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All one and the same. Guilty. Soldier. Captain. Murderer. War Criminal. Shepherd’s voice over a call once the silence has stretched out for long enough. The eyes of his boys burning holes into his head. “I think you’ve got some explainin’ to do, /Joseph/.”

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can stop him, reads through it– hands it to Gaz who reads it. Hands it to Ghost. Who reads it. Who drops it to the table, files and photos spilling out across the surface. Name: Joseph Allen. Rank: Private First Class Association: U.S. Army Rangers. Shadow Company. Status: KIA. [ANNULLED]

They know this day. They all do. Price more intimately than the others. But then the camera catches the face of one of the soldiers– younger. /Familiar./ The 141 are shaking with horror and rage– Price is shaking from fear, rooted to the spot. Soap reaches for the folder before Price

The 141 and Kate are forced to watch as the footage plays as people are massacred. Screaming and panic, those trying to flee shot in their backs. Not a single person left standing. It’s a bloodbath. Hundreds killed. Any left so much as twitching are shot until they stop.

A video already playing on an open laptop, the screen in full view. It’s old camera footage of an airport– multiple men getting out of an elevator and open firing on civilians. On men, women and children alike. Shooting to kill. No survivors.

there’s very little that Shepherd won’t do to make sure his secrets stay secrets. So Shepherd throws him under the bus just when Price is about to find out his secrets. A plain manila folder with [LOOSE ENDS - CLASSIFIED] in bold red ink waiting for the 141 as they return from a mission.

very little he would not do in order to complete a mission. He’s good– too good. He snoops, he sometimes asks too many questions– uncovers secrets that some don’t want him to know. Secrets that people like Shepherd don’t want to get out. There’s very little Price won’t do to get a job done–

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He’s done everything right. Everything he has been asked to do since he became a soldier– all his superiors have to do is tell him to jump and he’ll ask how high. They ask him to kill, and he asks who. He’s good at his job. He gets things done, he asks questions where it matters and there’s

Especially not that one. Hell, Price believes that the scar should have been worse. He deserves it to be worse than it is now. He has the worst nightmares out of all of them. When knowing Ghost’s history, they would expect it to be Simon. But no– when Price’s screams wake them all in the night,

they see the tears before they fall whenever they cradle that old wound. The lightest of touches, the softest brush of lips over the scarring that has Price hiding his face because he doesn’t think he deserves it. His scars shouldn’t be gazed upon with admiration– not with reverence.

He’s supposed to be dead– that show alone should have killed him if not crippled him for life. But it didn’t. And they praise him for his survival– for recovering. They don’t understand or know where it’s from, but they see the pain in his eyes when they run their hands and lips over it,

Only a few inches from his heart, scar tissue parachuting across the skin of his chest. His boys are obsessed with it the first time they see it. Evidence of just how close Price had come to being killed before he met them– before he became their Captain and brought them all together.

respected. Seen. Important. A target. He knows that he has done things that he isn’t proud of– things that he’s ashamed of. One of his biggest regrets? The decision he made that nearly cost him his life when he was in his early 20s. A bullet wound, almost 20 years old– long since healed.

They are not fragile, but they deserve to be cradled– but all Price has ever known is how to break things. Himself included. It’s only a matter of time before he breaks his boys, too, in one way or another. But also John Price has clawed through hell in order to be where he is now–

John Price has known nothing but conflict his entire life. Who bleeds, sweats and cries violence and war since the age of 16. Who doesn’t know what gentle means– who doesn’t know how /to/ be gentle. Who is too scared to love his boys with his entire heart because he doesn’t want to break them.

Kitte (writes) @kittewrites.bsky.social · 08/10/2026

'there's blood in your trees, captain.' CW: Betrayal, Identity Reveal Summary: General Shepherd has secrets. So does Captain John Price. Shepherd beats him to the punch. #crabdrabblesthreads #poly141 #tf141 #captainjohnprice #codmw --

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#poly141 #kittewrites Gaz with wings, brown black and white like an owl's... He looks magnificent in flight and the rest of 141 is so smitten with him. He's completely soundless when he flies, taking his enemies by surprise, and he becomes 141's greatest asset when it comes to covert ops.

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Azalea Harris :P COMS OPEN @azaleaharrisart.bsky.social · 06/10/2026

There's some cute GazPrice on my Patreon !!!!!! I rarely indulge in this ship, but they're just so cute 🥺 patreon.com/AzaleaHarrisArt #GazPrice

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Crab 🦀 @crabdrabbles.bsky.social · 06/10/2026

SCREAMING SOBBING THROWING UP GNAWING AT DRYWALL

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pathetic man enjoyer 👯 @pregnantmanemoji.bsky.social · 05/10/2026

#captainjohnprice #captainprice #johnprice #cod #codmw2 #mw2 #nsfw #patheticmanposts self-love price treating himself to a candlelight dinner, a nice cigar watching the sunset paint the sky as starlings flock back to their nests, and then fisting himself until he's panting into the sheets

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Crab 🦀 @crabdrabbles.bsky.social · 04/10/2026

archiveofourown.org/works/939402... It's done!

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Spicymochi @spicymochi.bsky.social · 29/09/2026

I had to give her a friend

Illustration of two very round bears covered in snow

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Tamara💫 @tamararar.bsky.social · 28/09/2026

I imagine that Soap's death still haunts Price and considering how he's doing, I wouldn't be surprised if he actually hallucinated him. #cod #codmw #mw4 #captainjohnprice #captainprice #johnsoapmactavish #3drender #fanrender

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They were sitting in the living room a few hours later, shoulder to shoulder, practically fused at the hip, when Price asked the question. "Marry me?" "Thought you'd never ask, love." "Don't get frisky on the couch!" Mac yelled from the kitchen. They did it anyway just to spite him.

