#platonic soap

[luci4theminorannoyance]

I saw one singular post from you about platonic 141 and immediately followed. You do not understand how much comfort you have bestowed on me. So I'm here to make a request 🤑🤑🤑🔥🔥🔥🔥‼️‼️‼️‼️ What do you think about maybe a younger reader and they wear a mask so no one can see how young they are for security reasons. But on one mission there mask got ripped and the whole team saw they're face. Ever since that mission the team has somewhat soft on the reader. Like in sparring or smth they be a little careful or like whenever reader is off duty, they need to follow reader's every move. NEED TO. Yup that's all, I love yapping as you can see and if your not comfortable with this request pls ignore it. Byee and take care of yourself<33333🥰🥰🥰

a/n: sure! I ❤️ when people yap to me dw, I made it a bit vague so people reading can decide if reader is a minor or just a very young adult, and fully platonic ofc

Ghost:

-on the mission where your mask got torn, he was doing sniper work, he had only seen your face briefly through his scope, but he could pick up how young you looked even from that little detail

-nothing much that was noticeable to the blind eye changed about his treatment in particular, but he slipped you one of his spare masks and when you made little mistakes on your reports and training, he let it slide quite a bit more then usual

price:

-being the fatherly man he was, as soon as he noticed how young you were, he absolutely doted on you. Always made up excuses on why he was giving you extra portions of food or newer gear or whatever he wanted to give you, but everyone knew why in the end

-wanted to keep you safe deep down, but didn’t ever bring it up. Didn’t want you to know he saw, but wanted to know he was there for you.

Gaz:

-certainly was less caring then the others, but just more caring when it came to you, more so then he was for everyone which was saying something. Hid it better then price though

-did some more data hunting through your files and made sure everything was in order for you to not be in trouble if you were caught, with the help of laswell of course. You were his teammate in the end, and he didn’t want you to get into trouble over something as simple as age even though you we’re definitely young to be in the taskforce

soap:

-became a lot more brotherly around you, more teasing and headlocks in the softest most friendly way. It’s just how he always has been, but to the max

-had played a little less jokes on you, and more with you helping him instead since it felt more fair and less like targeting, since he knew it was no longer a perfectly even game of teasing

[the-abyss-of-fandoms]

Ghost is showing new takedown tactics for Task Force 141:

Alright now who would like to volunteer to do this new exercise with me?

Y/N immediately puts their hand up

Soap who is standing next to them immediately put their arm down: Put your hand down Widow.

Ghost catches a glimpse that Soap put his hand up: Alright Johnny your up.

Y/N grumbles mutters under their breath as Soap walks up to Ghost: Lucky…..Ghost Blocker

[boowritess]

part 2 lol

so apparently it's really fucking hard to get into the SAS. and ontop of that I've been getting tiktoks of people going around an army base asking why they joined. most responses were to pay off student loans, bills, school, (someone said there's was 6 years of prison or school and *mental note for idea*), the recruiter lied or spoilt them, barracks bunny.

141 (poly?) x notsobaddasssoldier!reader

and now i can't stop thinking of soldier!reader. who really half-assed their way through everything - only doing the job for the money and to pay off student loans + they had nothing better to do.

who somehow ends up being adopted by Price (kinda like Gaz i guess ???) all because reader happened to be in the right place at the right time and saved Price's ass while managing to complete a mission the Task Force were doing.

and it's not that you saved his ass or completed the mission that makes Price go *this is mine* - it's the fact that afterwards all you can say is-

"this shit is so not worth paying off my student loans."

"oh fuck i forgot to cancel my subscription. fuckk- waste of fucking money"

- all the while a building is burning in front of you but yeah just not at all concerned about what had just happened. so price just *grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you up, claiming you as part of his task force now.*

(lol you probably can't do that irl but this is fiction sooo suck my ass.)

and laswell's just like no... they are very much still green john. way too green. no.

but it's too late. he's already introducing you to the task force. singing your praises and you're just like

"man he promised to pay off my student loans and give me food." basically how ur recruiter got ya ass.

enough said. you get the whole off the books speech, saving the world by doing things others wouldn't like. but u couldn't give a rats ass - you should but nah...

and like... you know you're the rookie... you're still green... but some of the shit 141 do you just...

"so you just gonna kidnap the wife AND the child...? right... kid, you wanna watch bluey? here..."

"and you do this often...? crazy."

but you don't exactly protest. how could you with how much you get paid. you kinda just side-eye and look away when it's geta a lil crazy. *bombastic side-eye*

and the other 141 guys - oh my days. become just as enormed as price and want to start really trying to amplify your skills. but every time, they start explaining how to do things - the best way to go about a situation or how to fight a certain way.

you pull this face. like your top lip pulls back, your eyebrows scrunch together, and there's a slight frown on your lips as they speak. like you look confused/disgusted. but you don't even realise cause-

"why're you pulling that face?" 141

"that's... that's just my focusing face..."

"oh..." 141 feels bad

then when they do take you in feild you're shaking your head no. like you haven't been around that long. what the fuck? now you're bout to infiltrate an enemy base!?!?!

"can i just wait in the car?"

"no." price

"i'm gonna vomit."

"aim at the enemy." ghost

people think that because you're suddenly in this badass task force that surely they're just using you for your assets.

they all think you're the 141 barracks bunny. and maybe you should be pissed or annoyed or grossed out. but all you can do is sigh and pause from the burger price got you, and let out a long exhale.

"fuck... maybe i can just do onlyfans or be a pornstar... shit maybe it's not too late..."

"military is bascially sex work - selling my body..."

"not that different from what i'm doing now. body being used, check. body sore in the strangest places, check."

your tone so empty, blank and nonchalant, but there's a serious look in your eyes that when you grab your phone out to maybe do a little research on how you could do that, your phone is snatched from your hand by one of the guys and they walk out the room without a second look back.

with an annoyed huff, you go back to eating your burger. but suddenly, you turn to the person who genuinely thought you were a barracks bunny.

"hey you think if i be a barracks bunny i get out of missions and shit?"

"...that's not how it works..." rando.

"fuck."

and maybe you try...

like you go to price's office and the guys are already in there, chatting about something that you should really pay attention too but you can't be assed. instead you unashamedly start to speak...

"if i suck ya'll dicks can i get out the mission?"

"no. you still have to join." gaz says amused

"even if you-" *que long sigh from price* "even if you suck our dicks."

"that's fucked up. i should've done porn."

and with the most hurt and broken-hearted look on your face, you leave the office, closing the door with a dramatic sigh. the guys just stare at the door in... confusion, amusement, and maybe arousal if ya'll dig that

idk man just gimmie more soldier!reader who just really ain't the fucked, there for money, lowkey hungry and doesn't know what the fuck is happening. kinda a pet or little sibling energy that the 141 love.

bonus*

"wait so they aren't sucking our dicks?" *soap says getting slapped in the back of the head by ghost

a/n: brain is rottinnggg. i should be doing so much other shit but... cod just consumes my brain 24/7

[incinerated-vestiges]

Smile for the camera!

[princessdimondheart]

Tells | Ghost x Secret Wife! Reader

Pairing: Ghost x f! Reader

Warnings: blood, wounds, pregnancy, 🥺

Edited: No

A/N: I really wanted to do my own take on this idea. Hope you like it.

Masterlist

Character banner ©️ Me

Johnny wasn’t sure how he hadn’t realized it before, after being introduced to his Lieutenant’s wife. There were small, subtle tells that gave away Ghost having a significant other, but he never put the pieces together. Honestly, Johnny was a little upset because he’s in the SAS- he should be able to see things like this. 

The first time he noticed something was strange with Simon was when they were gathering their gear right before going to another mission. They were placing the last of their equipment into their bags. Simon had not put his black skeleton gloves on yet so his wrists were exposed. Johnny didn’t notice anything different until Simon rolled up his sleeves like usual. And there it was. 

A hair tie. 

He didn’t think much about it. Maybe he found it laying around the base. No. That would be weird and there weren’t that many women frequenting the same places as Simon anyways. 

Could he be using it to snap at his wrist when or if he got anxious? Nah.. Ghost stays focused on missions. Johnny doubted Ghost would let anxiety pull a fast one on him in the field. 

Oh! Simon is definitely growing his hair out. Johnny wondered if his balaclava was comfortable with long hair. So he pointed it out. 

“Growing your hair out L.t.?” His lips curled into a little smirk. 

Simon looked up from the full magazine in his hands. Only his eyes gave away his confusion. “No? Why?”

“Your hair tie.” Johnny nodded to his right wrist. “Never took ya for a purple-wearin’ kind of guy, sir.”

Ghost blinked at his Sergeant and then glanced to his aforementioned wrist. Sure enough a bold purple hair tie was bound to his lower arm. Simon was sure he had removed it before leaving home earlier that day. 

“Oh… must have forgot.” Simon spoke absentmindedly. He was remembering his wife. He had gotten home before her and when she came he helped her remove her ponytail, completely forgetting about the hair tie once their kisses got the better of them. 

