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[ryleigh130]

Could you do something with Gaz being like a protective older brother? (Doesn't have to just be Gaz) Maybe after a mission 141 all go out for drinks and when at a bar someone 'hits on' the reader and is making them uncomfortable so the team step in?

Completely fine if not!!! <333

Have an amazing day/evening/night.

-🚁

Beers & Tears - - ryleigh130

Characters- ghost, cap. price, gaz, and soap

Word Count: 1.7k

Relationships- platonic!gaz & gn! reader, platonic!141 & gn! reader, implied! ghost/soap

Warnings- sexual harassment, alcohol, profanity, pet names, gore (mild), 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself]

Note- first fic in a while let's go! Sorry I’ve been absent for a while. I've been tied up with school but I’m back so let's get this started! As always thank you and I hope you enjoy it!

The evening started off great. You and the other members of the 141 just finished an extremely taxing mission that has left everyone a bit on edge and in need of a break. So, you and the boys decided to have a night out and enjoy a few drinks before the inevitable happens and you get assigned yet another case. 

You now sit across from Gaz and Price watching Soap trying to entice Ghost to go and dance with him. You and Gaz share a knowing look at each other as Soap practically drags Ghost off to the dance floor, all the while Ghost looks like he’d rather be anywhere else then here right now.

“You know, if anyone else other than Soap was trying to get him to dance, he wouldn’t hesitate to put them in an early grave.” Gaz rolls his eyes and gestures to the pair. Price gives him a gentle smack on the back of his head and a stern look, although you can clearly see the affection in his eyes,

“Oh leave ‘em alone you muppet! They deserve to have a good time, especially without you instigating anything” Price scolds while giving Gaz a stern look. You let out a soft chuckle and take a sip from your drink, you’re not a huge drinker but you decided today since you all were celebrating you’d have a few drinks so as not to dampen the mood. You empty the glass and go to stand up,

“Imma grab a refill, be right back” you announce to Price and Gaz, the only indication of them hearing you is Gaz waving his hand and muttering,

“Yeah, uh huh, go ahead [y/n]” before moving back to bicker with Price. Once again you roll your eyes as a gentle smile graces your face and you feel the tension of the last couple of weeks roll off your shoulders, being surrounded by the people you consider family.

You maneuver around the semi-crowded bar, muttering “excuse me’s” and “sorry’s” to anyone who you happened to bump into until you finally arrive at the bar top. You take a seat on one of the stools as you motion to get the bartender’s attention, the bartender nods at you and makes a “one moment” motion, to which you nod and play with the rim of your empty glass whilst waiting. 

Whether it be the alcohol affecting your sense of awareness or just the crowd in general, you jump in surprise when a rough, calloused hand lands on your shoulder that you haven’t seen nor heard coming. You look up and notice a tall, lanky man attached to those hands. The man was around 25-30 years in age, he was tall, thin, had black, slicked back hair, and was dressed in a tailored suit that screamed designer labels and questionable taste. He had an… odor that was hard to describe, but it made you want to puke as it hit your nostrils. Nevertheless, you give the man a polite smile and tilt your head questioningly,

“May I help you, sir?” you practically shuddered as you watched the man’s eyes darken and watch as his mouth opened in a smile that could only be described as predatory.

“Oh I should be the one asking you that” The man purrs, “Wow,” he whistles “Aren’t you a stunning little specimen” you watch out of the corner of your eye as the man shifts closer to you, like a predator trapping its prey. 

Unsure on how to react, you look desperately towards Gaz and Price, but they aren’t looking and you can't catch their eyes. You quickly search the crowd to try and find Soap and Ghost but sigh as you don’t see them anywhere. You turn back towards the man awkwardly and give a shaky, unsure grin, 

“Um… thank you? I- um- sorry but I’m just here to grab a drink before I go back to sit with my friends.” You state firmly. Almost like to prove your point, the bartender walks up to you with a friendly smile,

“Hello, what can I get for you!” you nod towards the bartender and push your empty cup towards him,

“Yes, can I get three fingers of rye?” you ask, watching the man next to you out of the corner of your eye. The bartender nods and heads off to grab your drink, meanwhile the man next to you butts in once again,

“I’m Vincent Rossi by the way, but you can call me Vince” The man, Vince, winks at you,

“What’s your name sweetheart?” you cringe at the name but before you can tell the guy to piss off the bartender comes back with your drink and sets it down. You nod thanks and reach into your wallet to pay the man, before you can though, Vince slaps down a few dollars and nods towards you,

“No need love, I’ve got it for you.” you quickly shake your head no,

“I’ve got it. Thanks” you give him an annoyed look but he just shakes his head again and insists. You finally just relent and thank Vince before turning around to go back to your table to meet up with the boys and get away from Vince. Before you can take a step away, Vince grabs your arm roughly and pulls you back,

“Woah there! Where do you think you’re going? I don’t even know your name, beautiful!” You yank your arm out of his grasp and snarl,

“Listen man, I’ve said thank you already but I’m not interested. Sorry dude.” You try to back up again but once again, Vince pulls you back, this time harder. He spits in your ear harshly,

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think you realize how this works. I buy you and drink and you… help me out. If you know what I’m saying.” You push away from him harshly and slap the man across his face sending him tumbling into the bar top, not expecting the hit.

“Oh you FUCKING BITCH!” the man seethes as he rights himself and wipes away the blood running down his face with the back of his hand. A crowd gathers around you two as you back away in slight fear as Vince steps towards you with dangerous intent. Suddenly Vince charges forwards in an attempt to hit you, before you can raise your hands to defend yourself, a large figure steps in front of you and blocks the man. You look up and see Gaz absolutely SEETHING with anger. He’s holding Vince’s wrists and breathing heavily as he looks at him struggling against his grip. 

“Gaz!” you yell out in relief. Gaz turns his gaze to you and you watch as his eyes soften slightly,

“[y/n], are you ok?” he asks worriedly, before you can respond Vince spits in disgust,

“[y/n]. So that’s the whore’s name. Should’ve known they’ve already have a fuck toy they can play with.” That sets Gaz off. Vince can call him whatever he wants but when it comes to you, or your reputation, he doesn’t play. Gaz kicks the man in the gut and sends him sprawling across the bar’s dirty, wooden floors. When he’s down, Gaz jumps him, he kicks Vince in any spot he can hit all while cursing him out,

“If I EVER catch you talking about MY kid like that again, I’ll kill you! Is that understood!” Gaz yells while stomping Vince’s knee causing a loud POP to echo through the stunned bar. Before Vince could answer, you feel two pairs of gentle hands on your back, leading you outside of the bar. You look up at Soap and Ghost as they guide you through the crowd and outside where a large armored vehicle is waiting. Before the three of you get in, a pissed Gaz and an equally pissed Price come barreling out of the bar doors, Gaz still struggling and spitting out curses as Price shoves him through the doors.

