room. 

“Ghost, lemme explain!” How dare he? How dare Soap come back like this and treat it like none of the 141 had mourned his loss. 

“Simon… Si, please.” 

The mancunian leant against the closed door, struggling to even out his breathing. Silence fell, only broken by the occasional shaky exhale from Simon’s lips. It stretched on for several minutes, maybe even longer– 

“... Did’ja hear about the cheese factory that exploded in France?” What the fuck was Johnny talking abou– “Da-brie was everywhere.”

Simon almost snorted at the absurdity of the situation and the stupidity of the joke. Looks like the time Johnny had spent being dead gave him time to brush up on his jokes. 

“As I get older, I remember all the people I lost along the way. Maybe me budding career as a tour guide wasn’t the right choice.” Damn him. Damn Johnny for coming back like nothing happened and standing outside Simon’s door telling him goddamn puns. Simon still remained silent, not wanting to give Johnny the satisfaction of making him laugh. 

“Even people who are good for nothing have the capacity to bring a smile to your face, like when you push them down the stairs.” Alright, Ghost would admit that had wormed a soft snort of amusement. Johnny grew silent for a few seconds and it didn’t take too much brain power to imagine the shit eating grin forming on the sergeant’s face, undoubtedly hearing Simon’s mirth. 

“I was digging in our garden and found a chest full of gold coins. I wanted to run straight home to tell my wife about it. Then I remembered why I was digging in our garden…” Awful. Absolutely awful– Simon had taught him well.

“Do you know the phrase ‘One man’s trash is another man’s treasure’? Wonderful saying, horrible way to find out that you were adopted. I can do this all day, Lt.”

That’s what he was afraid of.

Simon sighed to himself as he stood up and opened the door that currently separated the two soldiers. There was a loud curse and a thump as Johnny fell backwards and into the now open doorway. He must have been leaning on the door and didn’t expect the sudden opening. Serves him right. 

“Hi, Simon.” the scot breathed, staring up at Ghost like he had hung the moon. 

“Where did Joe go after getting lost on a minefield?” Simon found himself saying as he stared down at the man who was supposed to be dead. “Everywhere.”

Johnny’s face scrunched up in disdain and he groaned, throwing an arm over his face and still making no move to get up from his place on the floor. 

“Terrible.”

“And yours were any better?” Simon knelt by the fallen sergeant, head tilted to the side as he regarded him, drinking in the visible parts of his face. The shorter man moved to sit up, hands hesitating just before they touched Simon as if afraid of his reaction.

“They got you t’open the door, didn’t they?” Damnit. Simon held out his hand, palm facing up. Johnny took it as it was and placed his own over the top, intertwining their fingers. 

“Gonna take a lot more than jokes to fix this, Johnny.” 

“I know, Lt. Got a lot to make up for but lemme make a start. Permission to kiss you, sir?” The fact he asked where before he would simply act was enough to melt Simon’s heart– just a little bit. 

“Permission granted, Sergeant.” Forgiveness would be a low thing– but feeling Johnny’s warm and soft lips on his own was definitely a step in the right direction.

- Nikolai / words: 332

The first thing Nikolai does when he finds out Soap is alive is punch him. Not hard enough to break anything or bruise too severely, but hard enough that Soap will be reminded of it for a few days afterwards. 

“That is for making everyone think that you were dead.” It’s still fresh in his mind. Watching as Price fell apart at the seams after they spread Soap’s ‘ashes’, as the guilt ate him up from the inside out. As the ‘what if’s plagued his mind, ruined what little sleep he already didn’t get in the night– and stole his happiness, for a time. Nikolai can remember the week where Price smoked so many cigars that the Captain woke up with a tight chest, wheezing like a man starved of oxygen and clutching onto Nikolai’s shoulder as he gasped and spluttered– only to repeat the process the following day. 

‘I can stop when I need to.’ Price had said to Nikolai, brushing off any concern that the russian had voiced about the almost permanent smoke cloud that formed in Price’s office. 

Nikolai was not stupid– soldiers were lost all of the time in war. But not all soldiers left lasting impressions like Soap had to his Captain and teammates. He had touched the hearts of many with his shining personality and enthusiasm, Nikolai himself included. He had been fond of the Scotsman, even a partner in crime once during a prank that involved several bags of glitter and the helicopter fan blades. 

The scowl on his face morphs into something softer as he watched Soap try and massage the pain away with his hands. He brings Soap into a hug, pressing his forehead against Soap’s newly scarred temple.

