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macravishedbymactavish · 1 year

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Hugging Headcanons (TF141 + König x GN!Reader)

Turns out, I'm better at full paragraph writing then headcanons, but we do our best in this house.

TW: Light swearing (like 2-3 words at most), little bit of cheeky adult(ish. Major ISH) behaviour, and mentions of anxiety/overthinking

Soap:

If he had it his way, he'd be hugging you constantly. Loves (and I mean LOVES) physical contact and just being close to you in general.

He is also very vocal about this. From the beginning of your relationship he's made it known that he L I V E S for physical contact.

His favourite way to hug you is from behind, especially when you're not expecting it. The little jump then relaxing when you realize it's him brings him so much joy.

100% content with holding you from behind like this, chin resting on your shoulder as you do things.

Cooking? He'll be there, likely stealing some of the food before it's served (and laughing when he gets smacked with the spoon).

Paperwork? He'll try to hold you with one arm and write with the other, until Ghost or Price gives him shit because you're both now working at half your normal pace.

Anywhere, anytime. He's going to try to hug you.

If at any point you stop and think: "does Soap want a hug" the answer is yes. Always yes.

Soap always wants a hug, please hug him.

Ghost:

Would either be 100% hesitant and unsure of what he's doing, or 100% confident and assertive. No inbetween for this.

I feel he doesn't dislike physical contact (quite the opposite actually), but rather just hasn't had any physical or emotional connections in quite a while. So long in fact that he's grown fine without it. Until you came around.

Like context pre-hug aside, he probably did the cliche "tense right up then relax once he realizes he's safe" the first time you hugged him. Now he's hooked on the warmth of your body, the way you feel pressed into him, and how automatically relaxed he gets while being hugged.

Since he strikes me as someone who isn't huge on PDA (he's a rather private person) as much as he wants to hold you 24/7, he reserves this for moments when it's just the two of you.

The exception to the rule being stressful missions or any time when he was concerned for your wellbeing. He will gladly hold you close to remind himself that you're okay. No matter where you are, just a reminder that you're still here. You're still his. He pays no mind to anyone else in that moment outside of you and him.

He would NOT be open to questions or explanations the first time this happens, especially if it's in front of the guys. Yes, he's proud of you. Yes he's happy your his. No, they don't need to know every detail of your relationship.

Price:

I can see him being the "little bit obnoxious but a lot of love bear hug" type. Like you can't breathe but that's okay, he loves you a lot.

Much like Ghost - not huge on PDA. Partially because he likes to keep his personal life and work life seperate. But also a professional thing.

He leads a team, he has to keep up appearances. He also doesn't feel like dealing with his sergeants teasing the life out of him for being a softie.

He's also not a teenager anymore, his "I need to touch you at every minute of every hour" days are over. He's perfectly content holding you when appropriate/when he can.

He tries his best to balance work and home. Hugs and loving talks before bed are a MUST in this household. Of course you'll cuddle up in bed, but he makes a point to love up on you a bit more while you're both awake and can remember it.

Like everyone on this list: long hugs before he's deployed and when he first comes home. But I feel like his are more worth mentioning? He's been in the military either the entire time or majority of the time you've been with him. So because of that, you've sacrificed so much for this relationship so he could pursue his career/what feels right. The least he can do is set aside time for just you, to let you feel even a whisper of closure before he goes/when he returns.

I just imagine in the kitchen, tight hug. Ready to say goodbye, as he whispers stuff to you. Like whether it be bits of your vows, quotes he knows you live by, or just how much he adores you for everything. He would make an absolute point to give you another piece of his soul to treasure before he leaves (we can get into this more later if wanted)

Gaz

Another very playful soul. Not outward on PDA, but won't give up a chance to hug you quick or keep a hand on the small of your back.

You rank pretty high on the better things he has in life (if not on top), of course he's going to show you off. He landed a partner who is gorgeous inside and out.

As shown in game, he is a cheeky mf. So expect this to translate into the physical contact.

Mid-hug he may grab a handful of your ass, or start peppering kisses to your neck if hugging you from behind - then pretend like nothing happened (obviously in private. Time and place for everything folks).

I can see him being big on having his arm around your shoulders quite often. Like in resuraunts, resting his arm on the back of your chair, or doing the same while sitting on the couch with you. Just casual contact, a small flex of "they're mine, crazy right?"

Expect to be pulled into a tight hug, then dipped during your first kiss at your wedding. A little bit of flair and spice on your big day. Especially considering he got so flustered after your second or third date, that instead of going in for a goodbye/goodnight kiss he chickened out and opted to hug you close instead.

You melted when he told you that one night, when recounting the many stories and memories from your relationship.

So hugs, needless to say are pretty symbolic in your relationship

König

(Side note: I live and breathe the fact that his social anxiety is canon. I've never related to a character faster)

As anyone with social anxiety knows: it's not about whether you like physical contact or not -- it's normally the overthinking about "Do I initiate? Do I not? Do I pull away first? Am I hugging them for too long? Is this weird?"

He's very sweet overall, but quite awkward and overthinks hugging you initially. But wishes so much that you'd hug him over and over again.

He almost melts the first time you do, but is another "cliche freezes then relaxes" because he's so nervous. He really enjoys your company, he doesn't want to mess this up. He wants this to feel as nice and loving for you as it does for him.

Needless to say, it takes a little while and a lot of reassurance for him to get comfortable hugging you first. But when this day comes, oh boy watch out.

He will hug you at any opportunity. From behind hugs, side hugs, bear hugs, quick hugs, hugs where you do that little sway thing, hugs where you lightly rub the other persons back. He loves them all equally.

He especially loves hugs where you rest your face against his chest, and relax into him. Letting all the stress from your day fade for even a moment (because that's how he has always felt when you hugged him)

He found it both comical and endearing when you dragged a chair from across the room to in front of him to stand on so you could either (depending on your height and the chair)

1) Press your face into his neck without him having to bend right down

2). Let him rest his head against your chest and relax.

Not that he'd ever admit it out loud, but that's the memory he finds himself thinking back to when he can't sleep during a long deployment. Or when he needs a quick pick-me-up after a long day.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @v1naco @bowtruckleninja

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lazybutsmexy · 1 year

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NOOO NO NO NO TAKE IT BACK APOLOGY W TEARS RN IM SOBBING CRYING DON'T DO THIS TO ME THIS IS A PERSONAL ATTACK(it was delicious, scrumptious wow i love seeing sadness) MAKE IT BETTER OW OW BRING THEM BACK(it was so good i love your writing eating it up yumyumyum) I crave more of them all being platonic (HURT/COMFORT?!??!) plsplspls begging for crumbs in tears ill do anything

Hmmm... I am a slut for hurt/comfort myself...

Task Force + affectionate reader Pt. 3

Pt. 1 Pt. 2

Warnings: HURT/COMFORT, bit of cursing.

The people who smile the most are often the saddest. The people who share the most love often don't feel any towards themselves.

Or: it's your team's turn to show affection

It was one of those days.

One of those days where you didn't have the energy to care about yourself. You were able to keep up with your little routines around base, somehow. But it was dimmed, a matte finish to what was once all shiny and sparkly.

Because it was one of those days.

