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bambimeadows · 6 months

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Working on a sequel where they come home btw💕

MW men leaving you to go away on a mission

A/n: my first time writing for modern warfare in general, I hope you like it 😔 Nervous

Consists of Gaz, Graves, Price, soap, ghost, alejandro and Rudy

Mostly pure fluff, but angst for Ghost and Graves, because in my mind they’d be problematic boyfriends/husbands

Warning: swearing, suggestive themes but no explicit smut, gender neutral reader (if there are errors that indicate other wise I apologise but I tried my best to make reader as ambiguous as possible) I haven’t proof read as best I could, if I fixate on making it perfect I will never post the silly little thing.

Requests are welcome 🍷 I’m open to writing pretty much anything (within reason👻)

🇬🇧 Kyle “Gaz” Garrick 🇬🇧 (my favourite)

It’s 4am, but Kyle is already freshly showered and suited up to go on his next mission.

This is an all too familiar Deja vu moment for you, the sliver of light coming from the bathroom into your bedroom, the pungent citrusy aroma of his shower gel and aftershave. You pretend to be asleep, all the while your heart sinks further and further down your chest until it’s feels like it lies in the pit of your stomach.

You like to watch him discretely, peeking out from behind the duvet to observe him as he bustles around quickly, he’s expertly quiet, almost elegant in his movements, tucking things into his bag while he sips his coffee. You adored the way he looked when he thought no one was watching, when he was safe, a peaceful, docile look on his beautiful face, the expressions he pulled as he processed his thoughts with himself.

He hums a tune very quietly, something vapid and silly from the radio. He bends down to scratch behind the ears of your cat who had come to brush round his legs. “Look after them for me, mate.”

How you love the bones of him

You’ve always ask him to wake you up so you can see him off before he leaves, he never does. Somehow he can be up at a specific time without an alarm, you’re not quite sure how he does, and the success rate is too high for it to be a fluke. His logic for not waking you up is that it doesn’t matter either way, you’re better off with your rest and he’ll be back in no time, no tearful goodbyes we’re needed. Of course, the night before he leaves, the feeling in your gut and the rampant racing of your thoughts wouldn’t allow you the privilege of sleeping in anyway.

You keep your eyes shut lightly, steady and slow your breathing to mimic sleep.

As you keep your eyes closed you feel his presence near you, hear the rustle of his clothes and gear as he bends down and rubs his thumb across your cheek in impossibly feathery motions. You can picture his expression like it always is in these moments, his chocolatey eyes turning soft and hazy, his mouth resting in a tiny little pout of endearment, like his heart had just melted to goo his chest.

“You still asleep babe?” He mutters.

He waits for a few counts, and then once satisfied you’re still allegedly in your slumber he places a kiss to your forehead. “Back soon, promise. I love you,” comes the impossibly gentle whisper. He strokes your face a few more times, both hands brushing over your cheeks and forehead. It becomes hard to keep up the facade but you hold steady until he walks away.

It makes you crumble, the notion that he thought you were asleep yet still performed such a gesture, he wasn’t trying to comfort you, he was just trying to enjoy you for himself before he left.

It’s as your hear him open the front door that you call to him, as best you can, that you love him too.

He appears back in the doorway of your bedroom in an instant, with a ghost of an earnest grin gracing his face. You hold each others gaze for a moment before he’s making his way back over to you, grabbing your face and kissing you on the lips, he envelopes you in his arms in a firm, lingering embrace.

“Do you really have to go?” You mumble sleepily into his shoulder.

He hummed something incoherent, rubbing his hands up your sleeping shirt, to feel the skin of your back.

“Can’t you call in sick?”

He chuckles, its always such a sweet, rich sound, it’s the vocal equivalent to honey and cinnamon, it makes you hold him tighter. “I don’t think it works like that, babe.”

“What if you had like… a broken leg?”

“That’s a good point actually,” he says, releasing you and standing up again, feigning sincerity in pondering the idea. “Okay. Come on, come push me down the stairs.”

You giggle at him, spurned on by his playful grin. “Then you’d just be laid in hospital for weeks.”