“And this is for coming back to us. We all missed you, солнышко (Sunshine).” Despite the gentle words, his grip tightens until it is almost bruising. “Don’t do that again or I will kill you myself.” Soap doesn’t doubt that even for a second. 

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t-the vest, t-t-the tousled hair hfhdbffncnfjfjfhffffhhnnnnffffffhhfhnnffhfnnfffh my mouf on da floor like hxxncncbxshdjffhnfffhffnf

oh my god.

“oh i’m a feminist. i wanna put a woman on top. and on the back, on her knees”

I'm very very very drunk rn

But I can't stop thinking about Captain John Price

Now Price loved women. All women. Didn't matter if you were chubby, thin, muscular. IT DIDN'T FUCKING MATTER. But saying that if he had to choose. I believe he'd love himself a chubby girl. All soft thighs and comfy tits (You can't change.e mind)

This man would 100% come home from work. Strip until he's completely nude and fall asleep in your thighs or tits

Like it wouldn't even better sexual. To Price you are home. When he's with you he knows he's safe

Obviously that wouldn't stop him from copping a feel but seriously you calm him down. You remiihim he's safe. His boys are safe. He is home

I'm back on my Sons of Anarchy bullshit so here you are ~

Something something the 141 being a notorious close-knit outlaw motorcycle club. Price being the mc President, Ghost being the Vice President, Gaz being sergeant-at-arms and Soap being intelligence officer.

And you were the pretty bird that worked behind the bar, 'Too feisty to be a Crow Eater' Ghost would say but 'Too pretty to not have a job at the club' Soap would say. Everyone knows that you're off limits, not because Price said so.

Oh no

But because when you first started working at the club, one of the other bikers mistaking thought you were a Crow Eater so when he thought he could cop a feel you didn't hesitate to grab the closet thing, an empty beer bottle, and smash it over his head. You held the broken bottle and threatened everyone. Stating angrily that if anyone was to touch you then they'd end up in A&E.

Unfortunately for you, Gaz saw that as a challenge.

A challenge he succeeded with every time. It almost became a game between you both

Every weekend, at some point through the night, he'd back you up into a corner. Conveniently the corner closes to his room at the club

'Gaz, I will twat you' You'd half heartedly threaten him, not completely meaning it.

Gaz would flash you his pretty boy smile 'Sure you would sweetheart'

You'd lift you hand to hit him but Gaz was quick. He was always quicker than you. He'd pin your wrist to the wall, wrapped his hand gently around your throat that he knows makes your knees weak.

He knows you better than you know yourself. The subtle flinch when he goes for your neck, the way your breath hitches, a silent protest he ignores. He learned that a sharp bite on your shoulder, a playful aggression, elicits a moan so sweet, so utterly yielding, it makes him want to devour you whole. He knows the precise pressure to apply, the exact spot to sink his teeth into.

He knows how to make you look at him. Cupping the back of your head, his thumb gently pressing beneath your jaw, tilting your face upward – just enough to catch the innocent, wide-eyed gaze he adores. Those doe eyes, so full of a naive trust that belies the raw, desperate need that writhes beneath the surface. Those eyes, those eyes are his downfall, his salvation.

Every time Gaz whispers those words into your ear, your heart skips a beat.

'Gonna make you my old lady,' he groans, his breath hot against your skin as his hips thrust against yours. You can feel him, hard and insistent, as the tip of his cock constantly batters that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl.

'Yo- You say that every time,' you gasp, your voice high and full of lust. 'You never make good on your promise.'

Gaz flips you onto your stomach, his hand coming down firmly on the middle of your shoulder blades to keep you in place. He fists your hair and pulls your head back, exposing your neck to him. You can feel his breath against your skin as he slowly pushes himself back into your sloppy hole.

'Then let me,' he begs, his voice low and full of need. He picks up speed, his hips slapping against yours as he takes what he wants from you. 

And you let him

Maybe becoming his old lady wouldn't be so terrible

I am on a motherfucking ROLL lately

@codnasties insipred me to write this. The original post here

Everyone thinks Soap needs a sweet little lass to you know, even out the feral mutt in him, but no. Soap wants someone like him. Someone who is just as disgustingly horny as him, someone who isn't afraid to stare, get handsy, an average Monday afternoon for Soap.

So when Soap found out his pretty neighbour was just as unashamed in staring as he was.... Well he had to use that to his advantage.