You always became like this after taking leave for longer than two days. You'd visit your family during that time - or rather, they would come to you as soon as they realized you were at your place downtown and not the barracks - and bombard you with anything they set their minds to.

No matter how grueling your missions were, your family always managed to make you feel even more drained during leave. Their constant demands and mental games, the guilt-tripping and manipulation, always made you feel as if you were walking on eggshells around them.

Tracking down and dismantling human trafficking rings seemed like a walk in the park compared to dealing with them.

You personally tried your best to keep your personal problems away from your work, greeting everyone around you with the same cheery tone, and going about your little routine with the others as usual.

But they had started to notice how your smile didn't reach your eyes, and how you seemed unable to shake off the frown in your brows.

And to avoid unwanted questions that you were too ashamed to answer, you simply chose to distance yourself.

Price shared a look with Ghost, who stood across the room from him, and he shared the same concern in his eyes as they watched you walk into the debrief room

you sat yourself at the back, whereas you'd usually choose to sit in the middle of your team

they immediately knew what was going to happen, you were about to start isolating yourself.

they were having none of that.

Price had always kept a close eye on the family relations of his team members.

it was a security measure, after all, to make sure that not only they weren't targeted by dangerous people, but also to make sure they were no connected in any way to their missions.

but in your case it was different, he monitored your family to make sure they never stayed close to you for too long.

it seemed it hadn't been enough this time, and he saw your haggard state as the consequence of that failure.

he would definitely fix that

he began talking to both Laswell and his superiors to get you one of the smaller houses within base

even though you were unmarried and didn't have any children, he knew it would be impossible for those pesky family members to get close to your home without permission

your parents had managed to talk your landlord into giving them access to your apartment - that would not happen under Price's watch

he would actually blacklist them if he had the chance to do so

he wouldn't let you know he was trying to get you a house, at first - he didn't want you to feel like a burden

but he was not exactly subtle when he began asking what colors you preferred on your walls, if you minded only having a shower head or if you preferred a bathtub, etc

Soap wasn't subtle at all, oh no

boy got you hooked in a one-arm hug for as long as you'd let him

that could be a few minutes or all day long, he didn't mind one bit

endlessly squeezed and smooched on your hairline whenever he caught you lost in thought

definitely the one to (lovingly) manhandle you into a blanket burrito and snuggle you into his lap to watch movies

surprisingly a great cook, he would go all out and cook you whatever your comfort food was

it didn't matter if it was 3 AM

you would be fed, and you could almost taste the love he poured in it

definitely wore a 'kiss the cook' apron to make you giggle and try to get a smooch from you

Gaz is the king of self care

you would not let your skincare/hair routine go under his watch

he would do it for you if you didn't have the energy to do so

he would just sit you on the toilet and he'd take care of all the steps of your skincare routine

if he didn't have all the steps memorized, he definitely had a bulletpoint list of specific instructions to guide himself

same with your hair - trust this man with your hair, you won't regret it, ever

this man had magic hands for scalp massages fight me if you disagree

if you aren't comfortable being nude in front of him, he would simply put a chair in front of the sink like a makeshift hair wash basin and work like that

if you were comfortable being nude in front of him, he would make it into a full-body wash

after working with your hair, he would scrub your body down

every now and then he would massage your tired muscles while telling you how much he appreciated you as both his teammate and his friend

after shower cuddles were a must

you would very likely doze off in his arms while he held you impossibly close to him

Ghost didn't see himself as a person capable of comforting others

but all doubts flew through the window the moment he saw your downcast gaze and a tired hunch of your shoulders

at this point in time, you had become about 80% of the team's moral incentive

of course he knew it was quite unfair to dump all of that on you, he supposed you would have your down days too

but you were part of a team, and no one fought alone - be it terrorist organizations or their own inner demons

he would work alongside Price to get you a new living place

any person trying to ask you stupid and/or unwanted questions would find themselves at the other end of one of his famous death glares

or at the aim of his fist

when you approached him to pat him on the shoulder like always, pretending that everything was all right, he placed his own hand on your shoulder

he looked into your eyes and spoke to you with such sincerity that you were shaken to the core

"...You know that you are just as deserving of love as everyone else, right?"

moments later, you were clutching his middle, with your face buried in his chest while he hugged you tightly

he didn't mind that his shirt felt a little wetter with your tears

he focused on stroking your hair and rubbing your back, while glaring at anyone who dared to look at you questioningly

he would let you hug him until your arms fell off if that's what you needed

more cuddles!!

...he wouldn't mind it too much either if Soap and Gaz joined in a cuddle pile - he pretended to be annoyed, but he thought it felt nice

imagine how much nicer it would feel for you :)

#ask #answered #anonymous #nonnie ask #task force 141 headcanons #captain john price headcanons #john soap mactavish headcanons #simon ghost riley headcanons #kyle gaz garrick headcanons #gaz headcanons #captain price headcanons #ghost headcanons #soap headcanons #cod mw2 headcanons #cod mwii headcanons #cod mw2 #cod mwii

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alwaysshallow · 14 days

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I always thought price would brew his own beer. And he’s so pretentious and snobby about it lmao. Complains about the beer quality when eating out and it’s low key annoying🤣. The man def says something like “a solid 7.5” after siping on some beer.

Tells everyone about his beer making. If he ain’t doing military shit, he’s at home banging his wife or brewing his beer🤣🤣🤣

-💸

LMAOOO PLEASE. "he's at home banging his wife or brewing his beer" CANON

no but..... I really see price being soooo homey and "i'll do everything by myself, don't call anyone". the kind of husband that knows how to do anything - and I mean anything. this man will make you new furniture by HAND just because he was bored (or because you broke the bed).

what is even funnier, he literally is the man that learns everything from youtube. it becomes almost irritating after his retirement; he buys a lot of crap just to try it out or to make something out of it.

there was this one situation when he wasn't home and you called a plumber - because you thought that there's no reason for you to bother your husband!! after all, it's not a minor thing, and john probably wouldn't know how to do it :/

your mistake or a perfect plan because when he finds out, he literally has this weird glint in his eyes. you just know that you're in trouble because he hates someone else touching his stuff. being in his home. after all, even boys aren't aware who you are.

prepare for long fucking session afterwards!!

#anon.💸#exilesanswers #cod x reader #captain john price #captain john price headcanons #john price x reader #price x you #x reader

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yeyinde · 1 year

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SFW Alphabet | Captain John Price

(It takes a long time to chip away at the scar tissue that covers him, hide-thick. But when you do, when those walls fall, his head lifts, eyes shining bright like a pool of azure in the morning glow, full of love and affection, and now—finally, finally— catching sight of what was there all along, that he's what you deserve, it's all worth it. Every moment.)

—notes: so sorry this took forever!!

A—AFFECTION | how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?

B—BAD HABITS | what bad habits do they have?

It's subtle at first. A gradual build, a slow burn. Ever the pragmatic leader, he's always checking on everyone. Looking them over, eyes darting between everyone. It's normal. Expected. There is something reassuring in the weight of his gaze. No matter how bad things go, there is stability to be found in the cerulean that skims over you.

It's brief, fleeting. He trusts those he surrounds himself with more than anything, and he sits on the belief that if you were injured, you'd tell him.

But then changes. The quick seconds stretch a little longer each time. His gaze lingers, and you find yourself meeting his stare more often than not.