“Yeah,” he leaned down to kiss you again briefly. “But we’d be together wouldn’t we?”

You nod, and before you know it, you feel a tear start to trickle down your face. Before you can wipe it away his hand is on your face, and he’s still smiling, just more fervently, he pours all his heart into his special, profound and reassuring little smiles, just for you.

“It’s okay, I promise it is. It will fly by. I won’t be gone too long this time. And it’s not too dangerous either.”

You nod, you share another kiss with him and he presses his forehead to yours for a moment, shutting his eyes before sighing and leaving you with a few /I love you/s

Just as you prepare to be alone, he appears again, the bright grin back on his face, pointing a finger at you. “And don’t watch the new season of Bridgeton while I’m gone, okay? Strictly off limits. I mean it. If I have to wait, so do you. We’re gonna watch it together.”

You throw your head back and laugh at him, pure joy from your stomach, and you shake your head quickly.

“I’m gonna watch it right now.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, you wouldn’t do that to me. I’ll just delete the account, no problem.”

He makes his way back down the hall.

“Show a bit of solidarity, yeah?” He calls as he’s making his way down the stairs. “Love you babe!”

And then he’s gone, and although you do shed a few tears, you can’t help but smile as you do.

🇺🇸 Phillip Graves 🇺🇸

You find that on the mornings Graves is due away on a mission, he can be almost cold - and he is not a cold partner or even person in general most of the time. You personally couldn’t discern why he became brusque and distant, keeping you at arms length, but you knew he was a busy man, too much on his mind perhaps.

You tried your best to be accommodating to him, staying out of his way, putting on a brave face, acting as if he was just popping to the office for a few hours, even making him a plate of his standard bacon and eggs, with his creamy sugary coffee.

“‘Preciate it,” he sighed, he placed a piece of bacon in his mouth as he flipped through some paperwork. “Shouldn’t be gone too long this time, alright?”

You didn’t answer, just continue scrubbing the pan of it’s grease.

“You hear me, darlin’?”

“I hear you,” you respond, turning around and you can feel your face is like stone, you’re still scrubbing. “Happy to hear it.”

He picks up his coffee mug and takes a sip, his eyes landing on you as you’re drying off a spatula. “Don’t look like that. Wipe that pout off your face.”

You clang the cooking utensil back where it belongs. “…Whatever Phill, I’m going back to bed.”

He gave you his signature /look/, it was something only akin to how a father gave a warning signal to his child, pointed, widened eyes, a terse little mouth. “That’s how you’re gonna see me off? What if I don’t come back?”

You feel your face crumple and swallow the harsh, stinging lump in your throat. “You always come back. You tell me you’re not in any real danger.”

“Right,” he retorts and clanks his mug down firmly. “I’ll hurry up and go then. Seems as if you’re looking forward to it.”

You watch him, cross-armed, as he begins to pick up his bags, “See you soon,” he calls over his shoulder and then the door slams shut.

You curse under your breath as you cross the living room to open the front door and walk out onto your driveway, arms still crossed to keep your robe wrapped around your body, the morning chill rippling the fabric against your skin.

He sees you and squints his eyes in puzzlement, but you merely open the passenger door and slip in the car next to him.

“Y/n,” he starts, raising an eyebrow, but you’re already lurched over with your arms draped around his neck, your face finding the toasty, musk scented crook of his neck. It only takes him a few moments to return the gesture and then some, scooping you across into his lap.

“Aw, come on baby, please don’t get like this on me,” he mumbles, a tinge of anguish to his tone as he rubs your back. “It’s like you said, I always come back.”

You pull away, climbing back in the passenger seat. “Everytime you have to leave, you act like you don’t even like me.”

He scoffed and shook his head quickly, turning away from you. “Come on, y/n, what are we? Teenagers? I’m just busy getting ready.”

You continue to glare holes into the side of his skull before he sighs, visibly deflating, his shoulder sinking down further, his back finally coming loose. “Alright, alright. Truth is…”

You wait patiently for him to wrap his tongue around whatever it is he needs to say, eventually he turns to you, placing a hand on your thigh. “… I just feel guilty leaving you. And getting all sentimental with ya in these times, well it just makes me feel worse. So I try my best not to. Selfish I know.”