It was a Saturday morning, a rare day of peace for him. You went outside to have your coffee in the early morning breeze and just by chance Soap went outside to take the bin bags out it was one plastic bag with literally nothing in. He was shirtless, wearing grey joggers and no boxers. You got a full view of his thick, heavy cock and you stared. You didn't care if he saw you because if he didn't want you to stare then he wouldn't wear joggers with nothing else.

'G'mornin' Soap smirked but you paid no mind. Too busy watching his cock twitch and gods it was mouth watering.

You whined. WHINED. Slightly when Soap walked back inside. Abandoning your coffee, you went back inside and found which room he was in. Lucky for you he was in his bedroom and you could see everything from your bedroom. Again, you had no shame in staring and the smug bastard Soap is, smirked and pulled his joggers down slightly so you saw some bush and it made your knee's weak.

Oh 2 can play at this game

So the next morning, at exactly 7:30am you went outside to have your morning coffee but this time you wore the tiniest sleeping shorts you own and the tightest vest top you bought yesterday and waited. As soon as Soap walked outside with a little plastic bag again and just his grey joggers you quickly pushed your boobs together and leaned against your door.

'Mornin' Johnny' You purred his name so sweetly. Now this time it was Soaps turn to stare.

Unfortunately, or maybe not, for you Soap has absolutely zero restraint for his pretty neighbour. He's honestly so surprised he lasted this long but seeing you in the tiniest, tightest sleepwear had his cock twitching and getting hard. Soap hadn't even made it to you properly before his joggers were pulled down enough to show his beautiful cock. He pushed you inside before you manage to get onto your knees for him.

'Fuckin' tease' He groaned

I hope I did this justice. That image is now burned into my mind, in a good way. Love me some grey joggers

It won't let me attach the photo :'((( so again the original post and photo is here

soap is a milf chaser. period.

i dare y'all to fight me on that.

HIS BOYFRIEND CAME DRESSED AS SOAP!!!!

Bro I'm at a houseparty high (I tried edibles for the first time) and there's someone dressed up at Ghost 🫠

Oh hunnie. Yes just YES!!!

Johnny get's turned on when you call him mutt. No I will not elaborate further

Johnny get's turned on when you call him mutt. No I will not elaborate further

My favourite artist just liked 141 - Stickers and I'm just 😭😭

I've really made it in life 😭😭😭

It's @littlebit-of-art ❤️😭😭

141 - First Words

So my baby said his first word the other day and mine and my partners reaction was fucking hilarious. Now I can't stop thinking about the 141 reaction to their baby saying Dada for the first time

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish would cry, like ugly tears type crying. No he does not care about the snot coming out of his nose, his precious baby just said Dada. He was on the floor playing with baby MacTavish during tummy time, you were in the kitchen cleaning up after you and Soap decided to bake Making another baby. Baby MacTavish is a chatter box like their daddy, always babbling and Soap answered back to baby MacTavish's very interesting story. Soap didn't hear it at first, he thought it was babbling nonsense until he heard it again. The simple word Dada and he's picking baby MacTavish up and rushing to the kitchen 

Thay said Dada

Soap holding baby MacTavish up like a prize

Fuck off, you're lying (Your baby was growing up too quickly)

Their first word was Dada

Soap was already crying

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick would be shocked, swears he's going deaf because no way baby Garrick is talking already. Gaz was bouncing baby Garrick on his knee, pulling funny faces to hear their belly laugh, you were on Netflix trying to find a movie to watch. You were both were in your own world before baby Garrick screamed then ever so quietly said Dada, you and Gaz's head snapped towards each other as you stared at each other 

Did they -

I think so

Gaz turning to baby Garrick

Did you say Dada? You can't have, you were born like last week

Babe they're 8 months old now 

Nope. Still a wrinkly baby 

Captain John Price would just smile, like a smug smile that baby Price's first word Dada. Make's him feel like he's the favourite parent Not realising that when baby Price is upset you can use the fact they can only say Dada against him "Sorry baby, they want you :)". Knowing Price's luck, baby Price will say Dada when he's at work. As soon as you hear the words you're on the phone ringing Price, he picks up at the first ring scared something happened. When you tell him what happened you best believe he's dropping everything to come home, doesn't matter if he's in a very important meeting with Laswell. Baby Price said Dada, he must go home at once

Price coming home and runs straight past you

See, I'm the favourite parent 

John Baby... That's not how that works-

Price is ignoring you as he's kissing baby Price's cheeks 

I'm gonna buy you anything you want. Just say Dada again. Please

Simon 'Ghost' Riley also cries. He'll cry silent tears as he holds baby Riley to his chest, years ago he never thought he'd have his own family and now he's here. Witnessing his baby's first words. Ghost, being the excellent father he is, basically forced you to finally go out for girls night knowing you needed time to yourself. Ghost couldn't wait for a night of tummy time, playing and just straight up cuddling while watching Bluey. Baby Riley was laid on their daddy's chest, trying to fight sleep but failing miserably and just before baby Riley fell asleep they said Dada as they clutched to Ghost's shirt.