Simon didn’t say anything else, so Johnny shrugged it off and continued filling his bag with ammunition. Not even two minutes after he forgot what they were talking about when Captain Price called them over. 

~~~~~

The next time something was different with Ghost, Johnny wasn’t even the one who noticed it first. It was Gaz who pointed it out. 

After a long and hard mission, Task Force 141 had finally arrived at base. The team desperately needed showers, so right after hoping off the helicopter everyone went straight to their barracks. 

After their most loved showers everyone went to the mess hall for some real food and not the field MREs they had been eating for the past few weeks. There Kyle had already gotten his portion of food and was digging in. Soap and Price were sitting across from him too, but no Ghost in sight. Simon came in almost halfway through their dinner and sat next to the young Sergeant. The food on his tray was not being eaten. 

That’s when Kyle smelled it. A fruity smell was wafting from the freshly showered SAS powerhouse next to him. Ghost smelled of fresh cut pomegranates and some other fruit notes. It took him by surprise. Kyle would have normally pictured Ghost as a strict standard-issue soap kinda user, not a fruity one. 

“Did they change the regular soaps, sir?” Gaz took the risk. 

Johnny had finished chewing and looked up at his L.t. and Kyle with a questioning look. Then he leaned forward on the table to take a sniff. 

“Is that pomegranate, L.t.?” Johnny chuckled. He’d take any chance to tease his superior. 

Ghost gave them a subtle glare. He had hoped no one would have noticed his mistake. He’d been in a hurry to leave home and well…

“I grabbed the wrong bottle.” He deadpanned then turned to Price, who was shaking his head in disapproval at the two, to ask about any new leads. Clearly, the conversation was over. 

~~~~~

The third time was when their mission went FUBAR. Ghost and Soap had gotten separated from Captain Price and Gaz when their enemies tried to ambush them. In the chaos Soap was shot in the leg, but with Ghost’s help, he was able to escape and hold out until it was safe enough for them to head to the rendezvous point for extraction. 

Now that they were relatively safe, Ghost was searching his packs for supplies to help Johnny with. Johnny wasn’t particularly paying too much attention to what he was doing since he was bleeding out and moaning in pain, but he definitely noticed when Ghost used a tampon to plug the gunshot wound in his thigh. 

“Fuckin’ hells, Ghost! Where’da fuck yous get a bloody tampon from!?”

“It’s an essential tool for survival.” He honestly had no idea how that slipped into his med pouch. Johnny guessed it was so if Ghost had said it. 

~~~~~

Next time they were somewhere in Africa, most definitely melting with the heat. A great bonding experience for the two of them. Their only relief was a slow moving breeze. Soap and Ghost were staking out one of a known terrorist cell’s many compounds. All was quiet for now. 

“Johnny?” Ghost didn’t move from his position, eyes dead on his scope. 

Johnny looked over. “Yeah, L.t.?”

“Once we’re done here, I’m taking you somewhere important. Keep your schedule clear.” Simon’s deep voice sounded out softly. 

“Oh… alright.” He didn’t know what to say. “Okay. Definitely, Simon.” 

He looked back towards the compound. Simon had glanced at that moment to see his little smile. His eyes crinkled. 

~~~~~

True to his word, after their stakeout mission was completed, Simon hauled Johnny into his car and began to drive them to who knows where. All Johnny knew was that the drive took several hours from their base in London to wherever they were in the countryside. 

They were nearly at their destination when Simon pulled them into a long driveway and pressed a button controller on his shade that opened the metal gates. Going through, the road was surrounded by open pastures on both sides. When Johnny looked around more closely he noticed a few horses, and, was that a cow? They were grazing on the lush grass. Was his L.t. taking him to a farm?

“Where are we, sir?” He had to ask. 

“You’ll see, Johnny.” Simon had slowed down so as to not spook any of the animals grazing. 

Two minutes later and the car pulled up to a nice two-story cottage home. It was made from stone and appeared to be like a fairy tale type of house. Johnny quite liked the look of it. He noticed that the lights were on. 

Simon opened the locked door, then took off his skull balaclava. It was clear that he was comfortable enough to forego it. “I called ahead, so dinner should be ready soon.”

Dinner? Who’s made them dinner? Johnny didn’t question him and just nodded. Simon stepped inside, none of the wooden boards squeaked when he walked in them unlike when Johnny stepped on them. His steps alerted the person in the kitchen. A delicious smell was coming out in soft waves. The person poked their head out to see who was there. They weren’t worried because they knew that only Simon had the extra key. 

“I’m home.” Johnny noticed a softness in his voice that he hadn’t heard before. Simon’s large frame was blocking his view of the person. A dog suddenly burst from the kitchen barking at Simon before realizing who he was. It sat down when he started to pet him, his butt wiggling with the fast beat of his tail. Cute. Then the dog, a German shepherd, turned to him and started sniffing him with caution. Johnny let him sniff his hand and after a bit he licked his hand and wagged his tail. Approved. 

“Welcome home, Simon!” The person’s voice was distinctly feminine. Johnny had moved closer to Simon and the kitchen, so when the woman fully came into view he saw her right away. 

She went in for a hug and that’s when Johnny noticed a small, yet significant distance between the two. She was pregnant and her baby belly was making it a little harder to hug her. But that didn’t stop Simon from embracing her as tightly as he could. When her hand came up to rest against Simon’s shoulder, Johnny noticed again the large diamond on her ring finger. 

“L.t.?” The two lovers separated to look at him. 

“Johnny, come meet my wife.” Simon gave him a knowing nod which Johnny instantly returned. 

He almost couldn’t believe it. His L.t. had brought him home to see his little family. Johnny almost choked up upon realizing the significance of Simon trusting him with this information. Right then and there, Johnny gave Simon a mental promise to help keep his family safe, no matter what.

Bonus: 

“Oh! The baby is kicking! Want to feel ‘em, Johnny?” Simon’s wife asked. 

“Oh, sure! If that’s alright with you?” She took his larger hand in answer and placed it near the top of her baby bump. A few kicks hit his hand. They were rather strong kicks too. Definitely a football star, or another SAS kid, in the making. 

“Woah!” Johnny exclaimed. Then, turning to his L.t. who was watching them interact, his mouth turned into a wide grin. “Does that make me their uncle, Simon?”

“Don’t push it, MacTavish.” His wife giggled. 

Masterlist

[moonriseoverkyoto]

Wearing your brother’s dog tags brings a lot of questions, which meant problems. Especially from men, especially at a bar where said men try to pick you up. Or strike a conversation about the mysterious dog tags. Lucky for you a certain Scot lovingly doesn’t think to ask too many questions. Not until Johnny “Soap” Mactavish’s tongue is down your throat in the back of his car on holiday do the gears begin to turn. But only, yes only after, a few odd weekends of small dates and letters when he can write, he finally decides to ask who your tags belong to between deep kisses and pants. You frown as you pull away to respond, the mood dampened.

“Oh I really shouldn’t say..” you sigh not wanting to explain the long story typically because it ruins the mood “my brother gave me these so I wouldn’t worry about him when he leaves on missions. His call sign is Ghost and…” Shit. Johnny’s whole body seizes up as his heart makes a pitfall down his body. His hearing stops as his brain repeats your joined last name over and over and over; Riley, Riley Riley Riley. Fuck why didn’t he connect the dots. Ghost always was secretive and protective about his younger sister, everyone knew he always declined to bring you as his plus one or even show photos to the rest of the 141. Damnit he knows somewhere down the line if Gaz or even worse Price hears about this that he’ll never live it down. If Ghost hears about this - shit he’ll never live. He finally zones back in to hear you say

“…but that doesn’t matter because you guys don’t run in the same circles, right?” Soap’s nervous smile gives you all the time for your heart to join his in dropping down below. But as your phone rings both of you are sure your hearts have dropped down to hell as the caller id reads: Simon Riley.

Drabble Drabble, I’m tired and I wanted to put this on paper before it slipped my mind. I’ll expand upon this later but this is mostly an idea for @glossysoap to enjoy because Glossy loves Soap as much as I do. So I hope you enjoy btw not proofread so toodles xoxo - Moon

©️moonriseoverkyoto 2024. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, or translate any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

Reposts are 100000% appreciated. Also my inbox is open for requests!

[kazifrost]

Velcrows

[satanslittlefucker]

[On a mission where y/n has to seduce a target]

Y/n *lost in thought*: As much as the success of this will do wonders for my self confidence, I'm pretty sure it's not a very healthy way of doing it.

Y/n: ...Oh the voices are back!

Y/n: Nvm, sorry.

Ghost: ...

Soap: ...

Gaz: ...

Price: ...

Ghost: Price get the kid a fucking shrink already.

Y/n: What? Noooo! I've got coping mechanisms! And i like them!

Soap and Gaz: They're unhealthy!!!

Y/n: They're fun!!

Price *utterly exhausted dad sigh*: Why...? Just why...?

[diejager]

Just the boys and König finding sh scars on reader, and/or helping them stitch a wound? Platonic, if possible

I’m gonna make the assumption (I might be horribly wrong about this…) that sh means self-harm???

Cw: Self-harm, blood, scars, protective behaviour, helicopter parent (Price and Laswell), angst?, fluff?, stitches, tell me if I missed any.