It grows from there. The deeper you fall into his orbit, the more it branches out. His gaze is accompanied by a touch—knuckles bushing over your forearm (“alright?”), his fingers curling over your wrist ("careful, love, watch the pothole;"). Small touches that begin to linger, blooming into more. His hand is steady on the base of your spine. fingers ghosting across the small of your back when he leads you somewhere, knuckles brushing when you walk side by side. The heat of his body when he stands close to you (that becomes progressively warmer the closer he gets). His eyes find you, instantly. Cutting across a crowded room.

It warms you when you notice. When you step away to go to the washroom and find him looking up periodically, searching for you.

His affection comes in shades that get darker and darker the closer you get to him, until you find yourself feeling almost naked, bare, without his eyes on you, his hand on your body.

Price has his vices—cigars, scotch; blame and anger.

The weight of the world rests solely on his shoulders, and while he trusts the men around him to do their job, he takes the losses harder. It’s he who failed. He carries it with him, tucked into the scar tissue and the tension lines in the creases of his forehead, and the corners of his eyes. The headaches from clenching his jaw so tight.

He's an intense man. A looming storm, always battle-ready. His anger simmers low in his veins, a constant buzz under his skin. It gets easier to reign in when he has an outlet for his rage, but he slips. He's animated and biting. He'll cut you to the core, and mean everything he says. There is no hold-barred in a true battle. Claymore at the ready, he'll dig into your vulnerable points (a finely crafted captain; a man made in death), until you're leaking hurt.

But he'll never get to that point with you. He holds himself back until his nails bite into his palm. He'll storm away first. Leave. He needs space to work through his emotions, and the last thing he ever wants is to be a man like his father—throwing dishes and hands—but he gets agitated, and he can't help himself. He feels the urge to break brimming in his joints.

He'll tell you he's leaving, and he expects you to understand why. There is a line there; a delicate precipice he walks each day.

He will never hurt you. Ever. But he doesn't trust himself as much as you do. He needs distance because all he can see on your face is his mum, and he hates that his words sound just like his father.

C—CUDDLE | do they like to cuddle? how do they like to cuddle the most?

D—DATE | ideal date

He likes to have you on him. Wants your head tucked under his chin, your hand on his chest, your leg thrown over his hip. He wants to keep you there forever, nestled to his side, nails carting through his chest hair. He wants to breathe you in and feel the weight of you, solid and steady, over him. Secure in his arms. Safe and sound.

Sometimes, he likes to be on top of you, keeping you warm and secure in the bracket of his being. Tucked away from the world where nothing can hurt you. His back will take the brunt of it all as he shields you from everything.

E—ENDING | if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?

His favourite place would be this dingy little pub that plays classic rock and serves the best scotch in town. He'd bring you in the evening, tuck you into the corner where you both can sit together, and talk. He isn't a man who likes to chit-chat, but he likes the little ways you show your embarrassment whenever you have the full weight of his attention. You're smart and funny. He could listen to you talk for hours about nothing. It relaxes him.

He knows you probably had better—fancy french restaurants, sunset strolls by the sea—but this is the place where he feels he can truly let his guard slip just a little bit, and he wants to share that with you.

This is where he'd spent a great deal of time in his early career, nursing shot after shot until the demons were chased away in the malt that burned his lips, and stained his chin. It's where he picked himself up from his bootstraps and became the man he is today.

You won't know any of this, and he'd never tell you, but he thinks you somehow feel it. You ease into him. Words softer indoors. You share stories over chips, and he gets to enjoy the way the fairy lights outside catch your eyes.

For him, he prefers to bring you places of familiarity, of comfort. Small, intimate alcoves away from the worries of life. He likes to see your eyes grow a little hazy as you try his scotch, and misty when you choke on his cigar.

Direct. Blunt. There is no sense in dragging it out or mincing words. He's shattering your heart, of course, but it's a surgeon's cut. Precise and exact. You barely feel the blade when it slips into your flesh, but it's doused in finality. He's made his mind up, and there is no changing it.

F—FAMILY | do they want one?

G—GIFTS | how do they feel about gifts? how do they give them?

Yes. A big one. As big a one as you'll give him.

The idea of family has been ingrained in his head since he was young. A nuclear unit. A traditional British household. His ideals are much less rigid compared to his father's, but he's always been a man who craved kinship. He wants to bask in the extraordinary, the mundane, and the ugly with you and any number of children you'll allow him. It’s something he dreams and thinks about quite often.

If he had it his way, he'd fill up a house. Every room full. All bursting with life.

H—HUGS | how would they hug you? is it common for them to hug you?

Open moments of affection make him shift in his seat, a touch uncomfortable. He was raised a certain way, and often finds himself feeling undeserving of whatever is given to him. He's very subtle. Will stand somewhere, arms folded, lingering. He waits until it's just you and him. A private moment. He both does and doesn't want to be around when you open it.

Sometimes, he'll leave it somewhere for you to find. Other times, he stands in the background as you carefully pull it open. This, too, makes him a touch uncomfortable. The look on your face makes him feel shades softer than he has any right to be. You make him want to be a better man (and the greatest gift you've ever given him was the conviction in your voice when you tell him that he already is.)

In a casual setting, it would be one arm looped around your shoulders, tucking you into his side. The front of his body would be positioned away from you. It might seem distant and unfeeling, but he likes having you against him, and folded into the crease of his body where he can protect you the most.

Sometimes, he’ll break. After a long mission away, when he finally has a chance at peeling off the skin he wears that keeps the world in check, he’ll latch onto your wrist, and pull you close. One arm will brace against your back from hip to mid-back, and the other is looped tight around your shoulders. He locks you in completely, and crushes you to his chest. Not a silver of space will exist from where his heart beats beneath his fatigues, and where yours pounds from under your shirt.

(He is also quite a big fan of wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling your back to his chest as he leans over your shoulder in the morning, and brushes his teeth or helps you chop the veg.)

It takes a moment—a second for that part of his brain to begin to ebb into civilian normalcy, the one that is always (forever) locked in combat, one that he only gets to lock away when he’s with you; when he’s safe—and then he melts into you. A sigh leaves his chest and you feel the rattle of it through your bones as it travels through his esophagus, and out of his raw throat. It leaves his lips, stifled in the net of your hair.

Price will pull you in closer, closer still, and then draw a deep, deep breath. He’ll hold you for as along as he can.

(He is also quite a big fan of wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling your back to his chest as he leans over your shoulder in the morning, and brushes his teeth or helps you chop the veg.)

I—INJURY | how do they react if you get injured?

J—JEALOUSY | are they the jealous type? how do they deal with it?

Apoplectic fury. Enough to rattle the ground in the sheer magnitude of his anger.

Sometimes, he's good at stifling it. If it happened on the battlefield, when people's lives are at stake, he'll stem the geyser with responsibility. With purpose. No mistakes can be made out here. He has one focus, and that's getting everyone out safely. Other times, it erupts. It froths over in the hoarseness of his voice, words ripped out from deep within his chest. It's an aching cry, drenched in desperation. His rage is palpable. His eyes are burning sapphires, sharper than daggers. His fury is molten, but his resolve is ice-cold. Whoever did it, no matter who it was, will pay.