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"months to finish up me contract. I'm all yours." /I'm all yours./ Soap had left the SAS. The army. For /him./ To be /with him/. "You're staying this time?" "I'm staying." "We don't have to hide." "Aye, we don't have to hide." --

he'd ever had. "My stupid, stupid Captain." "... not a Captain any more." Price whispered into Johnny's mohawk. "And I'm not a Sergeant. Nik told me you had a double bed and an empty house, me stuff's in the car." "... what?" "I quit when Nik told me what happened to you. Needed a couple of"

"... I couldn't." "You stupid man." Soap let himself in-- Price didn't try to stop him. Johnny hugged him. Price hugged back. They stood there for seconds, minutes, hours, Price didn't care. All that mattered was that Johnny was back in his arms-- and if this was a dream, it was the best

It was around the time Mac usually visited. "Mac, nice of you to finally arr-- Soap." Price stood there, dumbfounded, at the sight of his former lover and Sergeant standing at the door with... were those /flowers/? "Nik told me what happened. Fuck, Price, why didn't you just /say/ something?"

Price was volunteering now, at least. Finding a job was a struggle when you were still fighting demons every waking moment, but he was managing. He was outside tending to his garden when he heard the knock on the front door. Groaning, he rose to his feet and wiped his dirty hands on his apron.

Mac had actually visited, too. Several times out of the blue. Forced Price to eat and staying in the spare room a couple of days every few weeks. Price was grateful for the old man. Even Nik had managed a visit or two, turning up as and when when he found out what happened. Through illegal means.

when Price didn't answerthe first four times. Gaz had sent a cautionary message or two. Ghost, surprisingly, had too. Price blocked his number when he saw the frankly pathetic 'I didn't know this would happen. I'm sorry.' Build a man up and support him long enough so he could tear you down.

Though it was harder adjusting to life without Soap. Usually they stayed together when time off allowed it. He hadn't seen the Scot in three months. Hadn't heard his voice. His laughter. He wondered how he was doing now. Laswell hadn't called him much since the court martial. She probably gave up

when he got home. All he knew is that he had anything he had on base in his car and came to sitting in his driveway with an empty fuel tank. -- Adjusting to civilian life was probably one of the hardest things Price had ever done. In a way, he was glad he only had to do it once.

The entire ground felt as though it was falling out from under him. Dismissal. With Disgrace. After everything he had done for his country. Fraternization was their limit. Despicable. "John Price, do you accept our decision?" "Yes, sir." "You're dismissed." Price doesn't know how or

deliberating on his fate. Price didn't need to be in the room to know what was coming. Court Martials seldom had good outcomes. "With immediate affect, you will be stripped of your title of Captain and have been marked with dismissal with disgrace." /Dismissal with Disgrace./

sliding them into a folder for Laswell to look through later. He would give Soap a good reference for wherever he ended up. He deserved that much (he deserved the world). -- "We've come to a decision, Captain Price." Price stared at the men in front of him. They'd only spent the last half an hour

staring blankly at the wall. His hands felt cold, colder at the fingertips. He wanted a hug. Soap left, understandably angry, and slammed the door behind him. It was better this way. Soap leaving hating Price-- even it it hurt, it was better. Price drafted the transfer papers anyway,

/I'm sorry. I have no choice. I'm so sorry./ "Sergeant--" "Why can't you even fuckin' /look/ at me?" "I need your decision." "You're a fucking cunt, John Price!" Soap stood up quick enough that the chair went screeching behind him. His hands slammed on the desk and Price didn't even flinch,

"/Captain--/" Soap was getting upset-- worse (or better?) he was getting angry. "What's your decision?" "You can't just ask me that when we've been together for years--" "I can have you removed from the 141 in a day. Watch what you say next, Sergeant." "You're bein' a twat!"

Price said, straight to the point with the same detachment as before. His chest squeezed when Soap laughed, "That's not funny." "I'm serious. It's either we stop whatever this is, or I will transfer you from my team." "W-- /What?/ John--" "It's Captain, Sergeant MacTavish. Use it."

Fuck. Price wouldn't be allowed to call him /his/ anymore, would he? Wouldn't be allowed to hold him. To touch him. Kiss him. Tell him that he loved him. Wouldn't be allowed to slide a silver band over his ring finger to show everyone just how much he loved him. "We need to end this."

moving to stand. "Fuck, I was gettin' worried. Nobody's tellin' me what's goin' on an--" "Sit down, Sergeant." Price said softly, pointing to the previously occupied seat. "We have to talk." "Cap?" Soap did as he was told anyway, toeing the line between professional and--

Price moved to the door, a mixture of grateful and furious that Laswell, after 10 years of friendship, didn't even try to stop him leaving. -- When he stepped into his office, he wasn't surprised to see Soap standing by his desk, leg bouncing as he sat in a chair. "John." Soap breathed,

"Ironic, innit? I give them 20 years of my life. I let them point at a target and I follow orders. I shoot men, women and children because they asked me to. Like a good soldier. But the second they find out I'm fucking my Sergeant, then that's the line? I can bomb a hospital but can't love a man?"

careful they had been. Price thought Soap and Ghost were just good friends. Soap thought that, too. Ghost thought otherwise. "It's not like I can do anything about it anyway." Price rose to his feet, stubbing the cigar out in the ashtray. "Price, it's a difficult situation--"