#soap mactavish kin | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

frogchiro · 8 months

Text

I-I just can't stop thinking about Captain MacTavish and his stupidly large, uncut cock and full, low hanging breeder balls :((

He's just,, so much man you get me? He's large, and bulky, well developed muscles moving and flexing beneath a layer of fat, thick, slightly tanned skin and a thick layer of dark hair all over his chest, tummy and happy trail and he's fucking proud of it.

Captain MacTavish isn't afraid to strut and parade himself like a prized stallion, showing off in front of all the soldiers but especially in front of you, like that one time in some backwater safe house.

It was a real shit hole, barely holding together but it was better than nothing and poor little you had almost cried out of relief when you set the heavy backpack with your technical equipment down on the dusty floor, Captain MacTavish, Captain Price and Gaz following shortly after. Except there was one tiny problem; there was a very limited amount of warm water supply so either you shower all together or someone will get an ice cold bath, and with the raging snow storm outside, the rapidly declining temperature and only a shitty old fireplace to keep you 'warm' the answer was obvious.

While you were given the 'courtesy' of having a flimsy old curtain hung to protect your modesty, to be honest you kinda resigned from it since it was basically see-through anyway.

So now you were all naked, your poor soft body sore from all the running and carrying heavy equipment and to top it all off you were surrounded by equally naked, powerful men too :(( While Soap, Price and Gaz made a half-assed promise to not look, they obviously did just that; sneaking glances at your soft tits and broad hips, thick thighs all nice and bitable looking- but the worst of all was Captain MacTavish :((

He wasn't even trying to be subtle, he was shameless in fact. Soap was standing the closest to you and he made use of that position, flexing his burly body and turning you you could see his half-hard cock hanging between his powerful legs, balls hanging full and swollen form all the backed up sperm; fighting always made adrenaline and testosterone run hot through his veins and the close proximity and scent of a pretty young thing like you?? If Soap was a worse man he'd bend you over right there and then and stuff his fat cock inside your poor cunt, tip right against your cervix and all and maybe, just maybe his cock drooled a nice amount of precum while smirking like a wolf at your flustered squeak and the annoyed, jealous groans of the men around him :((

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #hackergirl!reader #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #captain soap mactavish #captain mactavish x reader #john price x reader #price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader

6K notes · View notes

kyoonnyoon · 8 months

Text

this week on “help: i think i’m questioning my gender”:

uhhhhh do i like ghoap because it’s cute and gay, or do i actually want to be soap so i can get ground pounded by my lieutenant?

#john soap mactavish #call of duty mwii #simon ghost riley #task force 141 #ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #call of duty #i kin john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish kin

37 notes · View notes

hazyaltcare · 3 months

Text

An aesthetic for a John "Soap" MacTavish (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (2022)) with themes of being transmasculine, nature, and positivity.

Mod Haze (☀️Sol)

#fictionkin #call of duty modern warfare ii kin #call of duty kin #cod mw2 kin #john soap mactavish kin #blue #green #pink #transgender #trans #transmasc #aesthetic #☀️#mod haze #tw military #tw firearms #tw bullets

7 notes · View notes

furretsden · 6 months

Text

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish {Call of Duty: Modern Warfer II} moodboard with winter themes for anon

#request completed!#johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish kin #cod mwii #cod mwii kin #cod #cod kin #fictionkin #moodboard #kin help

8 notes · View notes

itzymaeee · 1 year

Text

I just know every off duty ghost will stay on his house having a lil marathon of bluey him giggling and dancing along too so his inner child will be healed.

#its canon cuz i said so #i just need my boy simon atlist heal his inner child #i just know he kin muffin or bingo #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod #call of duty #ghost mw2 #gaz garrick #captain john price #soap mactavish #alejandro vargas

16 notes · View notes

technobladebrainrot · 1 year

Text

soapghost fic based off ‘something in the orange’ by zach bryan

#thinking about ghost having bpd i kin him so hard #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley #john soap mactavish #john mactavish

3 notes · View notes

kincalling · 2 years

Note

hi, er, im john "soap" mactavish looking for anyone from my source (call of duty: modern warfare 2, the remake) but mainly ghost. me and him were together in our canon. im an adult so please be the same. like and ill reply.

🐌

#john mactavish kin #soap cod kin #call of duty kin #call of duty modern warfare 2 kin #canon calls

6 notes · View notes

yeyinde · 11 days

Note

The 141 finding out you've never had sex.

Just casually drinking, playing cards. A joke causes it to slip out.

body electric: the virgin edition

Gaz, the instigator, mutters something about not having been fucked in ages. this springs up a sudden surge of comradery, because, yeah. neither have they.

Soap's devote Catholicism (i like to imagine) leaves little room for flippant intimacy. he tries to be a good boy. key word, of course, being: tries. but the last serious relationship was years ago. back when he was grunt. he's pent up. abstinence, yeah? he holds it tight in his hand. but the thing about fists is that they're often mistaken for anger. Soap's a realist masquerading as an optimist. he knows whoever falls into his jowls next will be a MacTavish by the time he's through with them. and commitment. well. his comes at a price. a hefty one.