He stands tall, firm, amid it all; weathers the storm until it's finished.

But in the quiet of his own mind, his home, he crumbles.

He blames himself for it all. If only he was stronger, faster, smarter, better he could have saved you. No amount of absolution, no words nor evidence, will ever shake this guilt, but he won't wallow in it. Like all of the losses in his life, he sharpens them into weapons and wields them like a claymore. You can tell him you're fine, you're okay, but it is another weight added to the rest.

K—KISS | their favourite way to kiss you

He isn't a very jealous person. He's confident in himself, in your devotion to him. He knows you'd tell him if you were ever wavering.

But sometimes, he wonders if you're sure. If you're okay with a gruff, irritable man like him.

You deserve better than a man shaped by rough hands.

Seeing you with someone better makes him jealous, makes him seethe. He wants to give you distance, and trust, to let you decide what you want for yourself. But he can't.

He stands behind you, hands curled into the straps of his vest or on the lapels of his jacket, and stares them down.

"There a problem here?" He lowers his voice when he speaks. The muffled sound of a denotation in the distance. Eyes narrowed into slits. "No? Then fuck off."

It's childish, really. Stupid. But he likes the way you ease into him when you know he's standing behind you. When you turn, eyes wide and dark, and breathe out a shaky word of gratitude. It's become routine for him to pull you away into his office, and fuck you stupid. Until all you think about is him, and how good he makes you feel.

(Sometimes, he thinks you stage these little moments because you like his possessiveness, his jealousy, more than you let on.

And maybe he just likes to indulge you a little bit.)

L—LOVE CONFESSION | how did they confess their love?

His fingers thread through your hair, gripping a fistful at the base of your skull, and the other slung around your waist, locking you to him. No escape—not that you ever would, but he likes trapping you in the heft of his body. Likes when you squirm against him. When you push and push at his broad chest, and tremble when you realise how very negligible give there is. It makes him feel powerful in a way that is so different from orchestrating a successful recon, a mission. A man made of granite touching something soft.

Price kisses with finesse. A burning cigar left smouldering in an ashtray. He batters you into submission and kisses you like he's teaching you a lesson in discipline. In docility.

He doesn't relent until your knees quiver, and your lips and cheeks are rubbed raw, chafed by the coarse hair on his face. He locks you to him and takes his fill of you.

He leaves you feeling ruined, and conquered. And when he pulls back, taking in the heaves of your chest as you gulp for air, the redness of your lips, cheeks, and chin, and the dazed look in your eyes, you've never seen him quite so satisfied as you do then.

M—MEMORY | what are their best and worst memories?

Like everything about him, it's pointed. Concise.

He plays the long game—has to, really—and by the end of it all, of years dancing around each other until the steps become ingrained in your joints, saturated in muscle memory, he sneaks up on you. He takes you somewhere private. Tells you about his past, the scars he carries, his guilt, his failings, his shortcomings, his regrets, his selfishness—it almost feels like he's pushing you away, and giving you a laundry list of reasons to reject him. And in many ways, he is. He won't tell you about any of the good, only the bad. He'll lay his ugliness out to you, bereft of sympathy, and force you to reconcile the notion of good within him.

It doesn't work, of course. He might just see the residuum of artillery fire on his skin, but you see the grit of a man determined to sacrifice himself for it all.

You think it's a bittersweet moment when you accept, when you turn to him and say I love you, too, John.

There is winning the war and the celebration of your victory, but John is not a man who would ever forget the battles lost, and you see those shadows amid the happiness that simmers.

"Hope you know what you're gettin' yourself into," he says, as if he didn't give you every reason possible to say no, but you still said yes. "It ain't gonna be pretty, love."

And it isn't. It's ugly and brutal and full of empty promises and barren words spoken with the flavour of his vices, of things he'll never give up, and everything he wants but won't take. It's a lesson in patience and fortitude and tests your mettle every day, but you would never pick differently.

There is a stunning, ethereal beauty in the breaking of it all. In the way it shatters around you. You're cut up and scarred along with him, but it's a battle you fight together. One you win, hand-in-hand.

N—NIGHTMARE | do they have them? what are they about? reactions?

His best memory is getting out of Hereford. Of graduating and leaving home for the first time at eighteen. Everything was purged from that moment. He had a path, direction.

His worse memory is all the men he lost, the ones he promised to bring home when he was a novice, idealistic, in his youth; and all the widows he made along the way.

O—OPEN | how long did it take for them to open up to you?

He has them. Always. They sneak up on him in slow increments when he lets himself be lulled into the false sense of security that the comfort of your embrace brings.

They're always about the same thing. Isolation. He's locked in a room, shackled to a chair. All around him are bare walls. Empty. Grey. Nothing. He can hear sounds coming from just outside of the room. Yells, screams of agony, terror. They rise each night. Every dream sharpens the howls around him until they bleed with clarity.

They're the agonised shrieks of his men. His men. The ones he implicitly promised to help, to bring home.

He has to get up. He has to. Has to. The shackles fall. The chain clatter to the ground.

And—

He can't move. His legs are paralysed. Not from some phantom weight or some outside force, but from—

His commander stands above him, drenched in the blood of his comrades, and says: don't move. Let them die.

He tries to fight. To open his mouth. But he can't. Can't. He—

"Let them die."

(He does. He does. He—)

He wakes up with his heart in his throat, choking him. Cutting off the air from getting into his lungs. He presses his hand to his jaw just to feel his skin under his palm. Just to know he can. Freedom. He's not trapped.

You will find him hours later in his study or standing on the deck, smoking a cigar (two, three…), and drinking scotch. Black label. He's half finished.

His eyes are red when he looks up, bloodshot and blistered, and—

Vacant. Hollow. He offers a nod, says nothing.

(You don't think he can speak.)

He wants silence. Normalcy. You leave him for a moment, and bring back tea for two, and a book tucked under your arm. You sit with him, drinking your tea, and wait until the shadows dissolve from his eyes.

Until he's back.

His hand falls to yours. His thumb brushes over your pulse point. His skin is clammy. Cold. You let him touch you until the spasms in his joints cease.

"Sorry, love," he'll say.

You always shake your head. "Nothing to be sorry about, dear." Dear. Dear because it's soft and gentle and familial.

You hear his breath stutter in his chest. "Y'right?"

"Are you?"

It takes him a moment to answer. The heat of your skin bleeds into his.

He clears his throat. Then: "getting there. Sit with me for a moment longer, will you?"

You tuck a smile behind the pages of Ulysses. "Always."

A long time. Price is not a soft man on the battlefield. He is a leader, shouldering the lives of every man and woman who crosses paths with him. He might not remember every name at the start, but when the dust has settled, and the loss stack higher and higher. He carries them with him, tucked deep in the pockets of his heart. He's guarded, and distant. A protector, despite his insistence that he isn't. He doesn't want to burden you with his woes, his grievances. He keeps them, a rotten secret, as close to his chest as possible.

But he breaks slowly. The crushing of a geode. It happens when he loses someone he trained with, someone from his youth. It takes a tragedy for him to unfurl, to open up.

It is a little bit like chiselling a dam. The first splinter is a trickle of water. Then a rush. Then a spray. And finally deluge.