He levels you with a pained look, eyebrows furrowed. “Sorry darlin.”

“Why do you feel guilty?”

“You being alone so much, having to wait around for me. Maybe if you had a man with a normal job-“

“I don’t want to hear any of that,” you cut in. “I choose you. And I know being with you comes with sacrifice, but I accept it all. You’re worth it.”

He lets out a joyless breathy chuckle, turning his gaze to his lap. “Am I though? Are you sure?”

You nod enthusiastically. “You’re the most amazing and beautiful man I’ve ever met, and will ever meet.”

“And I feel the same about you, but you give me the world,” he tells you. “And I… don’t do the same for you.”

“You do everything for me. Literally everything. Give me so much.”

He places his hands on the steering, as if he’s bracing himself.

“But I have to leave you all the time. And I don’t know, to me that makes everything I do for you seem like… nothing. I know you get lonely. Sometimes I worry that you’ll…”

He swallows and shakes his head to himself, “…never mind.”

You take a moment to process the revelation, your cheeks burn at the notion he could suspect you of cheating, but what was more striking was that everything you hadn’t been previously sure of made sense right then and there, like puzzle piece clicking into place to complete the whole grand picture. “You’re talking bullshit. But I wish you had told me how you felt sooner. And I would never, for the record, and never have.“

He took your hand in his, staring into your eyes with almost a desperation, it was spell-bounding to see him fold for you, to see his sapphire blue puppy eyes grow round, sad, misty, longing. “I’m a good boyfriend to you the rest of the time though, right?”

He’s genuinely asking, his breath is almost hitched in his throat. In this moment you see it, and you can’t see how you didn’t see it before, the apprehension, the nerves, the uncertainty. It made you want to take him by the hand, lead him back inside and get him back into bed where you could hold each other and you could whisper praise and words of adoration into his ear. You had a suspicion he was still only being partially transparent.

You didn’t want to believe he was scared, if he was scared, it made way for so much indecision and suspense.

You knew you’d have to start thinking of him as a mere mortal, and not the pristine, perfect machine he tried to portray himself as, it had been very indulgent and almost lazy, complacent even, to adopt that view of him, even if he had pushed it onto you. “You’re good to me all of the time,” you conclude.

You give him a final kiss, lay a hand on his arm before you leave the car.

“I’ll see you soon baby,” he murmurs.

You nod quickly, but as you turn your back you’re choking back your tears.

💀Simon “Ghost” Riley 💀 (oh my god his is so long)

“You awake love?” A huge hand shakes your shoulder firmly.

You mumble something incoherent and emit a small groan, rolling over to your side to see your boyfriend sat on the edge of the bed, his vast figure illuminated by the amber hue of the lamplight.

With that damned mask on no less. With the damned mask on…

“I am now, what’s up?”

He’s bent down to lace up his boots. “Gotta go. Gonna be away for a while.”

“Go where?”

“You know I can’t say.”

You sat up now, too quickly and it made your head swim. You feel the tinge of outrage on your skin, you tried to swallow the gravel in your throat, willing your face to stop heating up by the second. “Ooo,” you bite sarcastically, and sizzling acidic venom is dripping from your tongue, because he’s done it again. “You definitely told me you were going away, didn’t you? Thanks for letting me know in advance.”

“Sorry, it’s a last minute thing.”

“Bollocks is it,” you grumble.

He rises back up and twists his torso to look at you, raising a hand to place on your arm but you shrug it off aggressively.

The skull gazes at you for a moment, his hand recoiling back to his side. “Knew I should have left you asleep,” he concluded. “Knew you were gonna be a dickhead about it. This is why I don’t tell you fuck all.”

You struggle not to see red, you feel the special sort of anger only he can inspire start to creep and curl up your veins, as if you were frosting over. The fury for him was like a chained up beast, becoming more difficult to keep subdued the more he pushed, the more he tested you to see how much you’d let him get away with.