Ghost prefers casual flings where he doesn't have to take any clothes off. unzips his trousers, frees his cock, and then tries to pretend he's a real, flesh and blood, human. to feel something, anything, except a vacuum between hollow bones. but his tastes are peculiar. on the side of unhinged. he hasn't found the perfect body yet satiate himself with.

Price. well. with his bloody hands, he thinks he'd rather not dirty the same people he swears to protect. and divorcing at the age of 30 does that to a man, maybe. his role as a captain (an excuse in retrospect) also keeps him from unleashing his wants. the very same ones that are probably best under lock and key, anyway. it's just for the best, really. something he ought to do because the moment he has another chance to sink his teeth into someone's neck, he'll tear them apart. break them into pieces.

despite bringing it up, Gaz knows the real reason he's single is because he's pushy. he wants. so he takes. and then takes some more. more. more. until his gullet is full of the person he's obsessed with. carrying them around in his breast pocket everywhere he goes. the perfect mate. the one he can shower with unfettered affection. a deluge, in all honesty. one with the ideation to drown. biblical floods. trapped beneath him. he likes it more than he should, but. singedom, then, he supposes.

and then you roll the dice. admit, sheepishly, that, technically, you have them all beat. zero is always lesser than five, ten, twenty. but it's this misstep—zero, never—that catches their attention.

suddenly, you're not surrounded by kin but a pack of wolves. all hungry in their own ways, all starving. it just makes sense to quench their hunger with you, doesn't it? friend, ally. pretty little thing. so sweet for them. and perfectly mouldable. putty they shape to their hearts desire. the perfect mate.

Soap grips his rosary. the sign of the cross, heavenly Father and Holy Spirit, digging into his palm like the burn of a baptism. what's devotion if not pain? he cuts himself on the gold. offers blood of the sacrament to whoever might be listening, and leans in, sniffing.

Price's knuckles are white. he leans back, hidden in shadows. all you can see is spark of burning orange from his cigar as he takes mouthful after mouthful of smoke, contemplating. assessing.

"that so?" he doesn't even need to look at his Lieutenant to know that the man has gone still. too bad for you, it's not from shock.

Ghost barely holds himself back. keeps tight in his seat. fists clenching. unclenching. he has a good enough read on the people around him to see the unfiltered desire ripping across their face. scorching. but to bite, with his mouthful of jagged, seraded teeth; ones meant to rip, break, tear, would ruin you. permanently. unequivocally. and—

"wanna give it a go?" all eyes turn to Gaz, electric in his seat. eyes smouldering umbre. "i mean, you trust us the most, don't you?" us. it's stunning, he thinks, the way Gaz can weave tapestry in the air like this with just his words. one tangled like shibari binds. "and we care for you a lot. we'll be gentle. it's up to you, of course, but—"

Soap's bloody hand disappears under the table. you gasp. "yer askin' fer it, ain't ye? beggin' so pretty fer it."

"n-no, i—"

"mind your manners." Price. his voice is chiselled into char, authoritative; low. a lulling command spoken in a breath of smoke. "and don't lie, love. or i'll have to take you over my knee."

the tension is thick. Soap's arm moves, slow. deliberate. Ghost has clench his jaw to avoid bearing his teeth. snarling.

Gaz cuts it with a knife. hews compliance into your skin with a fine needle point. "it's okay. we'll take such good care'a you. make you feel so good."

your submission is a heavy thing. oppressive. the shallow dip of your chin, the blistering heat simmering under your flesh, burning right, is the prettiest fuckin' thing he's ever seen. he does clench his jaw this time. tight, tight. tight

until something pops.

"okay." you yield. head bowed. beautifully submissive.

when he looks around, catches the predatory crackle in the air. his hackles raise. immediate. instinctual. and ah, right.

it's easy to forget he's surrounded by a wild pack of stray dogs. starving ones, too.

#141 x reader #my grandpa is going into town and im going w hin so i wrote this on the way sorry for the mistakes

2K notes · View notes

shadow4-1 · 12 days

Text

(Based on a true story) I'm just imagining being a military contracted funeral director who's responsible for handling Soap's funeral arrangements.

Apparently, depsite how much John MacTavish loved his family, he listed his Captain as next of kin in his will. You sit in the tiny arrangement conference room in a nice suit, surrounded by three distraught men in bloody tactical gear.

The giant Lieutenant in a skull mask is crying. Not sobbing, but just crying. As he blinks, big wet tears drip down in between the teeth's ridges. Even when he speaks his voice is still the same, even tone.

The one in the blue cap is bouncy and forcibly stoic. His jaw is set so hard you can see his forehead muscles clench. He pretends like you don't exist but you can feel his eyes on you every time you look away.

And the Captain...he's blank faced. He shows no emotion. He absent-mindedly flips through the packets of information in front of him. He asks honest, curious questions about the cremation authorization forms. It's obvious he's buried more than his fair share of people.