It's still held back by crumbling concrete, but he's open with you, now. When he comes home, he likes to lay his head in your lap, and tell you about all the things he couldn't do.

He isn't looking for sympathy—he never is. He just wants you to listen.

P—PAST | how has their past changed them, has it made them better or worse?

His past changed and shaped him in many ways. It’s the catalyst for him becoming the man he is today and instilled a strong sense of justice within him. However, it’s not a happy one, and it also moulded and cultivated that necessary darkness he carries in order to complete the mission given him to—no matter the cost.

Like many things, he takes it to the chin. Brutal, blunt.

It takes a lot to crumble him. He locks his vulnerable emotions in a brassbound box, and keeps it tucked inside a crevasse where it can't be seen, nor touched.

The spillover seeps into his veins where bubbles into anger, an old comfort for him. He's an apoplectic storm on the horizon. Sadness is bottled lightning; a livewire in a stagnant pond.

He uses it to push forward.

Q—QUIET | what are quiet moments like with them?

Price sits in his favourite velvet green armchair, a report spread out in front of him. A glass of scotch is on the table. A cigar pinched between his fingers. The game plays on the television, turned low but still loud enough to keep track of what was happening. Everton was losing. He huffs when he sees it, and mutters something about messaging Simon later to really rub it in.

You read, mark papers, play on your phone.

No words need to be uttered. The atmosphere is rich with tranquillity.

It's the cosiness of a warm home in the middle of winter. A hot cup of tea within reach, made perfectly and still billowing with steam. It's pressing your fingers to the pages of a well-loved book, and falling in the margins of a story you never grow tired of.

It is simplicity in its purest form.

His hand stretches over the end table, palm facing up. Your fingers slip in the gaps. It's not a perfect fit, but his worn, rough hands are the closest to home you've ever felt.

R—RAINY DAY | what are they like in the rain?

He gets a touch morose in the rain. A shade quieter, distant. Lost in thoughts of a time you're not privy to, a world when he was a boy on the verge of becoming a man. A man following in a path carved out of blood and grit. Soot and ash. Battles play in the recesses of his eyes; sapphire artillery smoke, gunpowder in hues of blue.

You wrap your arms around his middle, pressing your chest to his warm back, and listen, in silence, to the rain pelting the window until he's ready to come back to you.

Other times, he basks in the nostalgia of his childhood. Wet pavement, thick smog and petrichor. Says it reminds him of Hereford.

He got shot, he tells you, off-handedly, when he was a grunt in the mountains of Bulgaria, and ever since his leg acts up when it rains.

Swats at you when you tell him that's just old age.

S—SADNESS | how do they deal with sadness?

It takes a lot to crumble him. He locks his vulnerable emotions in a brassbound box, and keeps it tucked inside a crevasse where it can't be seen, nor touched.

The spillover seeps into his veins where bubbles into anger, an old comfort for him. He's an apoplectic storm on the horizon.

(Sadness is bottled lightning; a livewire in a stagnant pond.

He uses it to push forward.)

T—TIME | how long did it take you to get together?

Years. He's known about his attraction to you much earlier, and—of course—your attraction to him for just as long, but he’s a slow-burn. The equivalent of lighting a cigar and leaving it to smoulder on its own. He won’t act on his feelings until all the variables have been weighed, and measured; until he knows, unequivocally, what he wants from this.

And even then—he still holds out.

Pursuing this man isn’t easy. He won’t make it so. He’ll linger in the equinox of pushing you away and keeping you close; know he shouldn’t but he yearns.

U—UNMOVABLE | what opinion will never change, no matter what goes against them?

Sometimes, he has to do things that are considered questionable or morally dubious. He has to get blood on his hands; to him, this is just another facet of eventual peace. He doesn't regret any of his actions—can't, really, or he'll crumble under the weight of his guilt.

V— VICIOUS | what makes them vicious, do they try to hide it or overcome it?

Injustice makes him seethe—a lingering byproduct of his past, his childhood, when he was too weak, too brittle, too young, to do anything to help anyone. Seeing it now makes him brim with fury.

Betrayal, too. He's quick to anger, especially when the lives of his men, innocent people, and those he cares about are being threatened or stifled by politics and political gain. He has little patience for the process, and prefers to operate under his own moral compass.

He uses his viciousness on the battlefield to his advantage. He does not try to hide or overcome it.

At home, he tries to keep it locked away. He isn't a bully but his anger makes him quite cross a lot of the time. Irritated.

He's biting. Condescending. A gruff cut of a man with not just a chip on his shoulder, but a gorge. He fills the gap with duty and obligations, but it surprises you at just how surly he is sometimes. Snide comments, the Looks. It stacks up.

He isn't cruel, and outside of tense situations with enemies, it's quite funny. His biting sarcasm is toned down with a gruff sincerity.

When out on a date, or grocery shopping, expect to hear something mean slip from his lips if the person in front of you is walking too slow, or there are no more shopping carts.

It's often easier to hide your smile behind your hand, and give a weak apology on his behalf.

(But he's very typical of the English—they could serve him raw chicken on a plate, and he wouldn't say a word to the waitstaff until they came around again, finally noticing the squawking bird. He'd glance at his plate, and mutter: "a few more minutes, I reckon.")

W—WARRIOR | how do they feel about you fighting? would they fight for you, beside you, etc?

Price would be your biggest ally and your biggest opponent.

If it's your choice, then he would accept it. He understands the fire, the want to protect, to save. But if you didn't measure up, he would tell you. If you couldn't make it through the tough training regime, he'd be blunt and honest.

He would fight the world for you, and himself as well. He fights for you, really, every day.

He wants to fight beside you—to be there to offer that extra inch of protection, to be the stopgap between life or death, but he also knows you can't be a distraction. You can't be someone he worries about when he has others to bring home.

X—XTRA | a random headcanon for them

He doesn't like the silence. Doesn't like being alone with his thoughts for too long. They creep up on him in stagnancy.

Y—YEARN | how do they deal with yearning?

He compartmentalises it. Pushes it aside. It itches under his skin, but he's long since learned not to scratch at phantom wants.

When it becomes unbearable, he allows himself a small moment to simply gaze at something that reminds him of you. Abstract concepts that will never lead back to you—a family passing by, a weeping willow, lilacs in bloom, the bright moon in the inky black aether—but each one holds a special meaning to him, and makes him feel closer to you than ever before.

(Sometimes, he might crack. Might call you once, and only once, just to hear your voice. A random number a world away. You never answer, but he doesn't want you to. He knows he'll never be able to hang up if you did. He listens to your voicemail, saccharine and soft, and then he turns his phone off before the beep.)

Z—ZEN | what makes them calm?

—I absolutely want to stress that these are just my own personal thoughts and headcanons on Price. If you don't agree, that's perfectly fine! character interpretations are entirely subjective, and what I infer from a character will differ from people's perspectives. 🖤

You. Your head on his chest. Your hands on his skin. The weight of you pressing into his marrow.

And a clean cigar. A neat scotch. Comforts, vices. It's all the same to him.

#captain john price #this too so long #ugHHHHH #john price #captain john price x reader #john price x you #john price x reader #cod price #john price cod #captain price #captain john price x you #captain john price headcanons

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dream0fschism · 1 year

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can i pls have HCs of being FWB with Price. how does it start, where do u do it, how often, would anyone catch feelings...

thx bestie as always luf u

yes .