“What the FUCK Price! I wasn’t finished with the bastard!” Gaz snarls, practically foaming out the mouth. Price snaps at Gaz angrily,

“That is ENOUGH soldier! Stand down! I said, STAND DOWN! THAT IS AN ORDER!” Finally, Gaz snaps out of it and starts to calm down slightly, he notices you, Soap, and Ghost staring and rushes forward. He stops and kneels in front of you, grabbing your hands and inspecting you for injuries. When satisfied you aren’t harmed he sighs in relief and wraps his arms around you,

“Oh thank god, are you ok kid?” he asks softly as you wrap your arms around him and drop your head on his shoulder. You nod and sigh softly,

“Thank you” You whisper as his arms tighten around you.

“Of course kiddo, I’d do anything to protect you. Anything.” You smile warmly and let out a little sniffle. Suddenly an awkward cough comes from behind you, you look to see Soap, Price, and Ghost standing near the car doors awkwardly. You roll your eyes and walk forward giving them each a tight hug,

“Yeah, yeah, thank you all too” you chuckle. Your smile widens as Ghost ruffles your hair and Price gives you an affectionate look,

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Soap suggests, you nod and file into the truck one by one. As you look out the window and watch the traffic roll by, you smile as you think about how lucky you are to have been blessed with such amazing friends. No. Family. 

[ryleigh130]

since i just woke up from one and came here to seek comfort and get it out of my head,i had the idea of "why not ask them if they'd like to write such a thing?" So here i am.

The main thing is reader having a really grotesque, explicit and horrific nightmare (that's how most of mine are) could be getting tortured,put in a meat grinder,you get it,work your magic and write as you wish haha.And after they wake up with a heavy and tight chest, horrified naturally,it being out of their control,could you have the 141 members comfort us? Perhaps one way of getting most of their reactions would be setting up a scenario where they had to camp and sleep in the same place, something of the sorts,so yeah.

Honestly still not over the nightmare yet that shit was horrific haha,but yeah,hope this'll be a nice writing for you,if you wish to do so.Take great care of yourself dear,and take as many breaks as you need<3

how the sausage gets made — python333

— — — —

synopsis you have a very graphic nightmare, the 141 comforts you!!!

relationships platonic! 141 & gn! reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 3.2k

warnings nightmare about getting put through a meat grinder (not too graphic, but the imagery is still there), usage of [c/n] (code name/call sign), 2nd person pov (you/yours/youself)

note hi!! this is actually right up my alley, i really enjoyed writing this!! :D hopefully this somewhat comforts you/helps you get over the nightmare, and hopefully this was horrific enough for you!! ALSO i have a discord server now!! enjoy :3

You’re in some sort of freezer, it seems. 

Your vision is a bit blurred at the edges, and your head feels awfully heavy, making it hard to keep upright on your neck. Your shoulders feel tight and tense, as though the muscles in them were physically bundled and tied into tight knots. Though, they aren’t tense in the way they typically are. Somewhere in the back of your mind—as your gaze wanders around the blue-tinted room you lay in—you can recall times after sparring sessions with a few of your teammates when your shoulders felt tight, and it was nothing like this. Those times, you could feel the knots as though they grew roots from your shoulders to your wrists. Unlike now, your shoulders feel lighter than those times. 

Those times. You aren’t sure what “those times” refers to. All you can see and think about is the light blue tiling of the ceiling above you. It’s strange; you’ve only seen tiling like that on dingy bathroom floors in the public gym you used to go to. It’s never been on the ceiling like that. Huh. 

You can’t really feel your hands, which is even stranger. You know where they are—they’re right at your sides, laying on the stingingly cold concrete floor of whatever room you’re in—and can hear the echoing taps they give whenever you lift and hit them lightly against the floor, but yet they feel numb. You move one of them, not nearly as off-put by the numbness as you should be, and lift it up and over your face. It looks normal. No, yeah, that’s my hand alright. Don’t know what I expected. 

You put the hand back on the ground and using both hands you push yourself up from the floor, letting out a small grunt as you do. It takes an uncanny amount of force to push yourself upwards, but you manage to do so anyway, and you finally have a look at the room around you. You look ahead of you. Blue tarp. It’s shiny and almost looks woven, and if you squint your eyes enough, it looks grainy. You look to your left. More blue tarp. It’s of the same quality, the same quantity, and is in all aspects the exact same as the other blue tarp. You make a quick prediction before looking to your right, and, lo and behold, another blue tarp. How shocking. 

It looks the same as the other two. Frowning, you look behind you, and surprisingly you are not met with yet another blue tarp. This time, there’s a large, shiny, stainless steel machine behind you. It’s a good ten feet away, about the same distance away as the tarps, and for some reason it beckons to you. Like Princess Aurora to her spinning wheel, you find the strength to push yourself up to your feet completely, and immediately you begin walking towards the metal machine without much resistance. 

It doesn’t really hit you that you have no idea what this machine is or what it does. You don’t think you’ve seen anything like it. As you get closer, you can see a few items strung from the ceiling past the machine; weird plastic-clear looking tubes that are linked together in the same way clowns at parties twist balloons, and there’s iron-cast skillets hung on the ceiling from invisible hooks. Huh. Weird. Despite the oddities of the items strung from the ceiling, you keep walking towards the machine. 

When you get even closer, the machine becomes less blurred and comes more into focus. It looks completely untouched. There’s a large funnel at the top, one that requires a ladder to get to—conveniently, there’s a ladder set up on and welded to the machine itself—and beneath that is a horizontal tube that tapers off into a smaller, funnel-like shape at the end with a much smaller opening. You tilt your head curiously at the machine. It’s so shiny. Though, the longer you stare at it, the grainier it gets. 

Suddenly, cutting through your thoughts, you feel a harsh push at your back that almost has you knocking into the machine. Before you can even turn around to see who felt that they had the audacity to push you so harshly, that same entity that pushed you quickly lifted you into the air. Whatever they’re using to hold you up feels like absolutely nothing—as if they were just gathering enough air molecules to swoop you up. 

“H—” You try to protest, but your throat doesn’t work. Before you can say anything, it just gives out, and leaves you wheezing for a moment before trying again only to discover that, to your horror, you cannot talk. 

Your throat seems to close up every time you try to say anything. All that comes out are breathy wheezes and coughs that leave a strangely bad pain in your chest. As you try to stop your coughing, whatever is picking you up quickly dumps you into the large funnel on top of the machine. It’s cold and bites at your skin unforgivingly, making you hiss in discomfort. You don’t even clock how the cold is irritating your skin, despite you being fully clothed and none of your bare skin being exposed to the metal of the machine. 

You try to move your hands to the sides of the funnel to push yourself up, but you move at a painfully slow speed, and can’t do anything but stand still. Like a mannequin, you’re forced into a standing position and can’t do anything but stand in the funnel. You look down, and you’re standing on what seems to be some sort of cylinder. The bottom of the funnel ends around your mid-calf. 

Oddly, this reminds you of those nightmares you used to have when you were younger, where you were running from something or someone but moved too slow to get away. 

Suddenly, the cylinder begins to move. 