"You're not going to cut up his insides, right?" The blue cap asks. He catches you off guard, but also his squad.

"Garrick. Now is not the time." Captain warns.

You butt in, knowing damn well this won't end well without some mild intervention.

"You've selected a direct cremation package for Mr. MacTavish." You nod, gesturing to the papers in front of you. "Mr. MacTavish hasn't been autopsied, so...no. Nothing but cremation will be done to his body."

The blue cap sinks in his chair in relief. The Captain scoffs at him, but based on his and the Lieutenant's reaction, they also relax with that knowledge. You center yourself before forcing eye contact with every man in the room. You manage to get all of their attention.

"I'm here for you guys. If you need anything or have question, please let me know." You nod, smiling softly. "Mr. MacTavish will be well cared for. I promise."

The rest of the conference goes normally. The Captain signs the papers and thanks you for your hard work. You shake their hands and show them to the door. You offer the Lieutenant your suit's handkerchief on the way out. You expect him to give it back but he just takes it.

Little do you know, that night he can't stop himself from crying into it. Your little bit of genuine sweetness makes him want to keep living despite the fact the loss of Johnny makes him want to die.

#call of duty #cod imagines #mw2 #mw2 headcanons #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain price #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick

555 notes · View notes

mactavsh · 1 year

Text

Watching Over

Synopsis: Price tries to keep you awake while captured.

Relationships: Father Figure!Captain John Price x Female Reader, John “Soap” MacTavish x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: violence, swearing, mentions of blood/injuries

Note: Debated posting this one because it is quite self serving, but maybe someone else needs their fictional father figure to tell them they're proud of them too. The title was inspired from this song.

Masterlist

If it was an Intel mission that required a certain level of finesse, Laswell always knew who to send. You and Captain Price worked seamlessly after the many years of training he'd given you. He scouted you early on in your career quickly becoming a mentor in your eyes. He had also easily fallen into a paternal role, unbeknownst to him.

However, Laswell knew how Price had a habit of adopting kids. As a joke, she kept a running list of his “next of kin”. It started with you and has grown over the years to include Gaz, Soap and Ghost.

The mission required the two of you to go completely dark, Laswell was sending you to Mexico at the behest of Alejandro. You would both have to be in zero contact until the mission was complete. You both understood the gravity of the situation - there would be no backup.

You were given a month to track down an emerging cartel that was responsible for a rise in weapons trading. Los Vaqueros couldn’t yet make a move against them so Alejandro reached out to Laswell and Price for assistance.

When you landed in Mexico you had a brief meeting with Alejandro and Rodolfo to learn what they knew. After that you and Captain Price set out to see what you could find. By then end of your first week you had figured out the names of the higher ups and the locations of a few meeting spots.

However, when you had gone to infiltrate the meeting, there were more men than expected. The two of you certainly made quite a dent in their numbers but were eventually overpowered. You had been knocked out by someone who snuck up behind you. Price heard you fall and was distracted just long enough for someone to sneak up behind him, subsequently knocking him out next.

When you woke up you were both chained to metal chairs. You were situated on opposite sides of the room but facing each other. The cold metal dug painfully into your ribs with every breath. There were no windows, no way to tell how long you had been there.

Hours blurred into days then weeks. The daily torture had worn the both of you down. They gave you just enough food to keep you alive and looking at how Price’s features had grown sunken in you assumed yours had as well.

They had learned early on the dynamic between you two as much as you both tried to remain stoic, so they focused their torture on you hoping it would get Price to talk. What they didn't realize was that both Price and you would sooner die than tell them anything.

You were sure the check-in date Laswell had set had long since passed and you could only imagine the hell Soap, the 141, and Los Vaqueros were raising trying to find out what happened.

Your captors had just left after another bout of torture trying to get information out of both of you. Bruises began blooming on Price’s bare chest, emerging blue and red tones mixed with already yellow spots. Your arms sported new deep gashes atop barely healed scar tissue. Blood slowly trickled down your arms as your chest heaved. Your mind was dizzy from the pain and it was taking everything in you to stay awake.

“Stay with me, kid.” Price spoke from the other side of the room voice even and calm as it always was.

“I refuse to die at the hands of some random fuckin’ cartel member.” Your voice was firm despite the exhaustion you felt.

“That's my girl.” Price's chest swelled with pride that turned to worry as your head lolled downward. “Tell me about why you joined.”

You groaned and slowly brought your head back up to squint over at him. “Haven't I already?”

“You like to call me an old man.” He smirked, ”I forgot, tell me again.”

You huffed, if your brain wasn’t so foggy you would have immediately realized it was a tactic to keep you awake. “My dad served, his dad served, felt like I had to keep the legacy going. My grandfather also said I’d never outrank him so I had to prove him wrong.”

“That why you’re my youngest Staff Sergeant?”

“You bet your ass it is.”

Price forced out a laugh. “Out of spite, eh?“

“It’s how I do most things.”