“That’s what you did last time,” you say, levelling him with a hard glare of ice and stone. “And it messed me up.”

You see his shoulders move up and down in what you assume was a tiny scoff. “Don’t say that. You’re exaggerating.”

“Don’t tell me how I felt, or how I feel,” you voice is sharp with defiance, but it seems to bounce off of him, it goes right over his head.

His phone, the burner phone, buzzed. He glanced at it and it was some sort indication to move. He stood up, his gigantic form looming over the bed, over you.

It would be a terrifying sight if you didn’t know what existed beneath that gear, behind that haunting mask.

Just yesterday the two of you had had the best day in a long time. You walked your dog through the woodlands for hours, you watched movies all afternoon and then in the evening he took you to your favourite restaurant, something you knew he despised. He hated public settings, it was as if they made him itch. Walking through the local shopping centre was difficult enough with him, his bad moods never failed to rub off on you and you would both come home mentally and emotionally depleted.

He much preferred dinner at home, he liked to cook, he liked to cook with you, shoulder to shoulder, the radio on or the tv humming away in the background, or he liked to order a Chinese and have you in his lap afterwards as you zoned out in front of the tv or watched him play a video game. It didn’t matter really, he always preferred the two of you alone, but he had pushed the boat out for you yesterday. He had been so unbelievably sweet.In fact he had been profoundly sweet all week…

You feel your emotional chest wound deepen gradually at the realisation. No, he had known, for weeks at best, a couple months at worst. You weren’t stupid. Perhaps he’d be better off with someone stupid, with zero perception, metaphorically blind. You could have been, and you were at first with him. The beautiful warmth that shone through the cracks of the glacial man, just for you, almost euphoric, almost drug like, stifling your senses, your common sense.

To have him soften for you, the way he took care of you, subtly adored you, guided you, soothed you, protected you, saved you from even the most minor discomfort.

You always said you wanted the sweetest man, but self indulgently it was the man who had no patience or time for anyone else in the world except for you that made you feel so… special, you dare say substantial. He had something angelic that was reserved only for you. He despised everyone, had distain for everything, but you… he just revelled in you. It blew your mind to this day.

That flame is always snuffed out by instances like this.

“Why can’t you just tell me when you have to go somewhere, Simon?” You try weakly.

He sighs loudly this time, his sighs and expression of agitation were usually used to silence you, to dismiss you, but this time it seemed genuine, like he’s run out of ideas for you. “Um,” he announces, raising a hand to scratch at the back of his head. “I don’t know, to be honest. Sorry.”

You feel your stomach turn in revolt, it was the worst possible answer. “You’re actually a joke, I hope you know that.”

“Maybe I am,” his voice is still so husky but loud, crystalline, inappropriately so in the silence of the early hours, it plays at your ears, makes them tingle. “Maybe this time apart will do us good.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, you can think about whether this is really the life you want.”

You furrow your brow, shaking your head in despair, you dig your finger nails into the bed, still warmed by his body, the great heat he emitted.

“What?” You lean forward, glaring accusingly, you feel your heart start to race, your lips tremor, your face burn. “You don’t care either way?”

His phone, the one you recognise to be his burner phone, buzzes, he looks at it and you can tell it’s a signal he needs to start moving.

“All I do is hurt you,” he murmurs, bending down to zip up his bag, he swings it over his shoulder.

“So don’t,” you throw your hands up in the air. “All you had to do was mention it. If you didn’t want me to make a big deal out of it I wouldn’t. If you needed space to prepare I would have given it to you.”

The phone buzzes again. “I have to go.”

But you’re climbing off the bed, racing to stand in his way. A bad decision, and you feel a twinge of guilt as soon as you do it.

“Y/n, please.”

“Do you want to be with me?”

“…I do.”

“So why do you do these things?” You can feel the tears dribble down your face now, you hand dashes up to wipe them away.

He’s silent for a moment, the skull stares down at you, contemplating, blinking slowly.

“Do you like seeing me hurt?”

“No.”

“Is this all some big game to you, do you get off on this?”