It spirals in place, making you quickly lose your balance and soon you’ve fallen in a lying position on the cylinder as it turns. It starts at a slow pace but starts to speed up, in time with your panic. You try to scramble to your feet but your limbs don’t allow it, keeping you stuck in place, the cylinder starting to turn even faster. 

You’re uncomfortably folded and pushed through the small ending of the funnel as the cylinder keeps moving, and once you’re through, you start to hear a strange whirring. 

It’s loud and sounds like some sort of shitty metal fan. It clangs against the sides of whatever tube you’re in and occasionally makes a horrible screeching noise that, if you could, you would cover your ears to escape. You turn your head to the side ever-so-slightly and see the “metal fan” itself—four sharp blades that spin clockwise, with a weird hole-filled circle behind them. You furrow—or, well, try to at least—your eyebrows at the sight. 

The fuck is that? You don’t realize you’re getting closer to it. 

The cylinder is now turning at an exceptionally fast pace, and only when you’re a few feet from the blades do you realize just how close you are to them. 

“Wait—” You finally find your voice, though it sounds far away and is muddy in your ears, “Stop, stop—” 

You’re not sure what else to say. You can’t tell if you’re begging, commanding, demanding, or anything of the sort. All you know is that the cylinder is going faster and faster, at an almost punishing pace that leaves you wondering what you could’ve done to deserve whatever the hell is happening to you. The blades emit an ungodly screech each time they get caught on a bump on the insides of the tube, and as you get even closer you can spot bright orange rust on the blades. 

The texture is enough to make you gag. You’re getting closer, and closer, and soon you’re barely a foot away from it. The screeching and the whirring is so loud. You can’t hear anything else—or, wouldn’t be able to hear anything else, if there was anything else to be heard. 

You can barely continue your train of thought before you feel a sharp, cold rush through your ankle. 

You hadn’t been paying enough attention. You didn’t realize how close your feet had gotten to the blades. 

The sound it had made when it was cut off was sickening. A loud pop, the same kind of pop that sounds when you break open the tab of a can. You open your mouth to scream but nothing comes out, and suddenly the rest of your leg is getting shredded by those same blades, and dear God, it’s so cold. It feels like dry ice cutting right through your calves, making its way up to your knees, soon to your thighs, much faster than you can process. 

Your thoughts come in small fleets that go as soon as they come and you’re never able to continue or dwell on a single one, always getting interrupted by the white-cold pain that literally cuts through your upper thighs. You can’t feel anything from the waist down. You can’t feel your legs, your feet, and you’re losing feeling in your hips—

Your hands desperately grasp at the cylinder, and you’re not sure what you’re doing but you’re trying to do something, anything, as long as it delays the inevitable shredding of your torso and head. But it doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t. Whatever you had intended to do doesn’t work, and soon there’s a sharp cold pain that cuts into your ribcage, and suddenly you can’t even feel your stomach. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you can recognize the small sobs that escape you. 

Your chest is the next to go, and soon it’s your shoulders, and even though they’re not gone yet your hands have already gone numb, and you’re bracing yourself for the sharp-cold pain to reach your neck when suddenly—

You wake up, body immediately getting into an upright sitting position and your chest heaving as sweat drips down your forehead. The sweat is cold and your breathing is loud in your ears, your ears which are filled with ringing, the sound of just anything enough to make your breath hitch and a sob crawl into your throat. With open-mouthed pants, you blink rapidly at the space in front of you, before quickly raising your hands to your face and letting out a loud, shaky sigh when you can actually feel the air moving through your fingers. 

They aren’t numb. You plant them on the ground and just feel around, the rough fabric of your tent gliding under your hands. You shake your head vigorously, letting out another relieved sigh when you find that it’s still attached to your neck and hasn’t been sliced through. You move your legs and they’re still attached to your body. Everything is still on you. You’re in the same clothes you went to sleep in. You have all of your body parts. You are in one piece. Nothing is missing. You’re fine. 

Despite repeating to yourself that everything’s okay—you’re physically together, you’re in a tent in the middle of the fucking woods and the worst thing that could happen to you is getting jumped by a bear in your sleep—nothing feels okay. There’s still the phantom feeling of getting put through a meat grinder that keeps a perpetual tremble in your bones, that keeps you unknowing of how to act like you’re in one piece. Not act. You are in one piece. But you aren’t. You swear, even though it was just some stupid dream, that it felt real enough to have actually happened. 

“[c/n]?” Soap’s tired voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Right. We’re sharing a tent. You quickly whip your head to look at him, chest still rising up and down rapidly as your unstable breathing continues. You don’t say anything, simply staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Are ye alright?” He frowns, quickly growing more awake the more concerned he gets, “Whit’s wrong?” 

Maybe you’re in some form of shock, but you find yourself staying silent out of the fear of something happening. You’re not sure what that ‘something’ is, but it’s there, and it’s holding you back from even attempting to speak. Your breath hitches and your throat stings. 

“Hey, uh,” Soap pushes himself up with a grunt and walks over a short few steps to you, kneeling down once he’s beside you, “Jist breathe, everything’s gonnae be alright.”

You know he’s not exactly the best at comforting people. He’s always been better with more technical things, and would much rather help you with math homework or something over trying to comfort you after something traumatic. It’s not that he doesn’t want to—of course he does, and he wishes he was much better than he is now at it—but he can never manage to find the right words. 

He puts a tentative hand on your shoulder and you stare at it as it reaches you, flinching back immediately when you can actually feel his hand over your shirt. He pulls his hand back instantly, expression growing even more concerned. 

“Do ye wannae tell me whit happened?” Soap whisper-asks. When you quickly shake your head ‘no’, Soap thinks for a moment before offering, “Do ye want me tae get onyone else?” 

You think about his words for a moment before nodding. He sighs. 

“Who?” 

Your gaze flickers from the exit of the tent before going back to Soap.

“… Cap’n Price,” You quietly decide. Soap nods and reluctantly gets up, making his way out of the tent. 

A few minutes later, you hear Soap walk back into the tent as well as another set of feet that trail right behind him. You look up and over at the entrance of the tent and see your Captain. His eyes are immediately on you, and as soon as he sees the mystified look in your eyes, he’s quick to make his way to you and kneel down beside you. 

He doesn’t know what to say for a moment, you can tell. He instinctively brings a hand up to put on your shoulder like he typically would in situations like these, but something causes him to bring his hand back down and away from you. Maybe Soap told him how you reacted earlier? You brush off the thought for now, more focused on whatever Price is trying to do. 

The reason you wanted him here instead of the others was mainly because you felt the least embarrassed around him. Which was weird, considering that he’s of the highest rank compared to you and the others, but still—you can’t imagine him judging you, not even for the most outrageous things. Maybe he’d have a small fit over you saying “soccer” instead of “football”, but otherwise, you can’t think of a world where he judges you for something like having a nightmare. 

And sure, the others have them too and probably wouldn’t judge you either, but still. Price will probably always be your first option for situations like these. 