“He still around? Your grandfather?”

“Passed a year or so after I was promoted.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

You shrugged as best you could with the chains restricting your movement. “He lived a long happy life.” Price didn’t press further about your family, he knew your parents were also passed and you didn’t have any siblings. The 141 had become your found family and he was happy that you were no longer alone.

“You remember the day we met?” Price pressed, trying to keep you awake.

“Yeah,” You breathed out, exhaustion dancing in the corner of your eyes. “you called me a muppet.”

Price smiled recalling the day. “You looked bloody ridiculous under all that gear. Five feet tall wearing gear in Ghost’s size.”

“My CO did it on purpose when we got word you were coming to scout recruits for some secret spy shit. He wanted his golden boy to be picked.”

“Bastard's plan failed. When I saw you running the course like that I knew you were the best for the job.”

You looked down at your feet, you weren’t sure you could ever put into words how thankful you were for all he's done for you. “Thank you, for choosing me. You pulled me out of a dark place that day though I didn't see it at the time.”

“You’ve got nothing to thank me for. Hell, you’ve saved my life more times than I can count. I’m proud of you, Y/n. You’re a whole lot more than you give yourself credit for.”

You weren’t sure if it was the praise or the blood loss but tears began to well in your eyes and you were powerless to stop them.

“When we get out of here we are going on leave.” The Captain’s voice was firm, an unofficial order.

“That so? Don’t think my husband would let me go on holiday with another man.” You joked half-heartedly, the day you told Price you were officially dating Soap he had called the sergeant into his office. An hour passed before you saw either of them again and for a week after that Soap could barely make eye contact with the captain. When you and Soap had gotten married it was Price who walked you down the aisle.

Price rolled his eyes. “All of us. Been too long since we had a day we weren’t fighting for our lives.”

“Would be nice.”

“Thinkin' a lakeside cabin deep in the woods. I’m going to teach everyone how to fish-” Just then the sounds of distant explosions rocked the room you were in. Concrete dust fell into your lap and you stared at it for a moment.

“I hope that's our favorite demolitions expert.” You spoke as you looked back up at Price.

“Wonder how they found this shithole.”

“Alejandro?” You proposed as another explosion sounded, this time closer.

“Maybe. These idiots probably got cocky and sent some bloody ridiculous ransom note to Los Vaqueros.”

The sound of gunshots grew near, gradually getting louder until they stopped altogether. Price looked at you then you both looked at the door. What felt like an eternity passed until the door was broken open. A familiar masked face entered, gun at the ready until his eyes settled on the room’s occupants.

“Bloody hell,” Ghost said as he dropped his weapon and pressed the button on his communication device. “I’ve got Price and Y/n. Second-floor northwest corner.” He grabbed the bolt cutters off his back and moved towards you, quickly snapping the chains that were holding you in place. He put a hand on your shoulder and you grabbed his forearm, both gently squeezing the other before letting go, a silent reassurance. He then stood and moved toward Price to free him.

You stayed seated and rubbed your wrists, you knew if you stood now the blood loss would likely make you pass out. The sounds of footsteps in the hallway made your body tense before Soap’s frantic form stepped through the doorway.

“Thank fuckin’ Christ.” Soap spoke as he ran toward you. He kneeled in front of you, gently placing his gloved hands on either side of your face. He rubbed his thumb along your cheek, careful of the small cut there. “You alright, love?”

You stared into his eyes for a moment, basking in the blueness that had come to feel like home. A tired smile crossed your face as you leaned into the gentle touch. “Better now.”

Soap smiled back and you and then slowly helped you stand. He kept a gentle hold on your arm as you regained your equilibrium. After you were sure you weren't going to pass out you walked over to Price, immediately wrapping your arms around him.

“We made it, old man.” You spoke into his chest.

Price placed his chin on your head and gently rubbed his hand along your back. “Knew we would, kiddo.”

Bonus:

“Should I be jealous?” Soap whispered jokingly to Ghost as they watched the exchange.

“Shut the fuck up, Soap.” Ghost rolled his eyes before swatting the back of Soap’s mohawk.

#captain john price #john price #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #mactavsh

2K notes · View notes

frogchiro · 5 months

Text

On this beautiful christmas day I come to you with the image of Captain MacTavish and his hairy musky body :((

He's build like a tank, thickly corded muscles woth a nice layer of fat over them and most important- his thick, dark and coarse hair that spans thickly over his pecks, chest and down to his tumny up until his thick happy trail :((

John is a very proud man, very boisterous and loves to show off his body, especially to you♡ May come off as a bit pushy but that's just how he is, he's a captain and used to authority so when you're seated on his big dick, all whiny that you're tired already, that your poor hips re bruised and achy from all the rounds he put you through and you still need to debrief with Price about the information you found! :(( And Captain MacTavish is so mean! Doesn't want to let you off of his dick, says that after that last mission that unexpectedly lasted longer than previously thought, his balls are simply bursting with so much backed up sperm and now he has to empty himself in a pretty soft thing, namely you♡

#kin speaks #hackergirl!reader #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #captain mactavish x reader #captain soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #captain soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish

2K notes · View notes

greatstormcat · 5 months

Text

New Beginnings - Part 5

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick x Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x f!reader

Masterlist

TW: MDNI 18+, angst, hurt/comfort, injury, canon typical violence discussed

The first few days without hearing from Kyle and Johnny wasn’t too bad, you threw yourself into your work and it proved a perfect distraction. After having made a career writing romance novels and putting imaginary people through horrendous emotional trauma, you suddenly found yourself in the middle of your own personal heart-aching hell. It made great fodder for your storyline, you told yourself.