There’s a certain level of… panic in their eyes, the rising waves of fright until it threatened to drown them in a thick and dark abyss, swallowing their minds whole at the single fear of losing you to something they could have stopped; prevention they thought, a plan B in case plan A failed, but if they didn’t know, how could they have time to set it up? König almost had a heart attack when he broke the door at Gaz’s call, finding you slumped against the bathroom door, one hand on the door knob and another - the bloodied one - limply clutching your phone, eyes blinking blearily at them, clouded in confusion and fatigue. 

It didn’t take them long to call the rest, rushing you to the infirmary after your accident, cutting too deep and risking death from your slight slip of the hand. Laswell and Price were called, finding the four of them seated beside you after they stormed into the sterile room. You looked ashamed, not about the act of cutting yourself to feel more than the depression and darkness in your heart, but the act of being caught, letting them know of your… ways to refresh your mind. The shameful tilt of your head downwards, staring with heavy eyes at your bandaged wrist, cleaned and stitched up. 

Ghost had forced your sleeves up, rolling them until your biceps to show the extent of it, the many lines, crisscrossing in old and jagged lines of paler skin, standing starkly from the usual flush. He wasn’t disappointed at you, never, from a person who cut themselves to another, he was more so disappointed in himself from not catching the signs —a dark omen of pain and sorrow, forgetting that he was blinded by your happy smile to catch the tired gleam in your eyes. 

Both he and König knew the pain, the new scars that no one asked for, but kept adding and adding until it would eventually tear your arm off, limb from limb, piece by piece until you lost the will to keep on. He took on smoking instead, as self-destructive as cutting was, but the thicket of nicotine would calm his loud mind, and König had a therapist, someone he was… willing to talk to when things got too hard. They understood and felt, but failed you all the same, despite everything they vowed, they almost lost you because they were too blind to see past your thin mask. 

It was a feeling shared by the two sergeants, the more sensitive and sympathetic of the bunch, more in tune with heartfelt affection and human socialisation than the others, and the two weren’t afraid to voice it. The anger at themselves, the rage that crossed Soap’s face when he curled his fingers, bleeding his palms in the same manner you bled your feelings, hidden and alone in your dark room, bathroom and floor stained in the iron-rich ichor. 

Gaz made a face, lips pulled down, brows pinched and eyes wet, tears fluttering at the edge of his lashes. He was a soft man, feeling and sympathetic, nearing empathetic whenever he wanted to feel what you felt, but in a crisis like this, where the thought had crossed his mind once or twice, but never acted it, he was lost. Confused and afraid, a daze where he thought that - perhaps - was how you felt when he wasn’t there to ease your pain, ignorant of the subtle signs of agony in your heart, screaming for help when your mouth wouldn’t utter a single word. 

Price and Laswell hovered, combat helicopters roaming around you for any danger, watchful and worried, confident in their helping hand, but worried you would need help. Wanting to help, but afraid that needing it would mean something much deeper, and today was just the boiling point of it, the discovery of your sorrow and their dread and disgust at their inactivity. Laswell had made a few phone calls, her voice hushed as she spoke, eyeing Price for corrections and agreements until they came to the same consensus. 

If you hadn’t known any better, you would have considered them your parents, loving and caring, tender and affectionate, just as the rest of them, all friends and teammates you considered brothers. Yet, there was a stigma to it, one imposed by normal people that made you feel a certain way. Perhaps that why you hadn’t spoke about it, the dreadful need to keep it hidden until it was forced into the light. 

“You don’t have to do it alone anymore, luv,” Price promised, his low and rumbling voice that exhumed calm tenderness.

That was all it took you to sob, a dam creaking and breaking, letting your tears flood outwards while you clutched at the lapel of his jacket, hiding away in the familiar musk and cologne of his parental figure.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[worms-for-brains]

What I mean by my previous post.

[the-abyss-of-fandoms]

Soap asks Y/N about how they feel about Ghost

Y/N: What the lieutenant? No no we’re just friends

Ghost walks in:

Soap: Why are your eyes shaped like hearts?

Y/N says dreamily: Allergies

[gatitties]

War & crack

─Task Force 141 x young!reader

─Summary: some headcanons about your life working with TF141

─Warnings: cliché¿, reader is a gen z

Part two / Halloween special

so... I've been consuming some content about CoD and I know the least about the franchise but the few things I've read have been so good that I couldn't resist writing something too 🫢, sorry if something is out of character since I don't know many things

— You are a threat to society.

— Your parents sent you to the military in the hope that your bad behaviors would disappear, realistically, they were not prepared to be parents either.

— Parental neglect, what a surprise.

— You had many bad influences in your adolescence and free access to the Internet without parental control was like throwing gasoline on the fire.

— Theft, extortion, assault, harassment, banditry, disobedience to authority, fraud, driving without a license, breaking and entering, kidnapping, arson, arms trafficking...

— You had a good record of minor criminal records, the vast majority due to bad friends, but you were already an accomplice.

— Which led you to the fact that when you reached the age of majority, you were enlisted directly into the army without being able to have a choice.

— It wasn't as bad as you thought except for the amount of physical exercise you were subjected to, but you knew how to put up with it.

— Despite being young, in the three years that you served as a cadet, you were sent to many missions, perhaps with the hope of dying since the generals sent you to the front lines of the battle.

— You didn't care, you were feral, careless enough and craving adrenaline, you liked to dance with death in every fight.

— You were the first to run whenever you could to start the attack, after all, all you liked to do was hit, stab or use close-range weapons.

— You lost an arm because of that, you didn't care much because now you have a prosthesis with decorations to your liking.

— Then you were sent to Task Force 141.

— None of the boys expected someone like you, they definitely had a bit of a hard time adjusting to your personality.

— You were a strange combination between Ghost and Soap, going from being a grave to being an explosion of emotions at any moment.

— The first time you saw Ghost you thought he was giving you a side eye and you gave it back to him.

— Later you learned that it's his normal look but you give him the dead look every once in a while.

— Soap and you are not a good combination when you know each other better, he will just give you approval to all the stupid things you see on the internet.

— Gaz might join, but most of the time he just warns you that Price won't be amused.

— Price will look at you like a parent disgusted (but not surprised) by some of your nonsense.

— Confidence sucks, and when you're spouting darkly humorous jokes or about the ways you want to kill yourself because something goes wrong, Price isn't in that boat.

— It's not worth it if you justify it with 'my traumas, my jokes'.

— Honestly, everyone is worried about the number of times you've said you were going to kill yourself for the slightest inconvenience.

— They don't understand most of your current meme references, maybe Gaz, being the second youngest, will pick up on something.

— They were so confused with your attack tactics, because you had practically none, you just jumped in with luck to hit everything you could, which worked every time.

— You will train with Ghost because you are not aware of your surroundings when it comes to fighting.

— The first time they saw your prosthesis they thought a bullet had hit you in the arm, but when you laughed and removed the metal arm shouting 'everything is possible when you're physically disabled' they swallowed their concern.

— You show affection with punches, you punch Soap's shoulder, Gaz's back or Price's side, Ghost... you prefer to communicate with your eyes because the last time you punched him in a friendly way you almost ended up with your shoulder out of its place.

— They can't take you seriously, they really do try but it's impossible, you look like an impulsive teenager who they are babysitting even if you're in your twenties.

— At least it's like that outside the battlefield, you get more serious or focused on the missions.

— Gaz saves your ass whenever you get distracted, which is most of the time, you tell him that he has won heaven but if death wanted to kiss you you weren't going to refuse the offer.

— Seriously, stop with the jokes about your death or depression, Price will get you a psychologist.

— It seems like a joke but Ghost and you end up getting along quite well, it's a quiet and pleasant dynamic, without pressure.

— As with Soap, you know how to adapt a lot to everyone's personalities, as if you were a sponge that absorbs all the likes and disappointments of the boys to get along better.

— You don't give a shit about your own life but you're fighting tooth and nail to protect others.

— Which leads you to almost die once, on top of that, Price scolded you for jumping to try to save them, you didn't care, you'll do it again.

— Squeaks or bangs in the wee hours of the morning? It's you moving the few pieces of furniture in what you can call your own room.

— Someday you'll give the boys a heart attack (Ghost maybe not) because you walk in the dark at night since you tend to stay up late.

— Price will scold you for not sleeping well and drinking so many energy drinks or coffee.

— You will leave random objects in the boys' rooms, like, last time you bought little ducks of different colors and hid them.

— Price denies with a small smile when he sees a yellow duck with a cowboy hat as a paperweight.

— Gaz laughs when he sees a blue duck with an aviator hat in the drawer where he kept his records.

— Soap finds a yellow duck with an umbrella hat next to his bath stuff and fiddles with it when he has time for a long bath.

— Ghost narrows his eyes at the sight of a black duck with sunglasses and gold chains under a pile of clothes in his room, he sighs leaving it in the small window of his room as decoration.

— You are strictly prohibited from bringing any type of animal into the base of operations as a pet, once you wanted to have a raccoon, a tarantula, a snake, you even named a cockroach you saw in the kitchen.

—Just- no.

— So you chose to have a carnivorous plant as a pet, it was acceptable at least.

— You are also prohibited from cooking without supervision.

— You're like a new world for them, but honestly, they wouldn't know what they would do if something happened to you now that you've earned their love.