Did you say Dada

Ghost didn't move realising baby Riley is now asleep

God I never thought I'd love anyone more then I love your mummy

Ghost carefully hugs baby Riley tighter 

But then you came into my life. Best thing to ever happy to me and your mummy  

I really want to write another headcanon for the 141 but I have zero ideas 🥲

Nurse!Reader x 141 and stickers

How I think the 141 would act if Nurse!Reader gives out stickers to all the soldiers they patch up on base: This is my first headcanon

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish absolutely fucking loves the stickers, like he's lowkey obsessed with getting one. His sketchbook is covered in the stickers you give him and if there's no more room for the stickers that's okay. He'll just buy a new one. Lowkey gets pouty and sassy if you forget to give him a sticker after patching him up.

And we are done. Good as new 

Soap wait's patiently with his hand stuck out 

What are you waiting for Soap?

Fur mah sticker. Obviously

Oh shit. Sorry, I forgot

Whit dae ye mean ye forgot? dae ye nae care aboot me anymair

Grow up you drama Queen

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick Is a bit like Soap in a way he loves the stickers. They make him happy in this fuck up world, when he get's his sticker for being a brave boy, as you say, he wears the sticker all day as a badge of honour but if he looses the stickers randomly in the day he gets kinda pouty when he asks for another one 

Can I have another sticker please?

Did you loose yours already?

I didn't mean too! I think Soap stole mine. Pretty please can I have another one

You know the rules. Unless you're injured I'm not giving you a stickers

Cue puppy dog eyes

Goddamit Kyle. Fine, here's your sticker but don't loose it

Captain John Price felt a bit silly at first when you gave him a sticker. He's grown man, he doesn't need a sticker for getting patched up but he very quickly grew to love receiving a sticker off you. He asked if you'd tare the paper the sticker is on, they're easier to save then. He doesn't stick them anywhere but has a small box in his office where he stashes them. For safe keeping.

Why don't you wear the stickers?

Because it ruins them

Ruins them?

Yeah. I like to hold onto them

Do you stick them anywhere?

Nope. I have a small box specifically for the stickers you give me 

Simon 'Ghost' Riley thought the stickers were a stupid idea, he's a grown ass man. Why would he want a sticker for getting patched up? He isn't a child. That's what he tells you but secretly he adores them. He'll moan and grumble as you slap one onto his chest but the moment he's in his room, Ghost will carefully peel it off his shirt and stick it in a scrapbook. Once got a little upset you didn't give him a sticker, he left the infirmary pretending he didn't care but 1 hour later he came back

Why didn't you give me a sticker?

Because you don't like them. You said they were stupid

Well. That's because they are. M'not a child

Then why are you asking why I didn't give you a sticker?

Ghost quietly grumbling and sticking his hand out

Can I just have my sticker please 

Paperwork

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x WolfHybrid!FemReader

Warning: Cockwarming possible poorly written (I'm sorry if it is)

!!MDNI!!

In the echoing confines of the training room, you and Johnny clashed, a symphony of snarls and grunts. Your agility had kept you nimbly out of his reach, effortlessly dodging Johnny's relentless strikes. He begins taunting you, "Dinna fash yersel, wee lassie. I'm just gettin' warmed up."

But Johnny's playful smirk quickly turns into a serious expression as he lunges at you, his movements as swift as a Highland gale. In a flash, he grabs your collar and yanks you harshly to the floor. Your body collides with the soft matts, and Johnny's weight pins you down. 

"That's not fair!" You whine, struggling to free yourself. Your teeth flash as you attempt to nip at his hand, but he anticipates your move and swiftly grabs your jaw.

With a firm grip, Soap holds onto your jaw, preventing you from biting or snapping back at him. His other hand still clutches tightly onto your collar, keeping you pinned firmly against the hard ground. "Aye, tis nae fair ," he says, chuckling lowly as he looks down at you. "But if ye wantae win, ye gotta learn how tae fight dirty."

His eyes, a stormy shade of blue, bore into yours. There's a glint of mischief in them, mixed with a hint of danger. He leans closer, his breath warm against your face, the scent of sweat and gunpowder surrounding you.