By the end of the first week you’d sent multiple chapters off to be proofread and edited, receiving huge praise for the quality of your writing. Your heroine was currently alone in the vampire’s castle while they left her behind to go to war with a rival clan. She was trying not to admit she was in love with her captors… it made you cringe at how much you were just processing your own emotions on the page, but there was talk that this could turn into a bestseller.

At the end of the two weeks the mission was planned to take, you felt you were ready to crawl out of your own skin, waiting for your phone to ring or a message to appear at any second. You didn’t want to miss anything when it came through, didn’t want them to think you weren’t here waiting for them. The regret at not having told them how you felt was gnawing at your insides, all the while you refused to acknowledge the endless stream of what-ifs that rose up in your mind like sunken corpses in the sea. It felt like a betrayal to them to think the worst, to think that they couldn't handle whatever situation they were in right now. But it was hard not to.

By the end of the third week, you were struggling to sleep, and when that rolled over into a fourth week without any contact you didn’t know what to do. You had no idea who to call, who to turn to to get any sort of idea what was happening. You found yourself pacing the house, searching through drawers and cupboards for anything that might give you a shred of information on who to speak to. But, of course, they were seasoned professionals and there was nothing left lying around that could let anyone find information that could compromise the team or a mission.

You ended up sitting at the lounge floor, hugging yourself and having no option but to hope that whatever happened, you’d find out somehow. It was the most alone you’d ever felt.

Two more days pass before your phone rings with an unfamiliar number on the screen, waking you from a guilty half sleep at the kitchen table where you had been trying to work. You scramble to answer it, almost dropping the device into the tiled floor in your haste and risking smashing the thing.

“Hello?” You say, trying to keep the desperation from your tone in case this was yet another unrelated call or scammer. You’d let loose at two scammers already and fully expected they’d give up now and find another line of work after the abuse you gave them.

“Hello,” an unfamiliar, deep baritone voice replies. “This is Captain John Price.” Your eyes snap up to the photo on the fridge, the bearded man in that picture was their Captain.

“You’re Kyle and Johnny’s Captain… right?” You ask, your heart pounds and throat hurts as you stare at the photograph of the four men looking passively back at you from the glossy piece of card.

“That’s right, love,” he answers, you hear him huff out a deep breath, clearly preparing to say something he doesn’t want to. You close your eyes, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you prepare for whatever he is about to say. “I know that you’re living with them, Ghost has put in for your clearance and Soap asked for you to be listed as his Next of Kin as he hasn’t got any family. That’s why I didn’t want to leave you in the dark.”

You swallow, fighting back the taste of bile in your mouth.

“I appreciate this,” you croak. “What’s going on? They said they’d be back after three weeks at the most.”

“The situation is we haven’t heard from them in two weeks,” he tells you, clearly preferring to get to the point. “We have people looking for them, but the nature of their mission means we have to be careful, so it’s gonna take time.”

“I understand,” you tell him as your fears come to life. They might not be coming back.

“Believe me, those three are some of the best I’ve ever had the honour to serve with,” he tells you, sincerity and pride coming through loud and clear over the line. “I’m not giving up on them, and you shouldn’t either. They’ll come home.”

You thank him for his call, and he tells you to save his number, promising you that you will know the moment they are found.

When the call ends you feel numb, sitting and staring at the photo for a long time. After a while you get to your feet and tell yourself to move, hoping that this will help calm your fears and you drift around the house aimlessly, finally finding yourself at the door to their bedroom.

When you’d first moved in you assumed the two other bedrooms were split between them both but you soon learned that they shared the same room. The other was a crash pad for when one of them was leaving early or coming back late and didn’t want to wake the other.

You let yourself into their room, sitting on the kingside bed and running your hand over the covers. It all smells of them, a lovely combination of cologne and their individual skin and hair products.

A hoody hangs in the back of a chair by the window, and you walk over to pick it up and scrunch the fabric up to your face, before slipping it in over you t-shirt.

The next few days you wear the hoody, keeping the smell of them as close to your skin as possible. On the afternoon of thirtieth day after they left, your phone rings and Captain Price’s name flashes on the screen. You throw yourself at the phone to answer it as quickly as possible.

“I’m sending a car to get you and bring you to the base, they’re going to be back in a few hours,” he tells you, the sound of engines and shouting in the background making it hard to hear. “They’re a little banged up, but they’re in one piece.”