John is very strict and by-the-book when it comes to work, so it would take a long time for him to act on any of his initial thoughts about you.

It would most likely be right after you've all just gotten back from an assignment. With everyone retiring to their rooms as soon as they stepped foot into the barracks, you'd find yourself lucky enough to somehow be the only ones left in the hall.

Your first intimate moment would most likely be after you speak to him about your concerns, maybe you're worried about something you did. He's lovely to you, and it's weird because you've always noticed that he seems to treat you differently compared to his other underlings.

He'd say. "Don't be ridiculous. But you can always talk to me about that stuff, yeah? Anything's bothering you, let me know."

And he'd be a little too close to you as he said that. So close that you wouldn't be able to resist relaxing your posture, subconsciously leaning into his presence as you murmur your gratitude.

When you look up to meet his gaze, his face would be mere inches away from yours as he seemed to wait for his opportunity to press closer and connect your lips.

He'd pull apart from you so fast and apologetic. "I have no fucking clue why I did that. That's... so unbelievably wrong of me. I'm sorry."

Though completely bewildered, you'd be flattered, pleased with his move. Giving him a meek smile, you'd say. "Nothing to be sorry for."

"My room's the furthest from everyone else."

And John would cave, following you to your room only when he was one hundred percent sure that nobody else was around to witness it.

The first time he fucks you, he's careful and slow. He wants to study what you respond the most to, what feels the best for you as he's always been selfless in the bedroom. He finds pleasure in knowing he's pleasuring you.

Every time you had the chance, you'd be fucking each other. Which wasn't as much as you'd both hoped it would be. John would always be too paranoid to take risks, so it would always have to be when he's completely sure nobody is around.

But he'd risk it once or twice, sometimes he liked the thrill of fucking you in one of the utility closets as people paced past, just outside the door.

You'd be the one who catches feelings first, utterly infatuated with every fibre of his being.

You'd forget you were a recruit sometimes, unable to look at him with anything other than an affectionate stare each time he debriefed you and the squad, held a meeting or even just spoke to you anytime you were on duty.

John would catch feelings, too. But he'd be too professional to ever let it show. Perhaps you would never become more than just friends because of that.

#captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price x you #john price headcanons #captain john price headcanons #john price smut #captain john price smut #price mw2 #mw2 #mw2 fanfiction #mw2 smut

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onestopfanficshop · 8 months

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if we’re taking about the cod boys being dads…can i just slip in how price would be the type of dad that would eat his daughter’s girl scouts cookies when he’s really supposed to be helping her sell them???

🧔🏻‍♂️: (on his second box of thin mints)

👧🏽: daddy, you’re not supposed to be eating them! we have to sell these!

he eventually writes a check out covering the cost of the ones he ate.

no because anon you're so unbelievably correct. the worst part is he thinks he's being so slick about it and that he can can control himself when in reality he can't! he opens yet another box of adventurefuls after he just polished off some thin mints, swears he's "only having a couple", and then boom they're all gone within the span of half an hour. your daughter is looking at you helplessly like "mum what on earth why did you marry this man" and all you can do is shake your head in disbelief and disappointment 💀. but he is very dedicated to helping her sell all her boxes (when he's not scarfing them down of course). he went out and bought a whole pop-up canopy for her to set up under and he's standing out there with his classic dad aviators (you know the ones), arms crossed in a black fitted tee as he handles all the digital payments, grumbling under his breath about how no one carries cash anymore. he's lost count of the amount of business cards he's handed out; the grocery store cashier, the mailman, his barber, all of his neighbors, and of course, the 141 boys. yes, even mr. simon "i don't eat sweets" riley, whom your daughter thinks is hilarious to refer to as the "uncle with the casper mask". simon, however, does not find this amusing. needless to say, she passes her sales goal with ease. obviously, because prices never lose!

#like just imagine this man in his bucket hat with his sunglasses lugging along a red wagon filled the brim with boxes of cookies #and don't even get me started on the amount of girl scout moms that would be drooling over this man #captain john price #john price x reader #john price headcanons #captain john price headcanons #onestopfanficshop asks

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itsscromp · 2 months

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Hi, I'm back with another request! I can pls ask for Alex/Price taking care of or being around kids? Babysitting their niece and nephews maybe. Thanks, and no pressure!

What captain John Price and Alex Keller are like when around kids

Absolutely I can do this for you :D

Captain john price

While Price may not be able to have kids (my personal headcanon) if the other task force members do have one of their own, My god will the baby fever in him will run high.

The others would call him Grandpa when they see him playing with them. (Also my personal headcanon)

Any babysitting duties, he's immediately onto it.

He will not hesitate to spend hundreds of dollars on clothes and toys for the little ones.

He would be the most silliest Grandpa possible.

Tickle attacks, Blowing raspberries on their tiny bellies, Bonus points cause his beard would tickle as well.

The said baby would always shriek in happiness when they see they're Grandpa.

Never a dull moment with Grandpa price around.

Alex keller

Now for Alex, I would see him as the cool uncle !!

Kids would be bouncing their little feet around him as soon as he walks through the door.

Telling them kick-ass stories about his adventures.

He would most most definitely be the one to teach them swear words, Whoops.

Whenever he looks after kids for whatever reason, He always goes out of his way to make sure they stay entertained.

He would be a big football player, always helping them learn how to play and toss the ball.

He would purposely lose just so he could see the big smiles on their faces.

When downtime kicks in... PILLOW FORTS !!!!

Grabbing all the blankets from around the house, He helps them set up the fort. filled with snacks and games.

Snuggle time would be the most important one for him, seeing them all cuddled up to him safe and sound.

He'll never get tired of being an uncle.

#Captain john price #john price #john price headcanons #captain john price headcanons #alex keller #alex keller headcanons #call of duty #call of duty imagine #call of duty headcanons

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snootlestheangel · 6 months

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141 Headcanons

Combining two of my hyper-fixations: horses and the COD boys

So I present to y'all, The 141 as Horse Breeds (this has been rotting away at my brain for weeks now)

Captain John Price

His was kinda hard but only cause there's not really a breed that suits his personality that also has the super cool beards/suits his physical appearance.

So for him, I went with Suffolk Punch Horse; a British breed of draft horse that is known for being excellent workers because they're determined, intelligent, gentle, and with a strong work ethic.

Look at this regal boy! Tell me this isn't our proud Captain Price standing at attention while watching his over his boys!

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley

He's a Percheron!! Calm, collected horses that can keep their cool in crazy situations; tough, hard-working horses that aren't adverse to interaction. Simon would, of course, be so traumatized by years of abuse, so he's a bit more skittish than his breed usually is, and there's so many visible scars across his coat and some patches of his mane don't quite grow in right.

Tell me this isn't Ghost just as a horse

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish

We all know he'd be a Fjord horse. They're sturdy, tough little horses. Literally known for their "mohawk" styles of mane, their owners literally take pride in putting cool designs into their manes because of the way it stands up straight. They're intelligent and easy-going horses, and can thrive off attention. Hard-working, strong yet small horses but are still so friendly

Like, I can't explain it any further. Soap is Fjord that is hilariously in love with the big, handsome Percheron

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Hanoverian. Widely considered one of the more intelligent horse breeds. They're calm, attentive, eager to learn. Like, eager to learn is literally Gaz, I'm sorry. They're one of the most level-headed breeds, and are great for beginner riders and inexperienced/younger ones because of how friendly, calm, and gentle they are. Super athletic horses too, and often compete in a variety of things.