"Ye think ye've got this all figured out, eh?" he teases, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Johnny's hand tightened around your collar, pulling you roughly towards him. Your eyes narrowed, and you unleashed a torrent of curses in your native tongue. You fought against his grip, your muscles tensing and straining. But Johnny remained unyielding, his grip like iron.

Suddenly, an idea sparked in your mind. You let your body go limp, your muscles relaxing. Johnny's grip loosened momentarily, and you seized the opportunity. With a swift twist of your body, you rolled to the side, kicking your feet up to catch him off guard.

He tumbled to the ground, his surprise evident. You didn't waste a second, you scrambled to pin him down. Pinning his hands above his head, and you bared your teeth at him.

Caught off guard by your sudden manoeuvre, Johnny found himself staring up at you. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a smirk despite the situation. His eyes gleamed with a mix of admiration and amusement.

"Aye, ye sneaky wee devil," he muttered, his voice filled with both respect and a touch of exasperation. "I'll give ye that much... ye're quick oan yer feet."

Even though he was pinned beneath you, there was an air of control about him. It was as if he was enjoying this dance of power between you two. His muscles flexed under your hold, his strength palpable even while restrained.

"But dinnae think ye've won yit," he warned, his tone teasing but also carrying a note of challenge.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the thrill of the chase making your blood rush. You leaned forward, your hot breath tickling his neck as you growled softly, the sound vibrating through your chest. Your tail flicked restlessly behind you, a clear sign of your excitement.

"Don't think I won't bite you again," you hissed, your words punctuated by sharp canines. Your claws dug into his wrists, your grip tightening as you attempted to maintain dominance over him.

The corners of Johnny's mouth curled upward, a smug grin spreading across his face. Despite the pressure of your paws on his wrists and the threat of your teeth, he wasn't afraid. Instead, he met your gaze with a challenging glint in his own.

"Oh really? Ye think ye hae me cornered noo, dae ye? " he teased, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. He twisted his wrists, attempting to free them from your grasp. At the same time, he lifted his hips slightly, creating enough space to swipe one of his legs out.

His leg shot out in a swift motion, catching you off guard. You felt his foot connect with your side, a solid hit that sent pain radiating through your body.

Feeling the impact of his kick, you let out a surprised yelp, your grip loosening ever so slightly. "You twat!" You grunted, your voice laced with both anger and amusement.

At your curse, Johnny couldn't help but laugh, the sound deep and hearty. His laughter echoed through the training room, mixing with the clanging of weights and the hum of machinery.

"Ye called me names," he said mockingly, using the momentary distraction to wriggle free from your grasp. In a swift movement, he flipped their positions, pinning you underneath him once more.

"Now where were we?" he mused, leaning in close until his lips hovered mere inches away from your ear. "Ah yes, ye were aboot tae bite me..."

As you felt his body press against yours, you squirmed underneath him, your tail wagging excitedly behind you. A soft whimper escaped your lips, your breath hitching as his warm breath ghosted over your sensitive ear.

"You're such a bully..." You murmured, your voice barely audible. Your claws traced idle patterns on his chest, each stroke light and teasing.

His eyes twinkled with mischief as he looked down at you, his expression softening just a fraction. Despite the roughhousing, there was something undeniably tender about his gaze.

"Aye, well, someone's gotta teach ye some manners," he replied, his voice a low rumble. His hands roamed your sides, tracing the curves of your body before settling on your waist.

"And besides," he added, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper, "Ah kinda lik' husin ye beneath me."

"I don't know why I put up with you..." you grumbled, though your words lacked any real heat. Your tail swished back and forth, brushing against his thigh in a playful manner.

But then, without warning, you bucked your hips upward, trying to dislodge him from his position. The move was unexpected, and it earned you a grunt of surprise from Johnny.

Feeling your hips rise to meet his, Johnny bit back another chuckle. He was used to your antics by now, the playful banter and the occasional wrestling match. And though they started as simple exercises to keep fit, they'd somehow evolved into something more – something that left him yearning for more than just physical contact.

"Dinnae try tae get outta this," he scolded, his voice a playful reprimand. "Ye might enjoy th' view fae doon 'ere..."

With a swift motion, he captured your hands. This time, however, instead of holding onto them tightly, he cradled them gently in his palms, careful not to hurt you in his eagerness.

"Look at ye, a' squirming 'n' cute," he murmured, his voice dripping with lustful intent.