“Is Ghost okay too?” You ask quickly as the relief floods through you. There’s a short chuff from the Captain, a laugh perhaps at your question.

“Yeah, he’s fine too. I will tell him you asked, might loosen him up a bit to know he made an impression on you,” he says.

“Thank you Captain,” you say. “Will I get to see you when I’m there? I’d like to thank you in person, if that’s okay?” He chuckles and agrees to see you.

As promised a car arrives an hour later and you find yourself being driven by a polite and unquestioning young soldier through towards the base as night settles over the landscape. The floodlit gates loom out of the darkness soon enough, and you're handed a pass on a lanyard with instructions to keep it on at all times.

You follow the soldier as they lead you into a squat building that looks identical to every other one you’ve passed, your bearings completely screwed as everything is so uniform, identical. You’re led to a door that looks like every other and taken inside. The man waiting in there is one you recognise easily, his beard so uniquely shaped and the tiredness in his features an exact mirror of your own.

“Captain Price?” You ask, and he nods, giving you a tight smile that wrinkles the skin around his eyes. Relief shows through the exhaustion on his face.

“That’s right,” he nods and pulls out a chair for you to sit down at the long table. You look around at the room, it’s some kind of meeting room, clean and plain like everything else on the base.

The Captain explains in the vaguest of terms that the mission took an unexpected turn and the team were forced to go into hiding. The three men are back with minor injuries, but have been surviving in rough conditions.

He gives you a careful look when your shoulders finally relax, hearing that Kyle and Johnny are okay, and an unspoken question hangs in the air around him. His shrewd eyes picking you apart bit by bit, and for a moment you feel panic stir in your gut.

“Look, for what it’s worth, I’ve known about Soap and Gaz before they even did, and however you fit in with that is fine too. We live a life drenched in blood and pain, whatever they need to find some peace away from all this isn’t a problem with me. Just keep it quiet, for their sakes,” He says, he gets up and heads to the door. “Wait here, love, and as soon as they’re cleared with Medical I will let them know you’re here.”

It feels like an eternity that you sit and wait for them in that room, your eyes start to drift shut and you slump onto the table, head resting on your forearms and promise yourself you’ll just rest your eyes for a moment.

You don’t hear the door open as they both come in, their bodies aching and exhausted, cuts and bruises bandaged, until they pull you up gently into an almost crushing hug between them. As soon as your brain kicks into gear you grab onto them, tears and sobs cracking from your throat as they hold you and hush you softly. Reassurances are whispered against your cheeks as stubble rubs against your skin from them both.

“Its okay, lass,” Johnny coos quietly, “We’re here now.”

“C’mon, lets get home,” Kyle says, nodding at Johnny over your shoulder, and the three of you leave together.

Gaz lets you drive them both back home in his car so he and Johnny can sit in the back together. The journey felt much quicker this time, and it’s gone midnight by the time you arrive back at the house. You shoo them inside, both too exhausted to complain or argue with your instructions as you herd them to bed. You grab them both a glass of water and put one by each side of the bed and then turn out the lights. When you turn to leave a hand grips your wrist.

“Hey, where d’ya think you’re going?” Kyle mumbles. “Get your arse in here.”

For a split second you think you’ll say no, but the look in his eyes makes it clear it isn’t a request and you crumble instantly. With a small nod and a smile, you slip out of your clothes and wriggle into bed in your underwear, between the two of them as told. The weight of their limbs over you and the heat from their skin quickly lulls you to sleep despite the urge to lay there and watch over them both.

You wake up late in the morning, and you bask in the warmth and comfort of being nestled between your boys, the sounds of gentle breathing in your ears, before you extract yourself from the tangle of limbs being careful not to wake them. Your first task is to email your publisher and tell them you are going to be unreachable for a few days for personal reasons, so you head directly to your laptop to do this and fire the email away as quickly as possible.

The urge to pee is nagging at you, so you quickly head to the bathroom after opening your draft folder and forget to lock the screen. You walk back into the kitchen after you’ve relieved yourself and stop dead in your tracks, Johnny is sitting at the table in his boxers, focused on your laptop screen intently. His eyes flick up to yours briefly before going back to reading your copy, but he beckons you over to him with a waving of his hand. With a sigh you walk over beside him, shoulder slumped slightly, and his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you into his lap.

“This is good,” he murmurs, “really good. It’s you, isn’t it?” His clear blue eyes, usually brimming with mirth and mischief, burn into yours with an intensity you’ve not seen before. His hand rubs loose circles on the small of your back through your dressing gown.

“Yes, that’s me,” you admit with a self depreciating chuckle, and his arms tighten around your middle.

“This was hard for you, do you honestly think you want to do this? With us I mean?” He asks softly, and there’s a note of sadness in his voice as he gives you an escape hatch. A chance to say you don’t want a life with them if it means living in fear of the worst outcome every time they go away.

“Lets go and get Kyle so you can both hear what I want to say,” you smile.