Literally Gaz. Literally. Just, as a horse.

#141 headcanons #simon ghost riley headcanons #captain john price headcanons #john soap mactavish headcanons #kyle gaz garrick headcanons #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #soapghost #call of duty #the 141 but them horses

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brainrotbrainrotbrainrot · 7 months

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So I know this isn’t original and going to be badly written out but I can’t stop thinking of Price dating a civilian!reader and he’s just low-key about it. It’s not that you’re a secret, it’s just that no one ever really asks and he’s not the type to tell.

You’ve been together years, you met somewhere out in a pub, or even through mutual friends. Maybe on a night out when he was younger and out with the boys. Maybe you knew each other during school and reconnected a few years after. You’ve built a life together and you’re both so content and happy. You moulded together so perfectly, you’re each other’s right arm.

One day Soap and Price are talking about something random and Price casually drops “Oh yeah my partner likes that too” and Soap’s eyes are about to bug out of his face when he realised what Price just said and absolutely interrogates him about his other half and whines about why he didn’t know about you. And Price’s answer is a simple shrug of his shoulders and “You never asked.”

Gaz is in the same boat as Soap, but he admits he realised he never asked, it never crossed his mind to ask.

Laswell of course knows, you know her wife too. You have a great little relationship with them.

The only Taskforce 141 member who always knew about you otherwise? Ghost. Ghost asked or rather listened, hearing Price mention you before. He remembered and brought it up in such a casual way to not pry into Price’s personal life but Price shared about you and since, you and Simon have a good relationship with each other. He definitely texts you a lot.

#idk what these are #john price headcanons #captain John price #captain john price headcanons #captain price hc #cod mw2 #cod hc #john price x reader

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katzenmas · 3 months

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something something creepy old man! Price who works as a mechanic at your local garage.

he completely rips you off and charges an insane amount for a standard oil change, purposefully breaks something so you have to continue coming to his garage.

something something,, he asks for your help and you oblige and it ends with him bending you over the hood of your car and thanking you for all the patronage you give his garage.

he starts out slow, doesnt want to scare a pretty thing like you off but you're just so dumb!! he tells you he absolutely needs you to take off your pants or the repairs won't work and you oblige!! because he's an old nice man, why would he lie?

at some point he stands behind you, crowding you towards the hood of your car, his knee pushing your thighs apart and making you grind your panty-clad cunt against his clothed knee.

every man has his limit, Price snaps and bends you over when you let out a small whimper 'more, please, please mister Price need m're'. he is gone. his hands are ripping at your panties sliding into you with no prep, its been a while since he had a young doll like you speared on his cock.

he has surprising stamina for a man his age, he makes you cream three times around his meaty cock and then he's holding your hip in one hand, the other splayed around your stomach, cumming so deep inside you, wanting to make sure it stays in.

#john price #captain john price #price smut #john price smut #cod headcanons #cod smut #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #dubcon #cod mw3 #price headcanons #captain john price headcanons

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macravishedbymactavish · 1 year

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First "I love you" (TF141 x GN!Reader Headcanons)

Since I literally can't focus on writing the series I have started, have some headcanons instead

TW: Swearing, typical COD violence and themes (mild spoilers in Price's bit), some clichè themes

Blog HQ

Ghost

Saying I love you...

You told him the first time he returned to your shared home following deployment

Sure the two of you had been together for a fair while before this, but its the first time you were alone in your shared space. It was the first time you really felt how empty home was without him.

You didn't want to distract him prior to leaving for the mission, so you whispered those 3 little words to him mid-kiss when he was home with you.

Heart full, and the breath you didn't realize you were holding all this time released. He was back in your arms. Your home was back with you.

Hearing I love you...

As with the other headcanons I write, I'm a firm believer that Simon isn't as emotionally unavailable or closed off due to past trauma as much as so much time in solitude. The last meaningful connection he had ended not the greatest, so he wasn't keen on seeking this out. It's been a while, our man is pretty uneducated in the modern romance department.

With his "lack of experience due to time alone" he is honestly a bit overwhelmed and terrified of this. He loves you, all of his heart. He loves you with the same amount of his heart as he loved them.

Sure, it's a different love altogether (familial vs romantic), but the feelings are overwhelming no less.

He clearly doesn't say it back right away (even though God he wants to). He wants to make sure he means it and portrays just how much he means it before diving right in. He wants it to be as close to perfect for you as possible.

Surprisingly, the perfect moment comes when you're falling asleep one night. You're snuggled into his chest, warm, content. Mumble a soft I love you, Simon.

His response comes naturally, a soft I love you too whispered into the darkness. Then everything just seemed to fall into place.

That night was the best sleep either of you ever had.

Gaz

Saying I love you...

I feel like with Kyle it would happen at the exact same time. Like....literally the same time. So imma just:

Saying I love you/Hearing I love you...

It would definitely come when the two of you are most comfortable around one another. Probably during a lazy night at home.

Cooking together perhaps? Little bit of teamwork, mixed with teasing comments and stolen kisses as you manuever around one another.

Or maybe playing video games (cozy couch co-op or fiercely competitive. No inbetween. Take your pick).

Flip side of the coin: you're getting wound down from a night out. Stripping out of the stupid fancy clothes you decided were a good idea to wear out. Spoiler: it wasn't a good idea. Next time let's do something more casual.

No matter what the situation is, you're doing it together and your hearts couldn't be fuller. Happily in the apartment you two share, just enjoying one another.

"I could live like this forever without complaint" you'd start, smiling over at him (even if he beat your ass at whatever game you were playing with no mercy)

"Didn't know I was dating an immortal" he'd tease back. "Share your secrets with me"

"No!"

"Why not????"

"I simply cannot share my secrets with a doof like you"

Your play argument ending in him trying to tickle you, or play wrestle you, or just anything that results in the two of you (INNOCENTLY) tangled up together. Like super clichè looking into the others eyes as you lay/sit there. Lost in the moment and realizing it's no longer "I like like you" but rather:

"I love you"

Said, by the two of you, at the exact same time.

Queue laughter, shared kisses and full hearts.

Soap

Saying I love you...

My mind automatically went to lost on a road trip trope. Like you two would plan out an entire day, wanting to visit the spot you two would hang out at all the time pre-relationship.

Except you're both too distracted by conversation and jamming to whatever playlist you had in the background to realize: your turn is well into the rear view.

By the time he realizes he's now driving on roads he doesn't recognize, it's too late. You're pretty far out of the way, and the clouds in the sky don't look super promising.

"T'hell with it! We have our lunch here" he'd propose, finding a small hill in the distance. "Our new spot™️"

So that'd exactly what you do. An improvised little lunch, in your new trademarked spot.

It was after lunch, when you both were full and ready for a food coma. You don't know what overtook you to say it. You didn't even realize you were saying it until his eyes dialted and a small smirk crossed his lips.

"You love me, aye?"