You push against his chest, but he doesn't budge. "I'm not cute!" You huff, sticking your bottom lip out. You wiggle underneath him, trying to escape his grip. "Don't you have some paperwork to finish? Price will have your ass if it's not done."

Johnny chuckled, the rich sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. He shifted his weight, pinning you more firmly beneath him.

"Aye, ah suppose ye'r right," he said, his voice a teasing drawl. "Bit whaur wid be th' fin in that""

He lowered his head, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers coursing through your body.

"Ah cuid always ask Price tae wait a bit longer," he suggested, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

"John MacTavish," you scolded, your voice laced with mock exasperation as you used his full name. "If you don't do this paperwork, he'll have both of our asses."

You twisted and squirmed, desperate to escape his playful hold. Finally, with a surge of effort, you wriggled free and scrambled to your feet. Planting your paws firmly on the ground, you put a hand on your hip and raised an eyebrow at Johnny.

"And I'm not about to get done because you can't do your job," you added, your tail flicking back and forth. Knowing you weren't allowed to walk around the base by yourself, you turned on your heels and walked out of the training room knowing Johnny will have to follow you.

Watching you saunter off, Johnny couldn't help but grin. There was something incredibly sexy about your confidence, your determination to outrun him. It only spurred him on further.

"Och, ah will git it dane a'richt ," he assured you, following closely behind. "Juist as soon as a've hud mah fill o' chasing efter ye."

The chase was on, Johnny's long strides eating up the distance between them. But despite his speed, he knew he wouldn't catch up easily. You were quick on your paws, and he found himself enjoying the game.

"But ah think Price Micht juist appreciate th' mae wirk ah pat in ," he added with a wink, reaching out to grab a hold of your tail.

As he reached for your tail, you swivelled around, swatting his hand away with a sharp, "Ah ah ah. No touching." Your finger wagged playfully in front of his face. "You're supposed to be my handler, remember? Keep me in place."

Folding your arms beneath that tantalizing bust, you smirked. You knew Johnny MacTavish all too well. "Let's make a deal, shall we?" You purred.

Caught off guard by your sudden turn, Johnny stumbled slightly, his hand coming up to steady himself against the wall. He watched you with amusement, your playful demeanour only serving to heighten his arousal.

"A deal, huh?" he repeated, stepping closer until he was mere inches away from you. "'n' whit kind o' deal wid that be?"

You leaned in close, your breath hot on his ear. "I'll sit on your cock while you do the paperwork." You pulled away and smirked at him. "Deal?"

At your offer, Johnny's eyebrows shot up in surprise. A grin spread across his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delight. The idea of having you sitting on his lap, your tight warmth wrapped around his cock...it was enough to make his heart race.

"Weel, noo," he began, his voice dropping to a low purr. "That does sound lik' a tempting proposition ."

Reaching out, he placed a hand on your hip, giving it a firm squeeze. "A'richt, bonnie. Ye git yerself a deal."

Without waiting for your response, Johnny grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you up onto his shoulders, carrying you towards his office.

As you were carried over his shoulder, you let out a laugh, your body shaking with mirth. The sensation of being manhandled sent a thrill coursing through your veins, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement.

"Careful there, big guy," you teased, patting his back lightly. "Don't want to drop the merchandise."

He chuckled and carried you into his office, placing you gently on his desk. You jumped down and began to remove your trousers and panties. Watching you undress, Johnny felt his pulse quicken. Your figure, bare before him, was a sight to behold. The anticipation made his cock twitch in excitement. As you turned around, you noticed Johnny leaning back in his chair, his trousers already unzipped.

"You better get your work done," you warned playfully, straddling his lap. "Because I won't move until It's finished."

"Easy thare," he murmured, reaching up to run his hands along your thighs. "We wouldn't waant ony accidents noo, wid we?" Feeling you settle onto his lap, Johnny groaned in pleasure. Your heat seeped into him, causing his cock to harden even more.

"Right then," he said, pulling open the drawer of his desk to retrieve the paperwork. "Time tae git tae wirk." With a wicked grin, he slid his cock out from his trousers and positioned it at your entrance.

You lower yourself onto his lap, letting a little moan slip out as he stretches you deliciously. His hands move to your hips, holding you steady as you got comfy, your body begging for more even as you try to keep still. You lean in, your warm breath tickling his ear as you whisper, "Now be a good boy and get your paperwork done."

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as you rest your head on his shoulder. You can feel his heart pounding in his chest, matching your own as you try to keep yourself under control. You feel him swallow hard, then his hands move from your hips to the papers on his desk, shuffling them into neat piles as he begins to work.