150 notes · View notes

hazyaltcare · 3 months

Text

A high-energy playlist for a John "Soap" MacTavish (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (2022)) kin with themes of Scotland and nature.

Tracklist:

The Silencers - The Real McCoy

Runrig - Clash of the Ash

McCafferty - Scotland

Dropkick Murphys - The Battle Rages On

Of Monsters and Men - Mountain Sound

Cosmo Sheldrake - The Moss

The Oh Hellos - Soldier, Poet, King

Twin Atlantic - Mothertongue

The Lumineers - Scotland

Glass Animals - Solar Power

You can listen to it here.

Mod Haze (🧨Tate)

#fictionkin #call of duty kin #modern warfare kin #call of duty modern warfare ii kin #soap kin #john soap mactavish kin #celtic punk #celtic rock #alt folk #indie rock #solarpunk #playlist #🧨#mod haze #tw gun #tw military

6 notes · View notes

furretsden · 10 months

Text

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish {Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II} care kit with no further specification for anon

🍃 🍃 🍃 | 🍃 🍃 🍃 | 🍃 🍃 🍃

#request completed!#johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish kin #cod mwii #cod mwii kin #cod #cod kin #fictionkin #care kit #kin help

12 notes · View notes

lunarw0rks · 8 months

Note

Hi!!! I just wanna start by saying I love your writing so much. I always look forward to seeing what you share next!

Can I request a little something about reader who grew up never really having their birthday celebrated/they always downplay it. Then here comes Soap who loves nothing more than to celebrate his loves ones and reader is touched and basically almost sobs at how he genuinely enjoys making their day special🥺

This is totally not a self-indulgent ask whatsoever. If you can get to this, that'd be sweet but if not that's ok too! Have a great day💗

warning(s); sfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, pining? but still platonic by the end, military!reader, gn!reader, no use of y/n word count: 1.6k // not proofread

TRADITIONS | SOAP MACTAVISH

birthday celebrations were never on your radar, and especially not after choosing such a rugged career.

there often wasn't time for streamers and light conversation; it was anything but those things. throughout your childhood, there weren't momentous parties or cheery wishes thrown your way. it was... not much of a celebration at all.

after you grew out of your innocence, the sting of it disappeared over time. or you learned to ignore it. either way, you never expected parties, gifts, or anything alike.

it was better this way; you'd repeat to yourself.

yet, when passing a park and seeing a child's entire kin gathered to celebrate the milestone—you have that same cramp in your chest as if you hadn't aged at all.

today was akin to any other; exhausting. long hours of PT and drills, paired with new material to study, courtesy of Price. the busier the better, though, because it was less chance of your captain mentioning the big day, even in passing.

thankfully, he hadn't, nor did the rest of them.

it was the peaceful hours before official lights out, when every soldier retreated to their quarters and occupied themselves with something, or simply slept early. you sat down on the thin cot with a beat sigh, unzipping your tight boots and setting them aside—procrastinating shining them by morning.

through all the uncertainty, there's one thing you're sure of—a steamy shower. the hot beads of water cleanse you of the dirt and grime of today and its meaning.

you figure that once you get into bed and tomorrow rolls around, it'll be another birthday stifled and forgotten.

one moment, you're sitting on the edge and applying lotion to your dry and cracked hands, and next, you're startled by a knock at the door. you gazed at the digital clock on your nightstand;

10:38 PM

at this hour, what could it possibly be? with this task force, you'd been conditioned to expect anything, at any time—and that did not inspire confidence at the moment.

"it's open," you replied reluctantly, not wanting to get the doorknob greasy with lotion remnants. with a few struggling grunts, the door finally opened and closed.

his hairstyle, as recognizable as ever. "there ya are." he said with enthusiasm, in the likeness of an over-excited detective that solved a tough case.

"c'mere for a minute," he curled his fingers. despite his cheeky smile, you indulge his request. slipping off the edge, you approach him and supply only a perplexed look.

you were quickly running out of guesses, "Mactavish, what is—"

an explosion; tiny fragments falling like ash all around your body. some landed in your hair, others on your shoulders, and most on the leaden cement floor of the barracks.

you opened your eyes after they squinted from the startle. you grabbed the dainty rain, looking down and seeing rainbow confetti pieces. soap's palm was open, and he was actively chuckling at your shocked expression.

"hello, you in there? happy birthday?" he says, as a question, because you haven't had much of a reaction. to him, it probably looked like you hated the surprise.

a rush of emotions pumped through you; disbelief, gloom, and overbearing all—consolation.

warmth spread over your chest and cheeks, and you're suddenly overcome with all the feelings at once. you fumbled through a sentence, "oh, you didn't have to— really, Soap, it's... wait, how did you do the...?"

"—the confetti?" soap sneers, as if he'd been waiting for you to mention his party trick. "trick o' the palm, i can't tell ye more; it's classified."

for a few moments, you stare at one another. his beam is genuine, but yours is unsure and borderline awkward. when you're literally smacked in the face with surprise, everything feels unrefined and alien. especially birthdays.