“Soap hadn’t told me what happened, yet,” Price says softly, “D’you mind filling me in?” 

If this were anyone else, you’d be fighting the urge to jump off a cliff, but because it’s not, you simply answer, “Nightmare.” 

Your voice is a little clearer now, much to your relief, but it still carries that rasp from earlier. It doesn’t pain you to talk, but it does shock you that you even can, considering that you could barely form a whisper in your nightmare. And yes, that’s a silly thought, knowing that all of that was a nightmare, but you couldn’t care less about that right now.

“A nightmare, alright,” Price hums, before suggesting, “My tent’s bigger than yours, y’know. You wanna bring your sleeping bag over there, so we’re all together? Power in numbers, yeah?”

 You nod mindlessly, agreeing with anything Price says. He smiles at you and hesitantly puts a hand on your shoulder, doing it slowly enough that you have plenty of time to let him know if it’s not okay, but you allow it. Price shoots a look at Soap and the latter nods, confirming whatever Price’s silent look asked him. 

“Alright,” Price gives your shoulder one last squeeze before standing up, waiting for you to stand up as well. Once you do, he starts to walk out of the tent, expecting you to walk after him. Surprisingly, Soap gets up as well, sleeping bag and pillow in hand. Huh. Maybe that’s what he was confirming. You quickly pick up your sleeping bag and pillow, movements a little more stilted than usual as you didn’t expect to actually be able to move as quickly as you can now, and follow Price out of your tent. 

You shiver as you walk out into the cold outside of the woods, and are quick to walk to the much bigger tent across from yours. 

When you enter the tent, Gaz remains asleep while Ghost almost immediately wakes up. It’s uncanny, the speed at which his eyes open and dart to your figure—as if he was never asleep in the first place. You push those thoughts aside and wait for Price to walk in. 

“Wh’t’s goin’ on?” Ghost asks sleepily, his British accent making his slurred words nearly impossible to decipher. 

“They’re stayin’ in here for the rest of the night,” Price answers for you, nodding over to you as he refers to you. 

Ghost looks over at you and you can sense his raised eyebrow despite not being able to see it. You look to Price to explain your situation for you again, and once he sees you look at him, he explains, “Nightmare.” 

Ghost blinks before nodding understandably. Almost immediately, he conks out and goes right back to sleeping like the dead, making Price snort. Price turns to you, and gestures towards the empty spot next to Gaz, the spot conveniently empty and just perfectly sized for your sleeping bag. You walk over there as quietly as you can, shuffling around Ghost’s and Price’s sleeping bags, and gently lay your sleeping bag down next to Gaz’s. 

You set down your pillow inside of the sleeping bag and kneel down as quietly as you can, a soft rustling sounding from your sleeping bag as you settle in. You turn on your side and let out a quiet sigh, eyelids already drooping with exhaustion. You’ve turned towards Gaz, and he’s turned towards you, and you look over his sleeping face for a moment before deciding to catch up on your own rest. 

Just as you’re about to close your eyes, you watch his open. 

“...” He stares at you for a moment, before he sleepily whispers, “Hey.” 

“Hi.” 

“… Y’good?” He asks, looking at your still-glassy eyes and very-clearly-worn-out expression. 

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” You answer, trying to offer a tiny bit of reassurance. 

“Alright,” Gaz hums, accepting your answer easily, and closing his eyes once again. 

A small smile graces your lips. You’re all used to going to sleep easily, of course, on missions like these—you kind of need to be, given that you’re all military. It took you a bit, but you eventually got used to it, and gained that skill just a few months after joining the task force. 

Speaking of which, you find yourself drifting off to sleep not long after Gaz closes his eyes again, and soon enough, you’ve already fallen asleep—this time, without nightmares or dreams.

[ryleigh130]

Okay, I wanna request something sweet and lighthearted since there has been angst in all of them so far 😭

So here is it: ghost with a young reader who's new to the team and cleary looks up to him a lot. Like, starryeyed expression when he kills someone in a "badass way", tries to do things the way he does, is quick to question other people but when he tells them something it's just "got it" and takes it for a fact, follows all his orders immediately, etc

They basically act like a kid around their idol, idk XD platonic of course

Little Duckling - - ryleigh130

Characters- ghost, mentioned: cap. price, gaz, and soap

Word Count: 1k

Relationships- platonic!ghost & gn! reader

Warnings- profanity, pet names, 3rd person pov, usage of c/n [code name/call sign]

Note- Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy it! Prob a little OOC but I tried ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Also I HATE the ending so we can just ignore that but I literally had no clue how to end it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Task Force 141 operated in the shadows, a clandestine unit of elite soldiers executing covert missions with lethal precision. Among them was you, [c/n]. You’re the newcomer to the team with a solid reputation after graduating top of your class for your stealth and deadly accuracy. But, with being the newbie on the team it left you feeling lost and little loney. The team made sure you felt welcomed but even so, you still felt out of place in the big leagues with some soldiers being almost twice your age. You yearned for a connection, a friend, someone who you could share your woes with, a soul in the unforgiving world of warfare.

You had joined the task force with a singular purpose - to prove yourself. You had trained relentlessly, honing your skills to perfection, but the weight of expectation bore heavily on your shoulders. Surrounded by seasoned veterans, each with their own tales of heroism and glory, you felt like a mere shadow in comparison.

But amidst the sea of faces, there was one who stood out - Ghost, the enigmatic figure cloaked in mystery and intrigue. From the moment you set foot in the base, you were captivated by him, drawn to his aura of quiet strength and unwavering resolve. Where others would turn away, you would draw nearer. You couldn’t explain it but to you, Ghost radiated safety and comfort so, you started to seek him out. You began to think of Ghost as more than just a teammate; he was a mentor, a brother almost, a guiding light in the darkness of uncertainty.

Despite your initial standoffish demeanor towards the rest of the team, you found yourself gravitating towards Ghost, seeking his attention like a moth to a flame. You watched him with a mixture of awe and admiration, hanging onto his every word with rapt attention. To you, Ghost was the epitome of everything you aspired to be - skilled, fearless, and utterly unyielding in the face of danger.

It wasn't long before your admiration for Ghost became apparent to the rest of the team. You would often be seen hovering at Ghost's side, offering to assist him with tasks or simply basking in his presence. The others found it amusing, the way you looked up to Ghost with such reverence, they often teased you about it on the strange occasions you weren’t seen with him.

“Well, well, well, look who it is, the little shadow” Gaz would tease with Soap right behind him,

“Where’s Ghost today? You’re usually so far up his ass we barely ever see you!” You responded to these comments with a simple eye roll and a classy middle finger, to which they would reply by laughing. Captain Price would even sometimes make little comment on your infatuation with the lieutenant,

“There’s the little duckling, is Ghost near I’ve been looking for him?”

Ghost, for his part, was initially taken aback by your adoration. Used to operating in the shadows, he was unaccustomed to being the object of someone's admiration. But there was something genuine about your reverence that touched him, a purity of spirit that he couldn't help but admire.