“No.”

“Are you trying to push me away?”

“I- No. I don’t really want you to go anywhere. I think you’re kind of stupid for staying with me sometimes, but I am grateful.”

You ignore the sting of the latter sentence, opting to focus on his initial statement.

“So why can’t you be honest with me?” You question, crossing your arms over yourself, trying to sooth the anxiety and distress that was settling into your bones. “If you want me to stay?”

He heaves another sigh and mutters a /fucking ‘ell/ under his breath. You don’t let his frustration deter you, or the fact he needs to be out the door. He perches on the arm of the sofa and pulls his mask off, gripping it in his hands, he stares down at it.

You watch his Adonis-esque face, his eyes have dimmed like he’s died inside. A small snag of guilt sets in, you’re aggravating him before a mission, it’s the opposite of what he needs, maybe this is why he doesn’t tell you.

“Do you know what, just go, Simon-“

“I didn’t,” he begins, he hesitates and then sighs, he shakes his head to himself before continuing. “I don’t want you to spend months counting down the days until I leave. I don’t want you to feel…/sad/.”

You pause, taking in the statement, and then place a hand on his arm, the barrier of his gear and heavy clothes making it seem like you were hardly even touching him.

“It’s okay to be a little bit sad sometimes.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “But I just want you to be your normal self.”

“Why?” You retort, automatically, eager to understand, the rare moment of openness driving you feral at the notion to syphon more information.

He places the mask back on and stands up again. “I really have to leave.”

You follow him to the front door, he pretends that you’re not. As he opens it you place a hand around his bicep and he stops, not bothering to turn around. He stands under the roof of the porch, the rain pummels down on to your driveway, you feel the spray and bitter breeze as it splashes down.

“Is it because… you think they might be our last days together?

“Yes,” he snipes back quickly, his irritation running deep through his voice.

You pull him back and he lets you, he even turns around and places his hands on your shoulder, establishing a firm grip, he stares down at you, slipping his eyes onto your as best as he could with the mask on. “Look, I don’t think you could ever really understand what it’s like, what I go out there to do.”

“So just tell me,” you sigh exasperated, “I’m ready to know the truth.”

“I can’t,” he hisses almost desperately, because he’s told you this many times. “I’m not allowed. And I don’t think I’d want to anyway.”

You press your lips together, swallowing hard. “Is it really that dangerous?”

“It is,” he punctuates the confirmation with a slight shake of your shoulders. “It really is. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to be worried. But I can’t stand here and tell you I know for sure that I’ll be back. I wish I could do that for you.”

“You don’t have to apologise for that, Simon.”

The phone buzzes again, it makes you stomach knot into a tight ball. “We can talk about it more, I promise.”

“And if you don’t come back?”

He pauses, he gazes down at you for a few beats before he lifts a hands to his face and peels up his mask, he leans down to press a hard, fire filled, kiss to your mouth. “Just remember that I love you. And only you. You’re all I have. But you…you have so much without me.”

“Not true,” you whisper to him helplessly, the tears can’t be contained any longer, you actually hear one drip to the floor.

He tuts and mumbles again. He steps forward and wraps his arms around you, your head hits his chest. “I know I’m not suppose to go about things this way, I’m so shit at this, y/n. Im still figuring it out, I was never suppose to have you.”

You hum a noise of question into his mountain of a body, asking him to elaborate. “I mean… I was never suppose to get into a relationship. But you just… I grew complacent by letting you into my life.”

He pulled away from you, holding you at arms length. You stay silent, willing him to continue, your eyes almost silently pleading. “But I got so tired of being alone all the time. And then you… I knew I was fucked the day I met you.”

You shut your eyes, your mind briefly fleeting to how you had asked him out, twice, and how hesitant he had been, how cautious he was, before falling into you and attaching himself to you, entwining himself and everything he consisted of with you.

“Now that’s the most you’re getting out of me,” he spoke, pointing his finger at you, his voice back to cold terseness. “I’m making myself cringe ‘ere.”

Despite yourself you manage a tiny smile at him, wiping away another stray tear. “Please come back.”