Feeling you settle onto his lap, Johnny bit back a groan. Your warmth enveloped him completely, making his cock throb inside your pussy.

"Workin' solid ," he managed to grunt out, his hands moving smoothly over the paperwork. "Juist lik' ah promised ."

His fingers brushed against your fur as he shuffled the documents, the contact sending sparks of pleasure shooting up his arm. Despite the intense focus required for their task, he could feel his resolve crumbling.

"A'm gaun tae fuck ye sae hard ," he whispered into your ear, his grip tightening on your hips. "'n' ye'r gonnae love every second o' it."

He gave a small thrust upwards, testing how much weight you'd allow him to take. His cock twitched inside you, eager for more.

Your back arches as you gasp, feeling his cock twitch inside you. You bite your lip, trying to hold back the sounds threatening to escape as you fight to stay quiet. You look down at him, your eyes darkening with lust as they lock onto his.

"Only if you finish your paperwork," You purred softly, your tail twitching behind you. The tip of your tail gently teased his nose, tickling it ever so slightly. "Work with me here."

Hearing your soft plea, Johnny couldn't help but chuckle. His free hand moved to stroke your tail, the silky strands sliding between his fingers.

"Aye, bonnie," he murmured, his words thick with desire. "Ye'v git yersel' a deal."

With renewed vigour, he dove back into the paperwork, his other hand keeping a firm grip on your hips. Despite the intense concentration required, he couldn't ignore the way your pussy clenched around his cock or the soft whimpers escaping from your lips.

"Ah hae this sorted in na time," *he assured you, giving another upward thrust. "Ah promise ye tha'."

"Ah, Johnny..." You whispered, your voice muffled as your face was buried deep in the crook of his neck. "Stop moving," you pleaded, your body trembling slightly as you tried your best to stay still.

Hearing your plea, Johnny paused momentarily, taking a moment to appreciate the sweet agony of your pussy clenching around his cock. He could feel every ripple and twitch, each one sending waves of pleasure through his body.

"But," he started, a smirk playing on his lips. "how am ah s'posed tae concentrate wi' ye wrigglin' aboot like that?"

He shifted beneath you, angling his hips so that he could hit deeper spots within your cunt. His grip on your hips tightened, guiding you up and down his length in slow, torturous movements.

"I'm not moving," you murmured, your voice a sultry purr. You pulled your face away from his neck, your eyes narrowing. "And stop gaslighting me." Your words lacked their usual venom. It was foolish to think that merely warming his cock would make him do his paperwork.

Johnny chuckled, feeling a rush of arousal surge through him at your feisty response. He loved it when you fought back, adding an extra layer of spice to their encounters.

"Oh? So ye're nae movin', are ye?" he drawled, his hands tightening on your hips as he began to thrust up into you once again. "Then what's that wee twitch ye just gave me?"

He could feel your pussy fluttering around his cock, clenching and unclenching rhythmically as if it had a mind of its own. His own hips jerked upwards involuntarily, driving himself deeper into your welcoming heat.

"I swear tae God, bonnie," he grunted, his voice strained with pleasure. "Ah'm nae gonnae last lang at this rate."

In a swift and ruthless motion, he swept everything off his desk. Pens and papers flew through the air like a whirlwind, ornaments crashed to the ground, and his work laptop teetered on the edge before plummeting to the floor.

As the last paper settled, Johnny roughly pushed you back onto his desk. Your body collided with the hard surface, sending a jolt of pain through your frame. You let out a whimper as he leaned over you, his eyes glinting with a mix of arousal and dominance.

Seeing the chaos around them, Johnny couldn't help but laugh. His laughter turned into a growl as he felt your body shudder under his touch. "Well now, dinnae say Ah didnae warn ye," *he said, his voice husky and low.* "Ah'm gonnae fuck ye senseless."

Without wasting any more time, he gripped your hips tightly and began to pound into you, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure coursing through his veins. His cock slid easily within your wet folds, filling you completely.

"Gonnae scream my name, ain't ye?" he taunted, his pace increasing.

The roughness of his touch sent shivers down your spine, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. Every single one of his thrusts elicited a loud moan from you, your body quivering underneath him.

"Y-yes!" You cried out, your voice echoing throughout the room. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you held onto him tightly. "I'm going to scream... I'm going to scream your name!"

Feeling your claws digging into his flesh only spurred him on further. Each thrust became harder, faster, more desperate.

"Ah ken ye will, bonnie," he groaned, his cock throbbing inside of you. "Ah kin hear ye pantin', see yer eyes glaze o'er. Ye loue it whin ah tak' ye lik' this, dinnae ye?"