Over time, Ghost began to warm to you, offering guidance and encouragement whenever you sought it and occasionally referring to you as “duckling” in a somewhat affectionate manner. He saw potential in you, a spark of brilliance that only needed to be nurtured to flourish. And so, he took you under his wing, teaching you the tricks of the trade and imparting his wisdom with a patience born of experience.

Your bond deepened with each passing mission, forged in the crucible of conflict and tempered by the fires of adversity. You looked to Ghost not just as a mentor, but as a confidant, a trusted ally in a world fraught with uncertainty. And Ghost, in turn, found solace in your unwavering loyalty, a beacon of light in the darkness that surrounded them. You both might not have noticed, but you have each helped heal something inside both of you. Together you work each day to heal the past inside both of you and overcome the challenges the day presents you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[ryleigh130]

Hi!! OMG I LOVE your writing sm- it's so cute and your such a good writer 😭❤️

But..if you want to- I have a request

Do you think you could write some angst like Platonic!141 x reader who goes MIA for weeks-( they suddenly go radio silent on the comms and when they check their last known area they find the mic and dog tags, maybe?) And then one of the 141 members just taking a stroll around base runs into the passed out bloody and bruised body of c/n. They just crawled their way back to them lol?(GOD THIS IS SO CRINGY BUT I NEED SOME HURT/COMFORT PLATONIC FICS)

Lost but Found - - ryleigh130

Characters- cap. price, gaz, soap, and ghost Word Count: 1.7k Relationships- platonic!141 & gn! reader Warnings- profanity, gore, death, 3rd person pov, usage of c/n [code name/call sign], usage of y/n [your name], usage of l/n [last name] Note- Thank you so much for the request! I was a little unsure on how/where to take this but I hope you like it nonetheless! <33

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The air was thick with tension as the Task Force 141 prepared for their next mission. [c/n] stood among their comrades, checking their gear one last time before the briefing began. Captain Price stood at the front of the room, his gravelly voice commanding the attention of everyone present.

"We've received intel on a high-value target in the heart of enemy territory. [c/n], you'll be leading the extraction team. It's a routine mission, but stay sharp. We can't afford any mistakes."

[c/n] nodded, their heart pounding with anticipation. They were confident in their abilities, but there was always a lingering sense of uncertainty before heading into the unknown.

The mission started smoothly enough. [c/n]'s team moved through the shadows, swiftly eliminating any threats in their path with relative ease. But as they approached the target's location, things took a turn for the worse.

[c/n] led their team to the south side of the territory as instructed, but before they could settle and prepare for extraction, a squadron of what had to be 50 enemy soldiers rained down on [c/n] and their team.

“It’s an ambush! Everyone take cover! Pick them off the best you can, do NOT let the target get away!” [c/n]’s voice rings through the heavy firing of guns causing the team to fall back and go on defense.

The sudden ambush was a shock to the system, catching [c/n] and the rest of the team off guard. The air crackled with tension as enemy forces swarmed in from all directions, their weapons trained on the small team. [c/n]'s heart raced as adrenaline surged through their veins, their training kicking in as they fought for survival.

Bullets flew, filling the air with deadly intent. [c/n] moved with practiced precision, taking down enemy after enemy, but it was a losing battle. The enemy seemed to have the advantage, their numbers overwhelming the task force's defenses.

Amidst the chaos, [c/n] found themselves separated from the rest of the team. Panic threatened to consume them as they realized the gravity of the situation. Surrounded on all sides, with no backup in sight, [c/n] fought with everything they had, desperation lending strength to their limbs.

But it wasn't enough.

A hail of gunfire echoed in the narrow confines of the battlefield, each shot a reminder of the precariousness of their situation. [c/n]'s movements became more frantic as they dodged incoming fire, their senses heightened in the face of imminent danger.

The last thing [c/n] remembered was the deafening sound of gunfire ringing in their ears, the smell of gunpowder hanging heavy in the air. Then, darkness descended like a suffocating blanket, enveloping them in its embrace.

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"[c/n], come in! [c/n], do you copy?" Soap's voice crackled over the comms, the urgency and worry palpable in every word. After not hearing [c/n]’s affirmation of arriving at the extraction point, the members of the 141 quickly grew worried. Their worry only amplified when their check ups elicit no response from the young soldier. The silence was like an empty void echoing back at them; a mocking reminder of their dire situation.

Panic clawed at Ghost's chest the longer the silence continued, a suffocating grip that threatened to overwhelm him. He tried to call out once again, desperation lacing his words. "[c/n], this is Ghost. Respond, damn it!"

But still, there was nothing. The silence stretched on, an agonizing eternity filled with unanswered questions and unspoken fears. The 141's mind raced, a thousand possibilities flickering through their heads like shards of shattered glass.

Had [c/n] been captured? Injured? Lost in the chaos of battle? Gaz clenched his fists, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like liquid fire.

"Come on, [y/n]," Gaz muttered under his breath, a fervent prayer to the gods of war. "Don't you dare leave us hanging like this."

But the silence remained, unyielding and absolute. And in that moment, they knew with a sinking heart that their comrade was in grave danger.

“We need to go and find them!” Soap voiced, his tone shaky with clear worry.

“We can’t and you know it Soap, I’m sorry but the mission always comes first. We can’t ignore that, even for the kid.” Price’s strong voice sounds as he authoritatively commands his men. Although they didn’t like it, they all knew he was right and they couldn’t go and find [c/n], at least not until after they successfully completed the mission.

With a new purpose, the team fought with more determination and vigor than ever before. They successfully extracted the target with relative ease, but they still haven't heard from [c/n] or their team which worried them beyond belief. Once they safely situated the target, the 141, consisting of Captain Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz, raced towards [c/n]’s last known location.

What they saw shocked them.

Blood covered every inch of the location the team was sent to. Both enemy and allies alike laid dead, bodies still warm, bleeding out. The team split up, quickly scouring the bodies laid before them. They spent what felt like hours looking through the gruesome scene to find their lost teammate but no luck, until suddenly Gaz speaks up,

“Uh guys?” The three whip their heads around to face the young sergeant whose voice shakes with despair. In his hands he holds the dirty, tarnished tags of [y/n] “[c/n]” [l/n].

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Weeks passed with no sign of [c/n]. The 141 was forced to leave the site, even though they longed to search for any other signs of you. The base was consumed by a somber atmosphere as worry gnawed at the hearts of their comrades. Captain Price refused to give up hope, organizing search missions and interrogating captured enemies for any leads.

Soap paced back and forth in the barracks, his mind filled with thoughts of his missing friend. He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that weighed heavily on his shoulders. If only he had been there, maybe things would have turned out differently.

A step of heavy footsteps approach Soap and a large, gentle hand finds its place on his shoulder. Turning around, Soap meets Ghost’s tired gaze,

“You’re exhausted Johnny, get some rest. You’re doing them no good by running yourself dry like this.” Soap stubbornly shakes his head,

“"Ye dinnae understand, if ah wis jist there, ah could've…" Ghost holds up his hand effectively shutting Soap up.