“I’ll try my best, love,” he speaks, turning around to leave once again. “Just keep yourself busy.”

And then he’s gone, you’re still in shock.

🦌Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra🦌

“Todays the day,” you say, as you sip your coffee. “Came around so quick.”

Rodolfo runs a tender, lingering hand over your shoulder as he takes a seat next to you.

Like many other mornings, the two of you had come out into the small cliff side garden behind your home, to watch the sunrise. You had a vast view of the whole town from up here. Life didn’t seem mundane or real in transient moments like this.

“Yet all the time you’re gone, it always goes by so slow.”

“Enjoy it,” he quips, reclining back in his seat. “When I retire, I’m gonna be under your feet, clinging to you twenty four seven. You’ll be grateful for this time.”

You chuckle with him but shake your head sincerely regardless. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You glance over at him, the gentle morning breeze ruffles his hair. He’s already dressed, ready to go in his jeans and t shirt, not strapped up with his gear yet, while you sit in your robe, the one that he claimed made his head swim.

You smile when he gazes back at you, and you can’t help the butterflies that flap their wings against your ribcage. He was just so beautiful, and more importantly he was well and truly yours. In every sense and aspect. His loyalty and dedication was profound and special, like the rarest gemstone.

“I can’t wait for you to retire actually,” you tell him as he takes your hand in his. “I can’t wait for you to be out of danger. It’s what I look forward to the most.”

His eyes soften for you, softer than they already are at his default. He has gentlest eyes you’ve ever seen, doe like, they’re the clearest indicator of what a humble, empathetic man he is. “I know, my love. I have no intention of doing this for longer than I have to.”

“Promise?”

“Of course,” he confirms nonchalantly, looking back out to the sunrise, the golden light reflecting off his face. “I know you can only truly be at peace once I leave it all behind. That’s what’s important to me.”

You turn to the look at the sunrise also with a small joyous laugh. “You’re the soppiest man I’ve ever met.”

He shrugged, rubbing circles into the back of your hand. “It’s like I’ve told you, deep down, I’m a lover, not a fighter. What can I say?”

“But are you a better lover, or are you a better fighter?” you turn to him, a teasing grin on your face.

“Oh,” He scoffed and a small smirk lit up his face, the boyishness he had left in him rising to the surface. “Don’t act like you don’t already know the answer to that. I’m happy to remind you before I leave, so it stays fresh in your memory, I still have a few hours.”

You laugh at him, but when you turn to him again he’s giving you a pointed look, something fiery glints in his eyes, his lips are pressed together earnestly. So you get up without a word, suppressing the haughty smile as you hear him follow you towards your bedroom.

He leaves with a kiss, a flurry of sweet nothings in your ear, and instead of feeling dismayed you feel hopeful. Optimistic. Less goodbyes were on the horizon from the sweetest man you had ever known.

🦚Alejandro Vargas🦚

On the mornings of he’s due out on long mission, Alejandro wakes you up with kisses, littering them on your face, your neck, for extra motivation he’ll plant some on your thighs and special one on your hip bone. He’d huskily murmur and ramble about how much he loves you and how he can’t wait for this bullshit to be over with so he can get back to you.

“Just want to lay in bed with you all day,” he’d groan into your neck. “Why do you have to be so warm and soft and delicious all the time?”

You laugh at him, cherishing the way his arms wrapped that extra bit tighter around you. “This is the life you picked,” you teased. “My hero, always making huge sacrifices.”

“Being away from you is the biggest sacrifice mankind has ever seen,” he propped himself up on his elbow, and bless his heart he did have a genuine, endearing pout on his face, like a child who didn’t want to get up for school. “You gonna be good for me while I’m gone? Best behaviour?”

You make a fake gaging sound, rolling your eyes heavily at him. “Hurry up and leave, my god.”

His response his to envelope you in a bear hug again, nipping at your ears and neck, squeezing your sides while you whine in protest.

It’s when he levels you with a heart felt sincere look you grow serious too, gazing back into his eyes wordlessly. He plants a kiss to your lips and you snuggle back into him.