[krypticcafe]

Can please get fic where young reader almost gets r-word.. like! What happened to ellie on 'the last of us' like make it into that situation, reader kills the rapist and flees away and runs into the 141 team, and their like in this state of like panic, but they calm them down and they explain what happened they are beyond livid so they just reck hell on the people who was with the man who tried to r-word reader.

(this a platonic relationship between reader and the team)

Me and the Devil

rating: mature

pairing(s): platonic 141 x gn!reader

warning(s): no use of y/n, dead dove do not eat, non-explicit attempted r*pe, emotional and physical trauma, sexual physical and mental violence, canon-typical graphic violence, comfort

wordcount: ~3.8k

a/n: i'm not exactly sure what anon meant by young, but for context, reader is probably 20-22, I'm just not comfortable writing this kinda stuff for teen or child reader, I hope you don't mind. also, huge, HUGE emphasis on the warnings. though nothing is explicit and there are no sexual graphic terms, the descriptions and actions alone are still very disturbing and uncomfortable! and the violence is a little uncomfy for those not used to it, too. title is from 'Me and the Devil' - Soap&Skin

synopsis: You can see it. The devil. It laughs, and laughs, and laughs, mocks you for your childish stupidity and naivete. To think the angels would come marching in, that you'd make it out with any semblance of sanity. You can't fight it, you can't even hide from it. All you can do is lie in your grave.

Just hours ago, you were alongside the 141, cleaning up and wiping out an enemy base, a typical Tuesday on a summer afternoon. You should've known things would go downhill with how smoothly it was all going. Even Price commented on it with an air of wariness and suspicion. After all, it was a saying that if the fight starts getting too easy, then it's an ambush. And an ambush it was. You want to tell yourself that it was nothing, easy as pie compared to what you've been through. You wanted to say that it was a success and you turned the tables on your enemies. You wanted to say that it ended within a matter of minutes and that you were on your way back to base with your boys, ready for a night of banter at the pub. You'd join Ghost in watching Soap and Gaz try their hand at poker, taking a shot each time Soap's dogshit luck lost him another couple of euros while Price would pry Roach from having another cocktail and piss himself ('it was one time!' he slurs).

But instead, you're here. Locked in a room, bag over your head, tied to a chair, a stereotypical hostage situation but that didn't make it any less tolerable. Though having a potato sack over your head was nowhere near as embarrassing as the reason why you were captured. You tried your best to hold onto the jeep, honestly, you did. Until some ankle-biter decided to latch onto you and sink his teeth into your flesh, causing your grip to loosen and send you tumbling into the dirt. Your bodies slammed into the ground, kicking up dust and your opponent taking most of the fall damage for you. How thoughtful.

Seething at the audacity he had to chomp on your leg like some feral mutt, you gave him a piece of your mind and made sure he'd never bite another ankle again. His friends caught up the moment you were done. They dragged you back down to the coarse dirt and sand of the earth, making you taste and choke on dust. You looked at the lifeless figure in the sand, briefly wondering if you'd be wishing you were him before a bag was slipped over your head and tied like a collar. It didn't help that the sand on the roof of your mouth combined with your ineffective attempts to ration your breathing made for a burn worse than any hard liquor down your throat. Thrashing and shouting like a madman, you cursed them like some teenager who discovered swearing as they tossed you into the back of a truck, rolling you forth with the heels of their boots. Not your finest moment.

Once you were loaded and the rest of them climbed on, the truck shot forward without slowing down for a second, taking you to your own personal hell for the next few days. Knowing the 141, they were probably at the safehouse, planning their next move to retrieve you. In the time between interrogations and routine attempts to break you, you could imagine Soap and Roach pacing around the room, Ghost brandishing a knife with a dark look in his eyes, and Price looming over a map and pulling up contacts with Gaz at his side. While you hated to burden them with your own mistakes, thinking about them all gnawing their teeth in comical anger at your expense brought you momentary comfort, eliciting a small chuckle.

"Something funny?" Much to your ire, all your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of several people shuffling into the room. You could only expect so much privacy in a place like this. The man who spoke up seemed to carry himself like a leader, considering how he spoke above all others and you could hear him carrying out demands every now and then, checking up on you as if he actually gave a shit. And currently, he was on the top of your "to kill" list, along with every other cunt in this prison.

"What'll it be today, more screaming or more silence? You know, you can only stay quiet for so long." He sighed. Judging by the sound of metal screeching on concrete, he pulled up a front-row seat. With a single yank, you were again temporarily freed of the confines of the bag on your face, glaring at the man with a look of ferocity that seemed as if it were etched on your face permanently. His clothes were disturbingly clean-cut and polished despite the blood he spilled for the past few days. Your blood he spilled. "Come now... you know you'll only make things more difficult. Face it, kid, they're not coming, it's been days."

When you felt gloved fingers touch your jaw you snapped, pulling away like an animal restrained by a leash. Your captor let out a taunting "Oooh", and your skin crawled at how he heckled and laughed like some adolescent boy poking a rabid animal with a stick through its cage. "So it bites."

"Fuck you." You rasped.

"And it talks." The humiliation of their nonchalant attitudes made you seethe, you knew it was a tactic to get under your skin and you just wouldn't have it, turning your head away from the men.

"Uh-uh, eyes on me. How is such a fresh thing like you out fighting wars with men like them?" He hummed, gripping your jaw with a strength that took you by surprise and had you wincing. Even though his hands were gloved, it felt as if he were trying to dig into your skin. With no other choice, you were forced to look into his eyes, the pyres of unimaginable anger burning in yours.

However, it was then that you felt it. Something was off. Something was horribly off about him. The several times he'd come in here to either coax you with gentle words or have his men beat you within an inch of your life, he either had some faux kindness or gleeful malice painted across his face. But this time, his eyes were alight with slimy delight. You hated it, Hated how it made you feel small, cornered, pulling on your leash so that you couldn't be yanked from the one place that made you feel safe. You hated how it didn't feel like he was trying to get under your skin, or sink into your bones but instead your mind as if to violate it. You hated how it seemed like he had something more in mind, something that you couldn't predict like a kick to the ribs or a carefully worded reassurance that you'd be in "good hands". It was the one thing you felt like you had control over, knowing what was next, and now you didn't.

With a wave of his hand, his men all filed out of the room, leaving just him and you alone. One came back with a bowl in their hands and you felt yourself doubt your worries. Were you already beginning to lose it in here? "Hungry?" He smiled, taking the bowl and dismissing the soldier. It looked and smelled like a stew, potatoes, and beef, not scraps of stale bread or lukewarm, half-empty beer cans.

"I asked them to make something special today for you, isn't that nice? I suppose even someone like you has a taste for the finer things in life and wouldn't say yes to leftovers." No answer came but it was to be expected as he mixed the stew with a spoon. Your eyes were trained on his face instead, expecting some kind of strings attached. He entertained that expectation by—to your disgust—spitting into the stew, mixing it more, and bringing up a spoonful to your face. "Consider that the cost of being so picky. Open wide, soldier. Surely you won't make a fuss again, now will you?"

There was a pause, you leaned forward, lips ghosting the tip of the spoon before you roughly shoved his chair away from you with your boot. The bowl fell from his hands onto the ground, pooling between the two of you. He could go to hell with his stupid fucking soup.

He let out a scowl of disapproval, his self-satisfied smirk replaced with disgust and irritation like a parent to their troublemaking child. Fine with you, you didn't need that asshole's approval. He stood, grabbing a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiping his hands and the small splatters on his uniform. "Should've known better that the government's pets would act like such animals. I gave you a chance, I tried to make this easy for you." He snarled, tossing his handkerchief aside and grabbing you by the collar, "But no, you just had to be a fucking brat, huh? Fine, be one. I can work with that. Either way, you'll be put in your place soon enough."

Before you could comprehend what he was implying, he slashed the ropes that binded you to your chair with a combat knife and shoved you to the floor, your head throbbing as it hit concrete, along with the rest of your aching muscles. Vision blurred, you sat up and tried to make out what he was doing, falling back when he roughly grabbed your hair and shoved your head back down into the ground. Like an alarm, every single flight or fight response went off in your body and yet you couldn't figure out what he was trying, you just knew that this was something worse and that you were a fool to let your guard down for a single second.

A twisted smile broke across his lips, "You know, you have a very lovely voice. You sing the loveliest songs."

Your brows furrowed, confusion flashing across your face until you let out a yelp of pain when he pressed into your stomach, already bruised from previous matters. He let out a sigh that made you shudder and you felt bile creep up your throat, moving your face to the side in fear that you'd choke on it.

"Eyes. On. Me." He snapped, his voice sounding so much louder than it actually was, his hand twisting your jaw back to look up at him while his fingers proceeded to dig themselves into whatever spots got you hissing and squirming away. That's all it took for your resolve to break, the blaze in your eyes fizzling out and replace with genuine fear and utter shock as you watched him straddle you and stare with a piercing gaze that trapped you. It forced your attention to stay on him, daring you to look anywhere else but him when that was all you could focus on. Him.