Hearing I love you...

He would have no hesitation saying it back, except for you playfully smacking him while yelling his name.

He'd be so in shock that someone as lovely as you would feel that way toward someone like him.

You!! Loving him!!

The next time he'd try to say it back, it would be interrupted by thunder in the distance, and the urgency to start packing up your things and getting home before too long.

It was when you make the journey from the vehicle to the house through the pouring rain when he decided now was the time. Watching you laugh, try and fail to keep yourself dry that it came out.

"I love you too"

"That's nice. But it's raining fucking hard so can we go inside and be cute after?"

You two were 100% cute inside after that. Lots of "I love yous" shared back and forth that night.

Price

Saying I love you...

Hear me out though, what if it were you captured with Kate (in that one mission, the one that solidified that Gaz shouldn't be in aircrafts anymore).

No matter how you feel in that moment (terrified, oddly calm, pissed to high hell) one thought would be in the front of your mind:

You've never said I love you.

Sure, you've told him the various things that you love about him. But never told him straight out that you love him in his entirety.

So as you sit, guns pointed at you. Ready to cause harm and death if needed. You find yourself reflecting on your relationship.

The ups, the downs, the victories and hardships. The way that you used to find his overbearing nature to be insufferable at times...you're now viewing it in a new light.

Maybe that's just because you're standing on death's doorstep wondering if he's going to answer today.

The crash, the chaos. You truly wonder if it's the end. Until you're pulled away from eternities grasp and brought back to reality. Face to face with your boyfriend who is clearly fighting back his own emotions. Still convincing himself that you're alive.

"I love you, John" comes out so naturally as you launch yourself at him. Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of his gear pressing into you. He was here, he had you.

Hearing I love you...

John would 110% be beside himself. Trying to figure out how he let this happen, concerned that he won't get to you in time, letting his mind run wild with worse case scenarios.

Whether you work in the military or not -- you were never supposed to be in this type of situation.

Getting the call that you were MIA and now a POW caused his heart to stop. To grow a shade colder as he reminded himself he needs to breathe.

Won't do you a whole lot of good if he's passed out.

While he wants to call the shots and lead the charge to get you back safe, he does step back and let his teammates take point. Considering it's a glaring conflict of interest for him to be there, captain or not.

The entire time they're fighting to get to you, all he can think of is how this is inadvertently his fault. Running through everything to figure out where he went wrong. Where did he slack off? What could he have done differently?

He also vowed in this moment to keep you safe for the rest of your lives. Even if you hated him, if you never wanted to see him again because of this. He would never, ever anything like this happen to you again.

When they finally reach the front of the convoy, he's ready to pass out or punch someone out if they don't move out of his way. Much like a mama bear and her cub, you don't get between John and his love in this moment.

His team makes quick work of the enemies, as he approaches one of the doors. Heart hammering inside his chest, hands shaking slightly as tears burn the back of his eyes. Pleading to anyone listening that you be alive.

When you barreled into him and whispered those words to him he could've fallen over. His legs almost not supporting him. You were alive, you love him. You were alive. You love him. He repeated this over in his head as he held you close.

Whispering the words back, cursing himself for how his voice broke halfway through.

You were alive. You love him.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @v1naco @bowtruckleninja

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lazybutsmexy · 1 year

Text

Task Force 141 + affectionate reader Pt.2

Pt. 1 Pt. 3

Warnings: ANGST, character death, blood/injuries, cursing

A/N: This is for my good girl @gogh-with-the-flow because she asked very nicely 🫶♥️

Under the cut for length!

It's hard to breathe, each inhale burns your insides. Blood is flowing out freely from the wound, and you can feel it corroding your insides as well.

Your hand trembles over the wound, unable to hold a steady pressure. You can't even inform your status on the radio as your tongue grows numb and the taste of iron invades all your senses, and a brief thought flashes in your mind - you were always meant to die alone, with no one noticing. With no one caring.

You can hear Price calling for you, begging you to inform your status and location. You push yourself to raise your free hand, spitting out the blood mixed with saliva, a last effort to communicate. They could still come and save you, perhaps one of them was just outside, with a med kit. Maybe you could be stabilized and evacuated.

Wishful thinking, but hope is the last thing one should ever lose, right?

Your finger hovers over the button of your radio when you raise your sight. A shadow approaches you, the barrel of an m5 staring down at you.

All hope is lost.

You press the button.

"...love you, goodbye."

They all immediately knew the moments they heard you on the radio, they had lost you forever

Your last words weighed heavily on them

They were the same words you'd shout at them whenever they left

And now it was you who left them

Riding the helicopter back to base became a torture, knowing that you were in one of the few body bags they managed to retrieve

No one could say a word, really

Price limited himself to talking to the pilots

He had lost so many subordinates before, and he had been hesitant to accept your affection because of this

But you had been relentless, and wormed your way into their hearts without caring about the consequences

The consequences for them, at least

The moment he arrived at his office and saw your note taped on that one framed photo of the team, he realized he wouldn't be able to get any work done

He poured himself a drink in your honor, pretending the salty taste was the cheap bourbon's fault and not his tears streaming down his face.

Gaz stared at a spot in the floor of the helicopter, losing himself in his thoughts

Every now and then, his eyes would shift to the bag, before quickly shifting them away and blink back the tears

He was quieter than usual that night, barely limiting himself to answer if anyone talked to him first

When he arrived to his barrack, he took the last note you had given him, still tucked away into one of his holsters

He was going to put in in the drawer with the others, but didn't find it in himself to shut it

Instead, he took all the notes you had given him and put them under his pillow

Maybe that way he would dream about your loving words to him once again

Soap glared down at his own hands the entire trip

Out of everyone else, he had been the one who was the closest to your location

He had been the one to shoot down your killer, before he had even known he was the one

Had he known, he would have made it last longer

Probably would've made him eat a grenade and transform him into a fucking flesh puzzle

Make it hard for anyone to gather his fucking pieces

(He did plant explosives under his corpse before they left, whoever moved him would blow up in pieces too)

As soon as they arrived at base, he headed straight to the training rooms

He unloaded all his frustration on the punching bag until the skin of his knuckles broke and blood smeared the equipment and dripped on the floor

After almost two hours, he finally stopped

The floor was splattered with a mixture of blood, sweat, and angry tears

He cleaned it in silence, and bandaged his hands before heading to his barrack

As he laid down in bed, he shifted on one side and the other, unsure of whether he wanted to see your lovely notes on the wall, or not.

Ghost couldn't get his eyes away from Gaz and Soap during the trip.

He could hear your voice echo in his head as you said your last good-byes

What would you say at a moment like this?

He was never good at offering comfort, but as their superior, he supposed he should say something

Then it dawned on him

He was also your superior

When was the last time he openly showed any gratitude towards you?

You had never been subtle when showing affection, you simply adapted yourself to whoever was your target

You never once made him feel uncomfortable

Instead, you made him feel loved, worthy of having someone waiting for him

Although he had tried to push you away many times in the beginning, he ended up finding himself eager to come back alive

Because you were waiting for him - for all of them

Had it always been your plan? To make them feel the need to come back?

As he sat down at his desk that night, all your notes displayed on the hardwood table, he couldn't help but think

Who would he try his best to come back for, now that you were gone?

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