“I love you so much,” he yawns. “So so much.”

“Love you more.”

“Impossible.”

You lay in silence for a while, his hold on you growing tighter, you fight the urge to drift back to sleep. “You know,” he sighs, kissing your temple. “Maybe they don’t need me for this one.”

“Really?” You ask, almost hopefully.

“No…” he groans dramatically into your hair, clamping a hand down onto the back of your head. “I /have/ to go. God damn it. Who would be me… Jesus Christ.”

Your suppress your grin and he curses to himself, forcing himself up. You almost cry at the sudden loss of contact. An impish smile comes to his face as he rips the sheets back, throwing them off the bed.

You recoil into yourself, your body clad in just your underwear meaning it’s instantly exposed to the fresh air. “You’re such an asshole.”

He laughs, running a hand through his hair. “When I come home,” he gestures towards your body, raising his eyebrows in approval. “You better be waiting for me just like that, I’ll accept nothing less.”

“You’ll come home to an empty house if you carry on,” you grumble as you cross the bed to grab the sheets, but you smile at him, rolling your eyes. “Go on, go shower, get ready, you’ll be late.”

He holds out his hand to you. “So what are you waiting for? Come on, you’re holding me up.”

You tut but can’t stop yourself from taking his hand. He leads you into the bathroom, and like always, you give him the send off that’s made him come to enjoy getting up to go on missions.

🥃Captain John Price 🥃

Expert preparation and years of experience meant the captain was calm on the mornings he was due on missions. You both got up very early, you cooked eggs while he flicked through a newspaper.

“This one’s gonna be a walk in the park, love,” he spoke to your turned back, voice more rich and decadent due to few hours he had been awake. “I’ll be back by Friday afternoon, easy.”

“If you say so,” you mused, a small smile coming to your face, yet your mind lingered on last time, he had come back with a vicious knife wound to the shoulder, a ghastly long laceration that you had to change the dressing for. You can remember the way the colour was stolen from his cheeks, how glassy his eyes had become and it was like a glimpse of something unspeakable… You swallowed the thoughts down, shooed the memories away like they were mischievous ghosts in the rooms of your mind. Your man had been doing this for years and years, he was the best in the game, you had nothing to worry about.

You soon placed the plate down in front of him, his scrambled eggs and toast, always his favourite. You watch him eat as you enjoyed your cup of coffee, he points his fork at the eggs and nods with satisfaction as he chews. “To this day, the best scrambled eggs I’ve ever tasted.”

You laugh silently, a small breath coming through your nose, but your know it doesn’t meet your eyes. You catch his gaze and he mirrors your emotion even as he chews. He’s caught you starting to slip into the sadness. “You’ll always be careful won’t you? Think of me before you jump in front of a bullet or something?”

He tosses the last piece of toast into his mouth and pauses before answering, wiping the crumbs from his hearty moustache. He then leans forward, reaching across the kitchen table to grab your hand, rubbing his calloused thumb over your knuckle and you look up at him.

“When shit hits the fan and I have to fight my way back home, tooth and nail, your gorgeous little face pops into my head, and that’s what drives me forward.”

You drop your gaze to your lap as you feel your heart ripple and flutter accordingly, a tender lump begin to swell in your throat. “Fight for yourself too. Don’t just do it for me.”

“No chance,” he dismissed. “It’s all for you, love. I’d be much more reckless if I didn’t have you here waiting for me.”

You breathe a smile and squeeze his hands, he raises your own hand to his lips, smiling into the skin gingerly as he kisses it.

As always, you stand at the front door as he gathers his bags and gear. He lays several languid kisses to your lips, relatively chaste but still passionate and lingering enough to make you wish you were both still entwined together in your beautifully warm bed. You ache when you remember how he had made love to you last night, like you were the most precious treasure to grace the earth, like he was scared to break you yet couldn’t get enough of you, like he couldn’t ever drink you in quite as much as he needed to.

He holds your face and stares for a moment, and you know he is drinking you in, surveying every feature. You can fully comprehend why that is.

“I love you, darling.”