You couldn't even scream, paralyzed when you heard the sound of metal clinking against metal and the brushing of fabric, raw horror setting itself alight in your bones at how he loomed over you. At that moment, you swore you could see the devil itself laughing, cackling, mocking you in his eyes.

It was like you were seven again.

Scared, cornered in your room because you swore, you swore and sobbed and cried that you saw it, a monster in your closet. A dark, shadowy figure that'd taunt you merely with its existence and prayed on your downfall, drinking the fat tears you spilled and listening to your high-pitched cries as if they were music, eyes that you couldn't see but they could see you.

Others tried to convince you that it wasn't real, opened the doors, and closed them again, showing that there was nothing but cleanly folded clothes and hung-up jackets lined neatly along a rack. Every time, you'd feel a little more silly about your fears but anxious that they'd come back for more.

At some point, you nearly forgot about the monster altogether. It ceased to exist in your closet, but never your mind.

"Damn it, what now?!"

Pulled back into the present, you heard muffled speech with loud, obtrusive noises and more screaming and cursing from the man above you. He was faced with the still-closed door, talking to a soldier behind it. Instead of trying to catch up with what happened, your mind raced to its defensive instincts. Finding the spoon dropped from earlier, you reached for it with a strained grunt which caught his attention. Yet with a swift grab and thrust of your hand, you jammed the blunt handle of the spoon into his throat and screamed at him, your vocal cords ripping in deliriously satisfying pain.

Barely giving him a second to let out a final gasp for air, you flipped him over underneath you and yanked the spoon out, blood erupting out of the gash. Fire ignited in your veins and you balled your fists, giving him a taste of the rage of a caged beast with nothing left to lose, just the desperation to survive for more. It was a symphony of grotesque crunches of bone and ligament, and you yelled, screamed, and cursed with each impact at him, at the entire organization, at a godless world for making you live through hell. A pitiful yet gruesomely satisfying attempt to reclaim what sanity and control you lost in that room.

Blood and flesh coated your fingers like warm syrup, and you were sure your knuckles were split. Crimson red was a good look on a sterile uniform, you thought to yourself. The sight of your work made you realize it wasn't the devil in his eyes was laughing at you, but rather its reflection from over your shoulder, still gleefully singing and squealing with delight as it watched you indulge in pure, unadulterated wrath. Its tail wrapped around your neck, strangling you with delirium and bloodthirst, guiding you in your ear as you beat an already dead man to a pulp.

Taking a stand, its whispers remained in your ear, praising you and yet you felt sick looking at what was left of what you had done, of what was left of the man's face. His blood pooled around his shoulders, mixing with the stew into an unholy concoction, evidence that was a testimony to your suffering and to your sin. Using his combat knife, you cut through the ropes around your wrists, skin scratched raw and bleeding. Without a second glance, you took his gun and left the room.

To this day, you tell yourself that you crawled out of hell that day.

"Any signs of the hostage?" Gaz shouted over comms, holding off a room of enemies alongside Price.

The moment they had all seen your fingers slip from the jeep and saw you tumble away that afternoon was the moment they knew they wouldn't be coming back to base for a long time. Roach had watched in despair as he was so damn close to grabbing your hand, swearing that had he'd been a little quicker, you wouldn't be here. Soap had yelled for Price to go back but Gaz and Ghost both knew his hand wasn't going to turn that wheel anytime soon. All of them knew. They couldn't turn back, and you wouldn't have wanted them to either, not unless the entire team and mission were to be jeopardized. However, that didn't stop them from doing whatever it takes to get you back safe again.

"Negative." Ghost answered over the line, standing with Soap in a hallway painted with the blood of the opposition, bodies scattered like lifeless bags of flesh with no greater purpose than to rot.

"I have eyes on them, they escaped from captivity. Currently pursuing them!" Roach responded. He'd seen your figure run down a hall at an alarming speed, and when he followed you, he had a glimpse of the room and the spectacle you left behind, "The leader is terminated, too. Jesus, can someone get over here?! They're gunning it for the west exit and I can barely keep up!"

You were in fact, bolting for the exits, panicking the more you got lost and running so fast that you probably could've broken a record on base. Distant gunfire and blasts snapped at your heels like a pack of dogs, reminding you that if you didn't keep running, you'd be dead, you'd be torn apart and beaten just like their leader and fed to the wolves. Boots trampled the ground behind you like drums of death, the yelling of men ringing in your ears, a requiem to the inevitable. Run, just run, it's all you could do in this frenzied state. If you didn't you'd be helpless, you'd be put down like a rabid fucking animal. Run, even if your bones shook from the pain, even if flames licked at your torn muscles, even if it meant dying of exhaustion because anything was better than dying at the hands of those animals.

At last, you found the light of an exit, finally an escape from this asylum. Your heart felt lighter when sunlight kissed your skin only to be weighed down by getting slammed into, grabbed into a relentless hold. You screeched, shrieked, snapped, and sneered while the voices seemed relieved, almost happy at your capture.

"Don't fucking touch me-!" You screamed with animosity, practically frothing at the mouth, "Don't fucking touch me I'll fucking kill you! I'll fucking—"

"Friendly, friendly!"

Still growling under your breath, confusion flickered over your eyes. Why did it sound like... like...

"Captain?"

"You're safe kid," Price panted, as if he'd been running to chase you. He was chasing you. In all your hysteria, you hadn't realized that the group had been running after you for past minute or so, trying to call for you, get you to slow down. The only thing that worked was to just grab to and hopefully knock some sense into you or knock you out. "It's just us, see?"

Your gaze softened, taking in the features of the man before you. Despite the crossfire and fighting, somehow he still had such a kind look on him, puppy eyes that pitied you and kept you grounded. Turning your head, you saw the rest of the men watching you in concern, all tired but overjoyed nonetheless that you were finally back.

You were safe.

It was like a weight finally lifted off your chest, a pile of restrained misery and relief washing over you, and you wept without a thought to pride. Price whispered your name in a way that felt so comfortingly familiar, tucking your head into his shoulder and letting you muffle your sobs into his uniform. It was painful to hear your wails, the relief and the instability shaking off of you in waves. A part of you expected to be scolded, to be teased for messing up so badly with a simple mistake as letting go of the jeep but they didn't.

"You're in good hands,"

"We've got them covered,"

"They can't hurt you anymore, love."

"Do you have any major injuries?" Gaz asked, but you couldn't say a thing, clinging onto Price's jacket and crying like you were four years old and found by your parents after getting lost. Slowly and gently, Price pulled you from him to examine you, and that's when he saw it. It didn't take long for the others to notice as well. Your clothes were torn and belt undone. While no physical harm was visible, knowing what happened was enough to make Price tick.

"Roach, get them to the car and give them some spares ASAP. Everyone else with me, we're cleaning out the place." Everyone else had the same dark look in their eyes, one that sent shivers down your spine but encouraged you once more you were secure now. While Roach escorted you away, you peeked back to see them disappear back into the building. After you changed in the car, you could hear the distant gunfire and screams, shutting your eyes closed tight, making an effort to drown out the thoughts.

"You okay?" Roach frowned. he had apologized to you a dozen times over on your way to the car and explained all that happened after you were taken, which you appreciated him for and insisted it wasn't his fault. But he was sweet and stubborn, bandaging your wounds and telling you he'd make it up by giving you his dessert for the next month, a gesture that made you smile for once in a while.

"Yeah, yeah just... hope they're safe." You breathed, sinking into your seat with the rest of your thoughts. Though you cried once more, quietly this time and on Roach's shoulder. He was cautious not to initiate too much physical contact, holding your hand only when you asked for it.

The building was silent, not a single soul left to be reaped by the 141. They all regrouped around a body that was beaten beyond belief, to the point where the face was unrecognizable. Regardless, they knew who it was.

Gaz broke the silence, "You think they did this?" They all looked at each other, not wanting to imagine what happened to lead to this point.

Ghost nodded, a confirmation of something they already knew but wanted to mutually agree on. "No one else could've made this much of a bloody mess. HQ's going to have a field day with this. Can't say that he didn't have it coming for him, though."

"And well deserved, too." Soap spat. Price continued to look down on the figure on the floor without any thought to it. Not anger, disappointment, or spite, just disregard. Headquarters would be interested to hear what happened, but he could care less about the report. All that mattered was that loose ends were tied.

Minutes later, the men all piled up in the car again, setting for the road back. You woke from your half-asleep state, rubbing your eyes. You were met with a soft smile from Soap, who ruffled your hair. "You alright there, sleepin' beauty?"

Humming in acknowledgment, you nodded and glanced out the window to see the road whizzing by, the building growing smaller and smaller in the distance. Some dingy warehouse. So that was the hellhole you were stuck in for a near week.

"Dinnae think 'bout it too much," He followed your gaze and nudged your boot with his, "When we said they can't hurt ye anymore, we meant it."

"Yeah," You quietly mumbled, leaning back on Roach, who had fallen asleep and leaned on Gaz for support. "Can smell it on you guys."

That got a rumbling laugh out of Soap and even a little headshake from Ghost who sat in the passenger seat. Looking at the rearview mirror, Price was looking right back at you, eyes flickering to the road occasionally, "Get some rest. It'll be a long ride home."