His hands moved lower, gripping your ass firmly as he lifted you slightly towards him. The angle change allowed him to hit even deeper spots within your pussy, making your cries louder and more frantic.

Your body trembled violently beneath him, your pussy clamping down on his cock like a vice. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, threatening to pull you under.

"Yes... Fuck... Johnny..." your words came out in broken gasps, your body arching off the desk. "I..... Fuck I do..." You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you. The sensation of being filled so completely by him made stars dance behind your eyelids.

Hearing his name roll off your lips like a sacred mantra, Johnny felt a surge of possessiveness wash over him. He could tell you were close, your walls tightening around his cock.

"That's it, bonnie," he encouraged, his voice thick with lust. "Let go. Let me hear ye cum."

With renewed vigour, he slammed into you, his balls slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust. The sound echoed through the room, mingling with your screams and the soft thud of things hitting the floor.

Your climax hit you like a freight train, ripping through your senses and leaving nothing but pure, raw pleasure in its wake. Your pussy spasmed around his cock.

"Johnny!" you screamed his name, your voice high-pitched and desperate. "Fuck! I'm...."

But the rest of your sentence got lost amidst the tidal wave of orgasm crashing over you. Your body convulsed uncontrollably, your inner walls pulsating around his cock.

The sensation of your pussy squeezing him tight was all it took to send Johnny over the edge. With a deep growl, he buried himself deep inside you as his own release ripped through him.

"Ahh fuck," he roared, his voice booming through the room.

His seed spilled into you, hot and heavy. He kept pounding into you relentlessly until both of your orgasms subsided, leaving them both breathless and spent.

Caught in the throes of passion, you lay sprawled across Johnny's office desk, your form still trembling from the ecstasy. Johnny leaned close, his forehead resting on yours. "Urr ye okay, bonnie?" he asked gently, his hand cupping your cheek to force you to meet his gaze.

Nodding, you struggled to speak, your body still wracked by the aftershocks of your orgasm. Johnny smiled, his rugged features softening. He pulled you into a tender kiss, his rough hands caressing your skin.

COD Masterlist

141 Headcanons

Stickers First Words

Captain John Price

Loving Husband pt 1 Loving Husband pt 2 Loving Husband pt 3

Loving Husband pt 4 Loving Husband pt 5

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Na'vi!Ghost

💋

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

Paperwork

Grey Joggers

Kyle 'Gas' Garrick

Alejandro Vargas

Beautiful

🏍️

Little thief Mi amor

Rodolfo 'Rudy' Parra

I hate you

König

Games

idk this seemed funnier in my head

THE GUYZ

y/n: Simon you're the meanest person I know 💀 the other day I asked you if I was pretty and you said "yeah. Pretty annoying" 😡

Ghost 💀: I was literally joking! How could you not tell

y/n: Keep 1 eye open tonight

Ghost 💀: What was that supposed to mean

y/n: 💀💀💀

Ghost 💀: OK THAT'S NOT FUNNY I'M LITERALLY GOING TO STAY UP ALL NIGHT AND LOOK AT THE DOOR

y/n: I'M JOKING GHOST

Ghost 💀: Well that joke wasn't fucking funny!

y/n: Bro you are like 6'4, you could overpower me in a heartbeat 💀

Ghost 💀: 6'6 actually, and height doesn't mean strength

y/n: You're just pure muscle I wanna be underneath

Gaz ✨: AYO WHAT???

Soap 🧼: ARE Y'ALL HEARING THIS

y/n: 🛐🛐🛐 < me at Ghost rn

Hi Sweet🖤

do you write for Alejandro Vargas as well? and what are your writing rules??

Hi darling!

I haven't forgotten about you or anyone, I've just been getting ready for the arrival of my baby boy and been having a lot of false contractions (been pretty scary)

I most certainly do write for Alejandro and Rudy. It may take a while because I don't speak Spanish and I don't want to use google translate

As for my writing rules, they will change over time but for now:

~ I write for all CoD men (Some will take longer then others)

~ Smut is 50/50 right now just because I'm just getting to writing

~ I write angst and fluff

~ I will NOT write anything that uses piss/scat

Soap and Gaz loves Burlesque with Christina Aguilera and you can't change my mind

They watch it at least once a week

I know I said I'm going to start writing lil drabbles (and I will!!!)

I don't know if it's the baby brain or the stress that I'm due to give birth soon I can't think of any ideas

So please send me requests!!