“Stop. This is not your fault, there is no way we could’ve predicted this would happen. I miss the kid too, it’s not the same without them but you can’t keep doing this to yourself. We will find them, but we have to keep it together too. For [c/n]” Ghost’s eyes crinkle slightly from under the mask, indicating a smile. Soap smiles back and nods determinedly,

“For [c/n]” The two head off towards the meeting room where the entirety of the base is currently situated in order to find [c/n].

A sense of urgency filled the room as the Task Force mobilized, determined to bring their missing comrade home. Every moment felt like an eternity as they scoured the countryside, following any lead that might lead them to [c/n]

Days turned into weeks, and still, there was no sign of [c/n]. The weight of uncertainty hung heavy in the air, threatening to suffocate them all.

But then, just when they were on the brink of losing hope, a miracle occurred.

It was a crisp morning when Gaz decided to take a walk to clear his head. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm glow over the landscape. As he walked, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

His instincts kicked into overdrive as he scanned his surroundings, searching for any sign of danger. And then he saw it—a figure stumbling through the trees, bloodied and bruised, but unmistakably alive.

"[y/n]!" Gaz shouted, racing towards them with tears of relief streaming down his face. "What the fuck!"

[c/n] collapsed into Gaz' arms, their body trembling with exhaustion and pain. Gaz held them close, whispering words of comfort as tears of joy mingled with the blood and dirt on their cheeks.

"We thought we lost you," Gaz choked out, his voice thick with emotion. He quickly helped [c/n] get onto theri unsteady feet and led them back towards base.

[c/n] looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of their lips. "Please, you guys have no confidence in me."

As the two of you approached the base soldiers filed out of the barracks to see both [c/n] and Gaz stumble into the small clearing. A sudden shout draws their attention and before they know it, Soap is practically tackling the pair to the ground, tears streaming down his face.

“Laddie, ye're back! Whit the hell happened tae ye?” Before [c/n] could answer, two more pairs of arms joined the hug. [c/n] looks up to see the large figures of Price and Ghost embracing them in shock.

“Funny story actually. I was the last one in the team standing and there were still too many enemies for me to overpower so, I crawled into some kind of animal den. I didn’t come out until I was sure everyone was gone. My radio broke so I couldn't contact you guys, m’sorry.” [c/n] finished their sentence sadly, bowing their head and staring at their feet. A gentle hand lifted [c/n]’s face to meet their eyes. Price stared back with a soft look on his face,

“Kiddo, we’re just glad you’re ok. We’re so, so, so sorry we couldn’t find you.” [c/n] smiled softly, their eyes shown with exhaustion but pride as they embrace the men they consider family,

“It’s okay. I know you guys tried.” The others nodded vigorously causing [c/n] to let out a soft chuckle.

In that moment, as the sun rose higher in the sky, casting its warm embrace over them, they knew that everything would be okay. For they had faced the darkness together and emerged stronger than ever before.

[ryleigh130]

Nightmares - - ryleigh130

Summary- reader has a nightmare, Price finds them and helps.

Characters- cap. price, mentioned gaz, ghost and soap

Word count- 1.5k

Relationships- platonic!cap. price & gn!reader.

Warnings- gore, death, throw up, profanity, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

Note- Thank you all so much for the support I got on my last post! If you enjoy this fanfic then go and check out my other post! As always if any of you would like to have a specific prompt be written about, feel free to message me! That’s all, enjoy!! <33

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Gunshots echo around the clearing. You whip your head around, panting with effort as the gear you're carrying drags you further and further down. Every step is a struggle; it feels like you're carrying the weight of 4 grown soldiers on your back. Your legs burn like fire as you try to continue taking steps. You're exhausted. Still, you can't stop; you have to make it back to the others, no matter the cost.

After what felt like an eternity you finally make it out of the clearing, the sounds of gunshots still linger as you now make your way towards the exfil point to meet with the others.

The metallic smell of fresh blood immediately hits your nostrils as you approach the exfil point. With the last bit of strength you have you rush forward, praying you’re not too late and that you can save them.

You’re too late.

The sight in front of you makes you want to puke. The bodies of your teammates, no, your family, lay before you - bloody, beaten, and dead. You rush forward, tears streaming down your face, and drop to your knees in front of Gaz. Your hand hovers over his dead body, unsure of where to touch. You look to your right and see Soap’s unseeing eyes, with blood still pouring out from the wounds littering his face, neck and torso. You can't move, you can't think, you can't do anything except stare at the horrors before you. Your heart aches with every beat, each second feels like an eternity. The smell of blood and death is overwhelming, making you dizzy and nauseous. You want to scream, but your voice is lost. You want to run, but your legs won’t move. All you can do is sit there, in the midst of the carnage, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on you.

You hear rather than feel a presence behind you. Whipping your head around, you let out a pitiful sob at the sight. Ghost. Except, it wasn't the Ghost you knew and loved. This Ghost was staring at you with such hatred in his eyes that it made you feel sick all over again. This Ghost had blood covering him from head to toe, his mask was half torn, giving the world a view of his usually mysterious face. The sheer terror and hatred in his eyes left you frozen, unable to move or say anything. You just stared back at him, tears burning your eyes as they spilled down your cheeks.

Wordlessly, he unholstered the gun he had on his left thigh and raised it to your head.

“N-no p-please!” You stutter out, terrified. Your begging seemed to have no effect on him as he slowly, took the safety off the gun and cocked it.

“PLEASE! Please, Simon I’-“ a shot rings out.

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"PLEASE!" You feel your eyes fly open, and you throw yourself out of bed, half tripping on the blankets tangled around you. You make a run towards the bathroom, and you make it just in time as you start dry heaving into the toilet, emptying your guts from everything you ingested in the last 24 hours. Tears stream down your face as you rest your hot head on the cool surface of the toilet. You wipe your mouth, flush, and shakily get up to rinse your mouth out to get rid of that disgusting acidy taste.

You let in a shaky breath as you give yourself a good look in the mirror. Your eyes are bloodshot, you have dark bags under your eyes, and tear stain tracks running down your face. In short, you look like ass.

You run a hand through your hair and take a peak at the clock on your nightstand: 3:00 AM. You sigh, you know there is no way you’re going to be able to get back to sleep so instead, you decide to get a quick drink of water from the kitchen.

You walk unsteadily down the hall towards the kitchen where you grab a glass and fill it to the brim with water. You take the glass and chug the entirety of it, you then go to repeat the process. Before you could finish the second cup of water, a quiet voice startles you.

“[c/n]? What are you doing awake?” You turn around and stare like a deer in headlights at Captain Price, who has his arms crossed staring at you with a slightly concerned look. His concerned look deepens when he sees the state you’re in and in a second he’s across the room, gently holding you by the shoulders looking at your face.

“Woah kiddo, what’s wrong?” He asks worriedly. You shake your head and give him a small smile,

“S’nothing. Just needed a drink of water.” Price gives you an unimpressed look as he gently cups your cheek in his hand and wipes away the dried tears with his thumb.