You nodded like a little kid with a mumbled "yessir" and drifted off once more. For the first time in forever, you feel like you can breathe and ground yourself, no punishment, no torture, nothing to haunt in this rare bit of calm. You didn't feel the pain of your sore muscles, you didn't feel that your body was filthy, you didn't feel small and scared, not anymore. Just surrounded by nothing but a familiar feeling of safety and lulled to sleep by the sound of the engine that took you home.

a/n pt.2: had a tough time writing this one but hey, I think I managed! to be honest, though, I'm not super confident about the ending and proofread this while half-asleep, but I'd love to hear some thoughts about it. shoutout to the people who noticed any reoccurring themes.

[python333]

im in love with your content omg😭 your writing style is just chefs kiss

can i req a reader with the tf141 being on a mission and hearing an enemy say something in british slang and they just go "what did they just say.." in comms? like a reader who doesnt know anything about slang like not even that bars in the uk r called pubs (if im not wrong) and just nods whenever a private talks in slang, and their brain is just trying to figure out what they just said?

its just a really silly plot with a silly reader :3

pardon? — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the req says, you know nothing about british slang and on a mission the enemy speaks british and you dont know what theyre saying :3

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 2.6k

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

note HI YES I LOVE THIS REQ!! i take every opportunity i can to make fun of british people so this is right up my alley!! tysm for the compliments hjfhdjskf recently ive been getting more praise on my works and it makes me so happy i love yall. again, sorry if this sounds a little rushed or if any parts are incoherent, i wrote this at 12/1am and im both more productive and write more nonsense at this time + this one is wayyyy shorter than ones i usually do because i didnt know what else to write for it so i apologize for that as well! this is pure fluff and humor (i like to think im funny) so enjoy!!

“—eah, and now we have to camp out here ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do it ‘imself, so I feel like we should have a chat with the others, see if they’re willing to leg it out of here with us,” An enemy soldier suggests to you, his British accent thick enough that you think it might be cockney.

You cross your arms to hide your shaking hands and nod in agreement, as if you understood anything he said, and put on the same shitty British accent you’d been using for the past five minutes you’d been talking to this guy.

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” You agree, clearing your throat before asking, “You know where the others are stationed?”

“You don’t?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you suspiciously.

“Mate, all the orders I was given went in one ear and out the other,” You sigh, holding back a wince at your desperate attempt to sound more natural using British slang, “I just know I’ve got to stand out here and shoot the enemy.”

The enemy eyes you suspiciously and he takes a moment to try and read your face before he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, actually. Which would be weird, if we’re in the same platoon, don’t you—” 

You sigh and quickly pull out the small switchblade you had hanging on your belt, stabbing the enemy in the neck before he can say anything else and grabbing him before he can drop to the ground, putting a hand behind his back as you half lead half drag him into a dark alleyway beside the building he was stationed outside of. 

You quickly set him down into a sitting position and take your knife out of his throat, tucking the blade back into the handle before adjusting it to latch onto your belt once again, letting out a frustrated huff as you stare at the now dead man in front of you. 

“[c/n], how copy?” Price’s voice crackles through on your ear piece. 

You push in the PTT button and lower your voice, “Copy, I fucked up a little bit. One of the guys was onto me.”

“You were there for five bloody minutes,” Gaz’s voice rings through, his tone both disbelieving and amused, “How’d he already catch onto you?” 

“The British are smarter than I thought,” You breathe out, standing up and looking around for a ladder to climb to get to higher ground before anyone spots you. You go farther into the alley and find an old, rusty ladder with rungs that look like they’d snap if someone sneezed on them too hard—perfect for climbing up.

You wrinkle your nose as your hand makes contact with one of the rungs but don’t say anything otherwise, instead wordlessly hauling yourself up onto the ladder. 

“Reminder that there’s three British people with you, currently,” Ghost’s deadpan tone crackles, his breathing heavy, as you can tell he’s whispering into his mic, “All of which are very smart.”

“I caught you reading the instructions on a box of tea bags the other day, don’t fuckin’ talk right now,” You grumble, slowly climbing up the ladder, hating the creaking noises it makes as you do. It sounds like it’s going to snap at any minute, and you try to go up as fast as you can, but one wrong move and you’ll easily slip, some of the rust that flakes off of the ladder enough to make you slip up. 

“They were circles,” Ghost says, exasperated, “I didn’t know if that made a difference.” 

“I thought British people were supposed to know everything about tea,” You roll your eyes, putting your hand on the next rusty rung up on the ladder. 

“Yeah, L.t,” Soap agrees with you teasingly, the wind hitting his mic, making it obvious that he’s running, “Thought ye Brits were s’possed to ken everything ‘bout tea.” 

You laugh quietly to yourself as you finally make it to the top of the building, the top just high enough for you to look at the few soldiers below and hear a majority of their conversations without them noticing you.

You get to the edge of the rooftop and pull the sniper rifle you’d been carrying around off of your back, glad to finally be back in your element rather than trying to get in undercover, and set it up. 

You pull the stand out and set it on the edge of the roof, and look through the scope of the rifle, lining it up so that it’s aiming directly at one of the soldier’s heads, specifically the one that was standing directly out of the entrance you originally were meant to try and get into—but doing this didn’t change much.

Regardless of if you got in or not, he would’ve died, and the others would’ve gotten in too. You getting in first was just meant to make it more efficient.

You press down on the PTT button on your earpiece as you look through the scope of your sniper rifle, keeping the aim on the soldier in front of the entrance, “The guy in front of the entrance is just standing still, so whenever you need me to, I can shoot ‘im down.” 

“I don’t think we need to get in just yet,” Price hums, “But maybe in a minute.” “M’kay,” You hum, taking your eye away from the scope, instead just looking over at the enemy soldiers. You lay on your stomach, leaning your head down a bit to try and listen in on the enemy’s conversations easier, trying your best not to make yourself too obvious.

The conversations were pretty boring and almost the same for every soldier you’d eavesdropped on, for the most part. Enemy soldiers joking around, talking about what they’ll do once they’re on leave—like they would be able to do that after you completed your assignment—and just some general team camaraderie.

The lackluster subjects of their conversations weren’t bad at all, no, in fact, you could care less what they talk about. 

It was their stupid accents you hated. 

Are you surrounded by British people everyday? Yes. Does that stop you from hating on the British everyday? No. Okay, maybe the accents aren’t stupid, but God, they had the thickest cockney accents you’d heard in your entire life, and it was making your eavesdropping so much harder, and had almost been the reason you were given away earlier.

They used slang words that you’re certain you’ve never heard before in your life, and used analogies that didn’t even make sense—you heard one of them use the words, verbatim, ‘Don’t get stroppy’. Stroppy? Stroppy? 

You narrow your eyes down at the soldiers below you, listening to a conversation they’d just started up. 

“—eah, ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do anything about it, so now we have to camp out here and wait for somethin’ to happen,” One of the soldiers scoffs, “I’m telling you, man, if I see that skull-masked bloke runnin’ ‘round out here, I’m legging it from ‘im immediately.” 

You draw your eyebrows together in confusion, but you stay silent for now. Isn’t that exactly what the other soldier said? Are they like a hive mind or something?

“You’re legging it?” The other soldier asked, sounding almost incredulous, “What happened to you chattin’ to some of the others about your loyalty and what not?” “All that’s irrelevant when the fuckin’ grim reaper rolls around and starts murkin’ people like he’s been doing for the entirety we’ve been here, mate,” The first soldier laughs, “You think I wanna be here when he does that?” 

“Don’t act like a prat about it, man—fuckin’ talking’ like you can outrun him.” “A prat? I’m not—” You tune out the rest of their argument and instead try and figure out what they were saying.

A prat? Legging it? Can’t be arsed? What the fuck? You push the PTT button on your earpiece and as quietly as you can, you ask, “I need some help. Serious help. Life or death situation.” Immediately, Price’s voice rings through, “What? What is it? What happened?” “The soldiers are British and I can’t tell what they’re saying,” You answer, ignoring Price’s relieved sigh on his end, “I need help.” “Jesus, fuck, don’t scare me like that,” Price sighs, taking a few breaths before continuing, “Alright, what do you need help with?” 

“Figuring out what they’re saying.” This time, you hear Gaz’s voice crackle through, “Well, you’ve got three British people here—tell us what he’s saying.” 

“One of the guys was talking about ‘legging it’ if he saw Ghost heading towards him, and talked about Ghost ‘murking’ people, and then the other guy he was talking to told him he was being a ‘prat’ about it and he got all offended,” You eloquently say into the earpiece, watching as the argument gets a little more heated. You can hear an amused huff from Ghost on his end and a scoff from Soap in return. 

“They’re just saying they’re gonna run away if they see Ghost because he’s been killing a lot of their soldiers, and the other guy said he was being a prat, which I guess is like…” Gaz pauses to think of how to explain the slang term before settling on, “Someone who’s kind of full of themselves, I guess. Or ignorant. Either or.” 

“They couldn’t just say that?” You muse quietly, still staring down at the enemy soldiers. 

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that,” Price’s voice cuts through, “Go ahead and shoot the guy down. I’m ready to head in.”

“Got it,” You hum, quickly putting your eye back up to your scope and readjusting it a bit before quietly warning, “Shooting him now.” 