“I love you too,” you respond softly, wrapping your hands around his wrists and turning your head to kiss his palm that’s right next to your mouth. “Please be careful.”

“Always.”

You watch him walk down the drive and get into the transport. You sigh, holding your chest, praying to whoever to bring him home once again.

🧼 Johnny “Soap” Mactavish 🧼

Your man, he was back from his run, hopping in the shower, all by 5am

You knew he was due away in a couple hours, so you thought you might as well get up with him. After all, if he could do all this before 5, the least you could do was get up and make him some breakfast.

You made him a full English, his favourite. The running and predictable joke between you two being of course, he was Scottish.

He was sat on the bed in his boxers when you brought it in on a tray.

“You shouldn’t have babe,” he grinned, all white teeth and sparkling blue eyes. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was a military man and not some swanky real estate agent or something.

You still flush and burn at him in this state, half naked, laying back propped against the pillow, staring up at you like you held the key to everything beautiful in the world.

“You’ve got a busy few weeks ahead of you,” you respond, setting the tray down. “Best you get off to a good start.”

He looked down at the food and then back up at you, a frown marring his features.

“Where’s yours though, hen?”

“I’ll make something later,” you wink. “Too focused on taking care of you right now.”

You sit down at the end of the bed as he tucks in. “I’ll have to put a ring on your finger if you carry on like this.”

You scoff, leaning back against the bed frame at the foot of the bed. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,”he chirps back enthusiastically. “Married person behaviour this is. Going above and beyond the line of duty.”

He sucks some stray tomato ketchup off his thumb, watching you with mirth as you watch him back, mildly unamused. You found it quite cheeky for him to tease you with the idea of a proposal.

Still, you couldn’t take him seriously, it was extremely difficult to.

“Well,” you begin, nabbing a hash brown from the plate, he tries to swat your hand away but you’re too nimble. “You’re my big strong hard working man. And you deserve it all.”

“You’re damn right there,” he nods. “Wouldn’t argue with that at all.”

You sit in silence for a while, companionable and comfortable, the birds begin to chirp prettily as dawn breaks and soon Johnny turns off the small lamp on your bedside as daylight floods the room. He places the tray to the side, making a point of rubbing his stomach, much to your endearment, he has bloated a little, sporting a small pot belly now. “Amazing as always.”

You smile, shrugging at him. The melancholy begins to set in just as the alarm clocks red sabres set to 6am. He sensed it, a misty glaze coming over his face to mirror yours. “Gonna miss me huh?”

You nod quickly, ducking your head down.

He coos at you and then opens his arm, smiling consolingly. “C’mere gorgeous.”

You crawl to him, tucking yourself into his arm, laying your head on his chest and he begins to stroke your hair tenderly, his touch rendered unbelievably soft, lingering, it’s blissful. “Same as always. Gone for a little while, and then back again. Before you even miss me too much. What you gonna do while I’m gone?”

“Just working,” you murmur, you’ve shut your eyes now.

“And what else? Something fun?”

“Mm.”

“I know,” he taps your shoulder. “You keep telling me how you want to learn how to paint. You could go to art classes.”

You raise your head to look at him, to see if he was serious, you plant your hands in his chest. “Maybe…”

“Yeah you should,” he shakes your shoulder, as if he’s trying to get you excited. “I’ll pay, use my card. But you have to paint me something amazing. That’s my only condition.”

“Amazing? I’d be a beginner.”

“No excuses,” he smirked, tapping you on the nose. “I expect a Picasso… or a… um…”

You let out a laugh as his faces twists in confusion, something akin to a perplexed puppy. “Christ, you know that’s the only one I know. That’s bad, that is. Really should have stayed in school longer.”

You hum, resting your head back on his chest, feeling his flesh beneath your hands. “Love you.”

“Love you too sweetheart,” and he held you against him for as long as he could, before he had to set off on his travels.

You told him before he left; “I’ll paint you the best picture the worlds ever seen, as long as you come back.”

“Deal.”

#mw3 #mw2 #need to find passion for writing again for these sweet boys 🥺#call of duty modern warfare 3

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