“Yeah?Is that why you have these? And why you look like zombie, walking around here at 3 in the morning?” His tone is light but you can detect the seriousness in his words. You sigh and lean into his touch dejectedly,

“I… had a nightmare.” You look down at Price’s feet, not wanting to meet his searching eyes. Shame burns at your ears and neck as you admit to your Captain you can’t sleep because of a small nightmare. Before you could apologize and make your way back to your room, Price gently lifts your head up with his hand and gives you a firm look.

“Hey” he says firmly, “there is nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone has nightmares; I do, you do, the others do, it is nothing to be embarrassed of, you hear me?” You met his eyes nervously but you see nothing in his face that would contradict his words. In fact, Price is looking at you with such soft and gentle eyes he looks almost affectionate.

You shake your head and look away quickly, the memory of you failing everyone, including Price, still haunts you. You don’t want to fail these people, you don’t want to ruin the one good family you have ever had. You know it’s only a matter of time before you do and by then they’ll probably be sick of you anyway but-

Price cuts off your spiraling thoughts with a gentle touch to your shoulder,

“Do you want to talk about it?” The question catches you off guard and has you fumbling with a response. After a few seconds of hesitation you nod. Price gives you yet another soft look before he nods and motions you to follow him. You follow him down the hall, out of the kitchen and towards his room. He opens the door gently and closes it softly behind you, he then motions you to sit down.

You take a hesitant seat on the bed, you pull your knees up to your chest and hug them. You feel the bed dip and Price sits next to you, he puts his arm around you and pulls you down so you’re lying with your head on his chest. You both sit in silence for a while before you get the courage to speak,

“You should just get rid of me now.” You feel Price jerk as you speak, but before he could protest you continue.

“I’m just gonna let you guys down, I’m not like you guys. I’m not strong like Ghost, or smart like Soap, I’m not nearly as quick witted as Gaz and I’m certainly nothing like you. All my flaws are gonna get one of you lot killed, and I can’t be the cause of that. I just can’t.” You finish off your rant with a shaky breath as the tears threaten to fall from your eyes once again. Before you could process it, you feel Price drag you into a bone crushing hug. You feel a quick kiss pressed to your head.

“Quit it. You are so important to us, to the team, you hear me? You are brilliant on and off the field, you could never and I mean NEVER let us down. So we are sure as hell are not getting rid of you, do I make myself clear?” Price asks firmly, you open your mouth to protest.

“But-“

“Ah! No buts! Kid, you are so important to us, to me. We wouldn’t be able to survive without you around, you are so strong, and smart, and kind. Without you, I honestly think we’d go crazy! Plus, who would we have to drive Gaz crazy?” Price looks at you with bright, teasing eyes. You crack a small smile,

“Soap” you say simply. Price lets out a small chuckle, he drags you closer to him and you lay your head back on his chest.

“That’s true. But still, it wouldn’t be the same.” He gently rubs small circles on your back causing you to start to drift off. After a few minutes you’re almost completely asleep,

“Cap’n?” You say sleepily. Price chuckles affectionately,

“Yeah kid?” You smile softly,

“Thank you, I love you.” Price’s face lights up with love and admiration as he tightens his grip on you,

“Love you too kid. G’night.” You close your eyes. You have a happy smile on your face as you drift to sleep, and if you wake up cuddled next to your favorite Captain in the morning, well, who’s gonna know?

[ryleigh130]

Frostbite- - - ryleigh130

Summary- reader gets hypothermia on a mission and the boys help warm them up.

Relationships- platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader

Characters- cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

Word count- 2.2k

Warnings- hypothermia, profanity, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

Note- This is my first ever fanfiction written on here so please leave me suggestions on how to improve! This story is inspired by the creator @python333 so go and check out their work it’s absolutely amazing! If you would like to leave a request for me to do a specific prompt feel free to message me! That’s it, thank you and I hope you enjoy! <33

It’s. Fucking. Cold. The three words repeat in your mind over and over again as you consider voicing your complaints to the team for what had to be the 8th time in the last 30 minutes. You couldn’t help it, it was cold. Freezing actually, you and the others were assigned a mission in the middle of butt fuck nowhere Siberia so excuse you for being cold.

To make matters worse for you, you’re the only 141 member currently suffering the biting cold as you were the one who drew the short end of the stick and got put on sniper duty whilst the others get to enjoy the warmth of actually being in the building they’re trying to get the info from.

With that thought, you sigh and shift your position slightly from where you are laying looking through the scope on your M107. It wouldn’t be so bad if you were actually moving around but instead, you’ve been laying in the same position, in the snow, for around 3 hours and you’re starting to loose feeling in your fingers and toes.

“[c/n], how copy” your radio sparks to life as the gruff, British accent of your Captain comes through.

“Still fucking cold, are we almost done here? I’m freezing my balls off out here” you groan, tentatively flexing your fingers trying to spark life back into them.

A low chuckle is heard over the radio as you can practically hear Price roll his eyes from where he is positioned, “you’ve mentioned. But yes, as soon as Soap plants the bombs we should be good to go. How’s it looking Soap?” A clicking can be heard over the radio when suddenly the loud, Scottish voice of John “Soap” MacTavish booms through,

“Aye Cap’n, jist aboot done” you hear another click and a hushed exclaim of victory, “Aw set!” You practically let out a cry of relief at the thought of going back to the safe house and getting warm,

“Took you long enough!” Gaz’ teasing voice pipes up before promptly getting shut up,

“Oh shut it you bawbag” Soap’s voice is light as you hear their footsteps going down the halls to escape the building. You watch through the scope of your rifle making sure to keep an eye out for any rouge enemies that might be hanging around the building the team was gathering the info from. You see Gaz leave the building first, followed by Price and finally Soap. You frown slightly, waiting a few moments before radioing,

“Ghost, how copy” you wait a few seconds before radioing in again, this time sounding more worried, “Ghost, ho-“ before you could finish your sentence, Ghost’s voice, accompanied by the sounds of gunshots filter through

“Solid copy.” He grunts out “I’ve got a few on my tail now but I’m taking care of it” you hear more gunshots as you look through your scope trying to spot Ghost’s form. Suddenly, an alarm rings through the building, you watch as dozens of enemy soldiers flood into the building your team once occupied,

“Fuck Ghost, incoming” you manage to warn before you hear Price’s loud and commanding voice boom,

“Ghost! Get out of there now! We need to detonate this thing now!” You hear Ghost reply with a short grunt. You watch as Ghost’s body runs out from the quickly populating building spraying round after round at accompanying enemies following. You try and help the best you can picking off as many enemies as possible before you hear Soap’s shout,

“CLEAR!” And with that, the building goes up in flames. You duck your head from where you’re positioned to avoid the ash and debris from the burning building,

“All Bravos, how copy?” You hear Price’s voice through the slight ringing of your ears,

A chorus of “Solid, copy”’s respond to the Captain, including your own as you begin to pack your weapon up to head out.