You pull the trigger and the enemy goes down immediately, and through your scope you can see the small twitching of his body as the other soldier starts to freak out.

You quickly aim the gun at his still-alive friend and shoot him down as well, silently congratulating yourself on your good aim and continuing to look through the scope, watching as Price runs in with Gaz and a few other soldiers. 

They struggle with the door for a moment and you sigh before pressing in the PTT button on your earpiece and quietly saying, “Price, Gaz, move away from the door for a sec.”

Wordlessly, they do as they’re told, and you take the opportunity to line up the gun’s aim with the complex electronic panel on the outside of the door and pull the trigger, shooting the most crucial part of the panel, causing it’s functions to disrupt and as a result, the doors open. 

“Thanks for that,” Gaz breathes out as Price kicks open the door, his voice cut off a bit at the end as he takes his hand off the PTT button too quickly in order to follow after Price. 

“Uh huh. Of course,” You say offhandedly, taking your eye away from the scope of your sniper rifle and listening to the loud sirens go off in the facility the others break into, and push yourself up so that you can sit up straight to properly watch it. You grunt as you sit up, stretching your arms out for a moment before letting them fall into your lap. 

“Are they in?” Soap asks, curious, his voice a little strained and breathy. There’s no loud gusts of wind coming through his mic anymore, and you look around for a moment, before your eyes catch on to him climbing up a ladder to get to the rooftop adjacent to yours.

Your lips twitch into a smile at the sight of him completely clueless to your presence and you press your PTT button to talk. 

“Yeah, they’re in,” You say, watching as he finally gets to the rooftop, “Didn’t you hear the sirens?” 

You can see Soap’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion for a moment, and he looks around for a moment before finally seeing you on the rooftop directly next to his, and he looks surprised for a moment before a grin splits across his face. You see him press the PTT button on his mic as well. 

“I did, yeah, just wanted tae be sure,” He says into his mic, looking right at you as he does, “It’s a surprise seeing you here.” 

“Imagine how I feel,” You muse, almost to yourself, before looking away from Soap and speaking up, “Ghost, you don’t wanna join us on the rooftops?” 

“Absolutely not,” He replies almost immediately, making you huff out a small laugh and Soap’s grin grow, “I’m perfectly fine on the ground.” 

“Where are you?” You ask, scanning the area around you for Ghost, “I feel like I haven’t seen you this whole time.” 

“I’m just behind the facility,” Ghost hums, voice still a low whisper, “I’m gonna be heading in once Gaz and Price make it to the second floor to clean up the first, in case there’s anyone left.” 

“You’ve been behind the facility this whole time?” Soap’s voice cuts through, surprised by the fact. 

“Mhm,” Ghost hums. 

“It’s a bit boring back there, innit?” Gaz’s voice crackles through, his voice a little breathy, “You can sweep the first floor, by the way. Should be nobody left, though. Pretty sure all the soldiers were just faffing around, not doing much.” 

“Fucking faffing around?” You ask incredulously to yourself, though apparently your voice is loud enough to make Soap chuckle. 

As if he can read your mind, Price’s voice comes through, “Faffing around is just doing nothing or doing nothing particularly productive, [c/n].” 

You sigh and push your PTT button this time, talking into your mic, “You couldn’t just say that, Gaz? You had to say something silly like faffing around?” 

“It’s not silly,” Gaz says, his frown audible, “They were faffing around.” 

“Jesus, fuck,” You breathe out, laughing lightly, “It’s totally silly.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah it is.”

“No it’s—” 

“I just want one day where you two don’t start up stupid arguments like this,” Price’s tired sigh comes through, “Just one day, I beg of you both.” 

“Aw, Captain, we were just faffing around,” You whine playfully, the misuse of the slang making Soap cover his mouth with his hand to muffle his laughter and you hear Ghost groan into his mic. 

“That is absolutely not how you use that,” Gaz says, though you can hear some laughter in his voice—from your very non-British accent saying British phrases, you presume, a small grin gracing your lips at the thought. 

“It sounded natural to me,” You lie straight through your teeth, shrugging even though only Soap can see you. 

“You’re insufferable,” Gaz groans, making you laugh quietly, “Never use British slang again, please.” 

“What if I get a British accent? Will that fix it?”

“Nothing can fix what you’ve said today, [c/n].”

“Well that’s dramatic,” You scoff, “I’ll learn British just for you guys.” 

“Holy shit, please stop talking,” Price’s exasperated voice interrupts the both of you, “You’re both insufferable. Drop it.” 

“… I don’t think I will,” You say defiantly, making all three British people in the same voice channel as you groan in unison, the sound sounding like some sort of middle school choir trying to sing in harmony, “I’ll use Duolingo or something to learn it.” 

“British isn’t a language you learn, you muppet,” Price grumbles, making you snort. 

“Muppet?” 

“It’s someone who’s dumb and clueless and can’t take a hint, like you,” Ghost defines, “And Soap, most of the time.” 

“Daen’t go draggin’ mae into this,” Soap’s voice quickly cuts through, “I haven’t said onything.” 

“Uh, yes you absolutely did, earlier, remember?” Gaz argues, ignoring Price’s protests for him to stop arguing, “About Ghost being stupid with the tea thing?” 

“Oh, I’ll have you all know—” 

“Ghost, don’t start—” 

You listen as the once casual, teasing conversation turns into an argument and chuckle quietly to yourself, knowing that they’d be arguing about this until you all finished your assignment.

[harveywritings92]

[The 1-4-1 are making their way back to their base camp during a blizzard, Ghost is carrying R/n on his back. ]

Gaz, to no one in particular: *tired* how much further till we get back to the base?

Ghost: I don't know. I'm not sure how much longer I can carry R/n for.

[Gaz and Price stop walking look at each other than at Ghost confused.]

Price: R/n has been walking with Roach this entire time.

[Ghost turns around and sees that, yes, R/n is indeed behind him walking with Roach.]

Ghost: Then who the hell is this?!

[Gaz reaches up and pulls the hood off the person’s head to reveal Soap.]

Soap: What? I'll pay you.

[Ghost grimaces drops Soap and keeps walking.]

[callofdudes]

Best idea

Y/n had to go MIA/KIA to keep the 141 safe, once Simon founds out angry cause he mourned for his best friend only to find out their alive and in hiding, demanded platonic cuddles as their “punishment”

Ok, I'm gonna get the brain juices running for this one. Another one based off a story my bestie @itsscromp and I did. But I changed it up. Hope you enjoy, it's longer than I anticipated it being.

Also, I should have fully expected the repercussions of letting you guys vote Egg as a callsign... but I'ma still use it.

Where did you go??

Summary: They thought you were gone, dead. Turns out you were under their noses and a call away the whole time.

Cw: Angst. Nothing much else.

Your mission had gone... Well for lack of a better word it went to shit. Whole thing blew up. An ambush, a bomb, it would be a long road to explain what all in all happened but it did, and now you were paying for it. It had gotten so bad they couldn't pull you from the junction you were stuck in.

You were supposed to be infiltrating an old base which had become home to a drug ring. But no one happened to mention the mines you'd step on and fuck up your leg with. Or the live wire that alerted the whole base after said mine went off.

So now this entire base was up in arms, you have a broken leg and probably other damage. You were lucky your leg hadn't been blown off.

And to be quite frank, these men were extremely dangerous which meant your fuck up was astronomical. The second they found you you were probably going to die.

So you commed into Price, telling him your situation.

"Alright Egg, I'm going to go in on foot and bring you back to the helicopter just hang tight soldier."

"Yes sir." You lay down, catching your breath and willing yourself not to look at your leg because if it felt bad it probably looked bad too.

Not twenty minutes later Price was approaching your form, bending down to check on you. "You broken??"

"Yeah I'm pretty sure... I don't want to look though."

Price nodded, tucking his gun away and grabbed your arms. "Alright, up we go," he hauled you up into his arms, hefting you over his shoulder and going back the way he came. Just... A little quicker this time since things were looking good for the oppositions infantry.

Price brought you back to the helicopter where you were bandaged up. The mission could have been better planned so they didn't end up sending another team out.

Price had the team drop you off near some loading stations far off the location of the base.

"What... Are we doing here??"

Price got out of the helicopter and checked your leg before pulling you out with him. "I can't bring you back to base. It's a security risk if I do..."

You frowned. "What do you mean?? Where am I going then??"

"There's a secure underground safehouse that will keep you hidden. It's got the provisions you need and the people you need. They'll keep quiet and keep you safe. For now, for however long, I need you to lay low."

You opened your mouth to protest but then shut it again. "I understand. Will I get to see the others..?"

"No, you are not to contact them in any way at all. Until I contact you, you are to remain on the downlow."

Your head falls slightly, but you nod. "Alright, I can do that."

Price nodded and patted your shoulder. He picked you up and helped you into the truck waiting for you. "They'll take care of you. I'll contact you as soon as it's safe. If I do not contact you do not contact us. Got it?"

You nod once again, taking the instructions to heart. You wouldn't be able to contact Ghost, Soap or Gaz. You wouldn't be able to contact anyone. But you knew this was for the best.