"don't be daft, had to help you celebrate. besides, you didn't say anythin' today." lightly, he smacked your shoulder, knocking the silence from your throat.

"I just don't see the point, I guess," you reply, and soften your expression to make it known that you still appreciate the kind gesture. following, you shook off some of the confetti from your shoulders as if ridding your body of the festivities.

soap furrows his brows with genuine confusion, "in what? confetti or my presence?"

"in birthdays." you assert, a stark contrast to his playful nature. "never really celebrated one before."

his shock was authentic and obvious, pulled together with slightly agape lips, "you can't be serious— never?" you nodded, sticking to your story, because it wasn't a story at all. it was your truth. "don't you want gifts? all the attention? what about the cake?"

"it's not from a lack of trying, MacTavish. you can't exactly... want something you've never had." you scoff, looking the eager sergeant up and down.

he does the same, and his heart sinks when he senses no lies. you really aren't lying, and you really are this indifferent about your own birthday.

to him, it's completely unheard of. birthdays were some of his core memories, his own and his family back home. how could you have been deprived of that for so long, and be so... collected?

"doesn't matter where you came from, or why; you deserve a celebration."

his merriment wasn't posed as a question anymore, and you didn't want it to be either. part of you—so deep down you hadn't felt it right away—wanted to be celebrated on your special day.

all of it caught up with you at once, and without any strength to conceal it, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes. a glimpse of your damaged and long-deprived inner child, presented through a grown soldier's body.

he brought you closer, a supportive hand on the nape of your neck as you clung to him tightly. "thank you." you muttered, chin resting on his shoulder.

"aye, but it's nothing." soap pulled you back, forcing you to stare at him head on. a thumb reached up and wiped the salty tears, then smoothed over your cheek. "y'know what, I know what we've got t' do." he breathes, voice dropping to a whisper, as if concealing his idea from the world.

your face scrunched in confusion. "we?"

as if ignoring your question, he kept rambling, "you have holiday coming up. request time off, and i'll take you all the way home with me."

"all the way home?" you queried, unsure of what kind of holiday to be picture. with him, it could be anything under the blazing sun.

he slowed down his speech and affirmed, "all the way home." it dawned on you what he meant, but nothing sour arose from that idea.

"Nana, she'll put on one hell of a party for you, trust me." finally, his rambles had calmed, awaiting your reaction. it was near impossible to refuse his puppyish demeanor, the one he shifted into when he wanted something the most.

"cake?" you questioned, surprising him with almost no argument. the nonchalance had to look uncanny, considering your cheeks were still stained with streams.

he grinned with satisfaction. "aye, 'course there's cake. can't forget the streamers, and best of all—the MacTavish rugrats, and brood, in one place."

well, now that sounded more like a nightmare; your mind filled with the image of a hundred little mohawks reaping havoc on your birthday party. but in the middle of the chaos would be you and soap; the only mildly convincing part of this scheme.

"i can't expect your whole family to gather and plan a party for someone they've never met. let alone m—"

"well, actually, that's the kicker," he interjected, unveiling a new layer to his little birthday scheme. one he could've been planning for god knows how long. "Nan is having a get-together around that time, it won't be a fuss f' her."

you would be nearly stunned if it weren't for a few pressing questions. what he'd said early hit you like a ton of bricks, and now it was full-on suspicion. "wait a minute, johnny. how did you know i had holiday time?"

it all seemed too much of a coincidence. and that's because, it wasn't.

for a man trained to endure the worst kinds of torture, he cracked under the pressure almost instantly.

"may have... done some digging in Cap's office. that's how i figured out your birthday." he figured it better to rip off the bandaid preemptively than have deflected now and have you throwing him out the airplane window.

you gasped slightly, "christ, is privacy illegal in this place? actually, that probably is illegal, MacTavish, i could have you—"

"—are ye goin' with me or not?" soap interrupted.

it wasn't like you said no. just like it wasn't the first time he'd mentioned you to his family. but that was a skeleton to uncover on another day, and hopefully not during the plane ride.

you outstretched a hand, "if you're paying? a deal is a deal."

"see? wasn't so hard. besides, i know i'm hard to deny." he ran an arrogant hand through his hair, instead of shaking your hand proper.

instead of complaining, you knew just how to press his buttons. "come to think of it, johnny." you tilted your head, reading to have the last laugh.

"you have any embarrassing juvenile stories? or better yet, does Nana have any baby pictures i might like to see?" you continued, watching his haughtiness fizzle instantly.

he took a few steps back, cheeks rosy, "you know what— in two hours that birthday of yours will be over, and you know what happens then? first dibs on my knuckles, soldier."

that tells you the answer was yes.

on second thought, this was going to be a very fun excursion.

˗ˏˋ divider cred. - cafekitsune ˎˊ˗

#john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap x you #soap x reader #soap x y/n #soap x gn!reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap mw2 #soap mwii #mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #mw2 fanfic

223 notes · View notes