“Brilliant, alright everyone good work. Let’s regroup at the safe house 5 clicks from this position.” A murmur of approvals ring through the coms as you absentmindedly hum your approval and mute your radio. You finish packing up your gear when you hear a twig snap somewhere close by. You perk up and draw your M18 from where it’s positioned in the small holster on your thigh. As quiet as a mouse you sneak through the snowy brush to where the noise originated, peaking through the tree line your heart sinks to the bottom of your stomach as you see a squadron of about 9 soldiers approaching your position.

Fuck me. You practically groan, you know you won’t be able to take them all down at the same time so you do the only sensible option, you run. Expertly navigating through the snowy taiga, you run, duck, and jump over the obstacles in front of you. You can hear the pounding of footsteps behind you and the whizzing of bullets flowing past your body, barely missing their target. You run until your lungs burn and your eyes water from the cold air. You look around seemingly cornered by the enemy soldiers and the barren landscape when you spot it. A frozen over lake and possibly your one chance at survival, without a chance to second guess yourself, you’re running towards the lake. You hear yelling in the distance followed by more gunshots as you continue towards the lake. You reach the shoreline and tentatively put your body weight on the ice, judging by the fact it didn’t immediately crack, you take the risk and start sliding toward the other side. Luckily you are small and light enough to be able to tread across the slippery surface. You look over your shoulder to see the soldiers staring at you and continuing to try and shoot you. Before you could react, a stray bullet embeds into the icy surface and a loud crack and be heard. You look down in terror as the ice begins to crack and splinter. With a new objective in mind, you quicken your pace to the reach the other side of the frozen lake.

It’s too late. You’re about 3/4ths of the way when the ice suddenly relents under your weight and you get plunged into the deep icy depths of the water. The icy water causes your body to immediately freeze and jolt in pain as the below freezing water feels like pins and needles getting pushed into your skin slowly. You sink toward the bottom of the frozen pool before your mind catches up with your body and a gasp of air leaves your mouth. You’re choking on the icy water as you struggle against the cold, slowly and painfully you make your way back towards the surface. Your head emerges from the water first, then followed by your hands as you desperately try and grab onto something to be able to drag yourself out of the water. You can’t get a grip on the slippery surface causing you to gasp and sink back into the water, kicking your feet one final time you propel yourself out of the water and onto the ice. With the last bit of your remaining energy you fling yourself to the safety of solid ground on the other side of the lake.

You lay on the snowy ground shivering violently. You look out at the side of the lake where you came from and notice the soldiers were gone, must’ve thought I was a goner, you think bitterly. You don’t have time to reminisce on it as the wind picks up and reminds you that you are currently shivering, wet, and unable to feel your own body. Weakly, you try and turn on your radio to signal for help. You almost cry when you realize it’s gone, you must’ve lost it when you fell in. Coughing violently, you shakily get on your feet, stumbling once, then twice, you manage to stand and take unsteady steps towards where you assume the safe house should be.

The hike takes longer than it should’ve as you continuously stumbled and fell, taking longer than you care to admit to get back up and continue. It’s around 1700 judging by the just setting sun, when the small cabin comes into view. You almost weep in relief when you see it, you pick up your pace into a small run and, promptly fall down face first into the snow. You lay in the snow no longer shivering as your body begins to shut down, No! Not like this, I’m right there! You feel yourself thinking. You feel as if you hear a noise that resembles a door opening and voices yelling but you chalk that up to your imagination as your vision slowly fades into black. With one last tired breath you close your eyes and let the warmth take over you.

When you wake up, you’re burning, and not in a nice way. You feel as if your skin is on fire and is about to melt off your bones. It hurts, painfully so and you make sure to vocalize your discomfort with a pained screech. You try moving your body away from the burning heat but your muscles won’t respond to your brain so you can do nothing more then just let out pained screeches as tears flow down your face. Faintly you can hear hushed voices trying desperately to soothe you but you’re too out of it to notice. With one last screech you black out, in the back of your head you feel as if you can feel a hand card through your hair.

When you wake up again, the pain is still there but significantly lessened. You can feel yourself lying on what you assume to be a mattress with possibly the fluffiest blanket you’ve ever felt on top of you. You try opening your eyes, the light took adjusting to but after a moment you are able to look around the room where you are laying in. Almost immediately you spot the sleeping form of Captain John Price, he’s leaning back in the old wooden chair he’s on with his mouth open in a soft snore. His hand is laying on your covered leg comfortably, he looks tired and worried like he hasn’t slept in a good while. You look around the room trying to figure out where you are before you make yourself known. With a small clearing of your throat Price violently jerks awake and stares at you for a moment before he moves into action,

“Jesus Christ you’re awake!” He states as he starts to worry over you. He gently takes his hand and puts it over your forehead, frowning at what he feels, he moves toward yours eyes. With a flashlight he checks your eyes and nods once before setting the flashlight back aside. Once he finishes his initial exam, he surges forwards and wraps you in a tight embrace,

“NEVER do that again, you hear me?!” He started firmly, his voice laced with clear worry and concern. You chuckle lowly and rasp out,

“My bad, next time I wanna take a quick dip in the pool I’ll wait until summer.” This obviously was the wrong response as Price fixes you with a firm glare,

“I’m serious [c/n]! Do you have any idea how worried we were! First, you were MIA for 2 hours! Then, you show up DRENCHED in −5 °C weather! And THEN, we find you face down in the bloody snow! [y/n] we thought you were dead!” He scolds. You look down with a light blush of shame tinting your cheeks but before you could apologize, the door slams open causing you and Price to jump. In rushes both Soap and Ghost as they storm over to your bedside. Soap grabs your hand and holds it to his face,

“Steamin Jesus kid, ye gave us quite the scare there.” He says into your palm, Ghost approaches his side and stares at you in worry,

“How are you feeling?” He asks. You open your mouth to respond when suddenly footsteps echo through the hall and Gaz comes barreling into the room.

“[c/n]!” He rushes to your bedside and pulls you into a tight hug,

“Gaz! Quit it! Ye gonna hurt the lad” Soap scolds immediately as Gaz pulls away sheepishly with a muttered apology. You take a moment to gather your thoughts before looking back up at the team you consider family.

“M’sorry” you mutter out, tears threatening to fall, “they- they came so quickly and and I tired to run but I couldn’t lose ‘em so I tried to cross the lake but then they shot at it and I fell in and itwassocold-“ your rambling coming to a stop when a firm hand lands on your shoulder. You look up to see Price, Ghost, Gaz, and Soap staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“Hey, hey kid. It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re safe now” Price soothes gently. “It’s gonna be alright we’re here.” He continues giving you a soft look. You nod looking at your shaking hands when suddenly clothed hands cover your own. You look at Ghost as he warms your still cold hands with his own, you feel a hand in your hair and smile as you lean into Price’s touch. Soap and Gaz bring up a chair next to your bedside and sit close to you, protectively shielding your body from further harm. With the team you consider family so close to you, you give into your quickly tiring eyes and fall into a deep, comfortable sleep.