So with a last goodbye Price closed the door to the truck and the soldier in the driver's seat drove down the empty road out of the landing space.

"How long will we be gone??"

"Until we get the word from Captain Price. Don't worry. It'll be kept under wraps..."

...

Price returned to the base, taking a deep breath and having had time to figure everything out. He immediately called the others into a meeting.

Considering you and Price weren't supposed to be back for the rest of the day, or even two days or more the meeting was seen as urgent.

Ghost was there first, the sergeants following his trail as they came into the office. "Price... What are you doing back?" Ghost asked sternly, hands clasped tightly as if ready for action at a moments notice.

"Relax... There won't be any fighting. I need you all to sit."

Soap threw Gaz a concerned look as they sat. "Where is y/n, are they still out there??"

Price straightened his posture. He didn't exactly want to lie to his own men, but he'd done worse and he knew this was completely for the best.

"The mission didn't go well as soon as we went in."

Ghost frowned. "Didn't go well?? These drug traders could be connected to Shepherd's on power, how did it wrong??"

"Ghost, relax." Price replied firmly. "I realize that we didn't think this over as well as we should have... Their base was much more protected than we originally thought so Egg went in blind."

"So what happened? Did you pull them??" Ghost was growing more agitated the longer they sat there.

"They commed in about an exploded mine and... We couldn't find them."

The room grew quiet. Soap and Gaz shared concerned looks as Gaz spoke up. "Did you do a full search? We're they hidden in the dirt or something and you missed??"

Price shook his head. "Too risky to go on foot and search. We didn't know how many more mines were out there." Only a small white lie, but a lie nonetheless.

Ghost squared in his chair. "Then we need to go find them. What are we sitting here for just waiting-!"

"Ghost, if they are safe they'll comm in. For now I can't risk sending men in there with the base on high alert and their supposed boss on speed dial. So for now we sit down and we wait to see if Egg comes back with anything."

Ghost was boiling up underneath. Feelings of rage that Price couldn't have waiting a little longer. Worry because they left you out there probably still alive... And fear. Because what if you weren't alive.

"I won't make any calls on it now, but this is where we are at so remain patient. I'm doing what I can to sort this out." Price had to rewire this plan to keep all of his men safe. All of his soldiers, including you.

"Dismissed."

The air was tense when everyone left. The idea you were out there alone, still alive and possibly if not injured and with no help. It scared them all.

Gaz was the first to try and get in contact with you. But any of his efforts were proving ineffective.

Soap just had to wait it out. To hope they could find you or you could find them in time.

Ghost... Ghost didn't know what to think. He knew you were capable. He knew if you were alive then you'd comm in. Once you were safe he knew you would make contact. You could protect yourself... He had to believe you would be ok.

That mentality lasted right up until a week later when Price called everyone back in to pronounce you MIA. Stamped on a card to your file and just like that, they truly had zero traces of you.

They were devastated. A week and no turn of anything from you. This is when Simon started to call your phone. Leaving you text messages.

He couldn't sleep because all his thoughts and dreams were of you. Hoping you were ok and alive. That hope was dying, waking up in cold sweats on nights he could close his eyes for even a moment.

Clutching his beating heart while his body rattled with panic, phone pressed to his ear only to hear your voice over the same simple voice mail as ever.

He couldn't be without you. You were a crucial part of his life. Of his mission. He couldn't just abandon that connection. You had to be alive.

Price cut communication with the safe house you were being taken care of. Unless it was an emergency Price knew not of your condition, only that you were safe. He too was worried, bouncing around through meetings and talking with Laswell and this and that and the other thing.

Trying to figure out what to do now that they needed a new plan and how long they could wait to re-infiltrate.

Simon had started leaving you voicemails, not knowing if he'd ever hear your voice again.

"Hey, this is Y/n, I'm currently busy but please try to leave a message so I can get back to you!"

Simon laid awake, staring up at the ceiling as he held the phone to his ear.

"Y/n.... If you can hear me you gotta respond. Please, I don't know if you'll ever hear these again but if you're somewhere out there I know you're alive. Anything, please, I..." He closed his eyes, thinking back to the last time he saw you. Taking off in that helicopter, a pat on the shoulder and a good luck...

"I miss you. And I'm not giving up on you. I'm not." He wouldn't cry... He wouldn't cry. He would not cry.

"I'm going to come find you. I know somewhere you're still alive. Even if their torturing you I promise I won't leave you out there to die you hear me."

Tears rolled down his cheeks and he covered his eyes, curling up on his bed. "I know you hear me...." He choked out. "I know you can hear me...." He stares at the phone. "Please Y/n.... Please, anything..."

He stared at the phone, waiting like you would magically pick up and reassure him even for a second that you were ok and alive and even if you weren't thriving you were still breathing.

But no...

The voicemail lasted for over an hour. Simon laid there, staring at him phone, unable to bring himself to hang up again.

His thumb hovered over the phone. He wanted to say one last thing... He opened his mouth, but he hesitated. His eyes downcast and one last tear rolled down his cheek as he ended the call once again. Only to face another restless night of no sleep.

By the eighth month mark you were pronounced KIA.

Simon had pretty much known by that point. He'd lost his best friend but he had been in denial until Price told them. They couldn't find a trace of you. No body, no tags, no clothes, no weapon. You had simply... Vanished.

Simon continues to mourn all while you were still being held up in that underground safehouse. Sitting on the small rickety bed, watching the higher ranked soldiers also staying watch at the safehouse talk in the other room.

It was beyond difficult. No contact with outside, you ate, slept, the others tended to your leg and occasionally sparred with you to help you back on your feet.

You missed your team. Your friends. Your family.

You listened to every single voicemail Simon sent. You couldn't reply. Couldn't text him back or even pick up the phone for a second to let him know you were ok.

You remained radio silent.

Even as you'd lay awake at night with your phone replaying the voicemail, listening to the recorded lapse of Simon's breathing while he stared at the phone with an empty, sorrowful expression from the other side.

You missed him so much. You wanted to see them again. But you couldn't. Not yet. Would you ever get to see them again?? They couldn't leave you down here forever.

There was a brief knock on your door as one of the sergeants nodded to you. "Food is ready, new supply just came in."

You nod, pausing the voicemail. "Thanks... I'll be out in a minute."

You sighed, turning off your phone and tucking it away, praying that you'd see them soon.

...

Simon had lost you. Didn't even get a chance to protect you. It had gotten to the point where his lack of sleep would lead to seeing figures of you disappear down hallways. In a spark of hope and joy he'd rush to find you only to find nothing...

On the off days he'd run into a recruit or a sergeant wandering the halls. As soon as they would turn around though... The illusion would shatter.

His own mind was killing him from the inside. Sending you hundred and hundreds of text messages. Every morning and night, rants about his day and what he was feeling. If he was going to pour everything out like you'd ever see it he did it now.

Knowing you'd never pick that phone up again, knowing you'd never look him in the eyes again. Knowing he'd never hear your voice or feel your touch or know your comfort ever again.

This drove him further and further into the spiral. Price had never seen Simon beat up the punching bag so much he bled all over it. He'd never seen Simon get snappy and angry I'm split decisions like he did.

He'd never seen Simon grow so desperate and over protective of Johnny and Kyle. Because Simon's new fear was he'd lose them just like he lost you...

This went on for the next three months after that. Nearly a year since you'd died and they were back out on that minefield. A proper plan, a new way in, a new goal.

Simon was desperate to tear that base apart and even find a trace of your body. Even just a piece of your clothing or your signature engraved gun hanging in their armory somewhere.

But in the end he was left with no more questions answered than when he first entered that meeting room eleven months ago.

Simon had followed the trail to the last thread. The main office of that base. Pulling open every drawer and every cabinet.

"Lt stop you're making a mess-!"

"There's got to be a file or something here! There fucking has to be!"

"Ghost stop we found the information we needed. We have the shipments contained the base is clear what could you be looking for??" Gaz asked, trying to understand what had gotten Ghost in such a frenzy.

"A kill list or an interrogation chart. Anything."

"For what Simon!?"

"For Y/n!!" Simon snapped at them both. Breathing heavy as he finishes emptying every drawer in that office.

Price stood silently in the doorway. Enough time had passed. He wouldn't put them through this anymore.

"Come on lads... I think it's time I show you something."

Their attention turned on to him. Simon was almost vibrating with rage and anxiety. He just wanted any knowledge of what happened. He knew you were dead but his soul was restless without knowing. He needed to know...

They left, Price piled them in the helicopter and the ride back was silent. Simon stared at his hands the whole time. Soap fidgeted, knee bouncing and chewing his lip anxiously.

Gaz picked at the loose strap of his gun, also attempting to distract himself from the elephant in the room.

When the helicopter landed they weren't on base. They landed on the small helipad you had been brought to some some before. Price got out, motioning the other three to follow.

"Where are we Price??" Soap looked around, not recognizing the place.

"You'll know soon enough." Price brought them to a truck, talking with the officer in charge of the station before climbing in the driver's seat.

The sergeants got comfy in the back and Simon slipped into the passenger seat. His eyes remained fixed on the passenger window, watching the open land pass by and the fields of undisturbed flowers and wildlife.

What if he had found you here? May you would have liked that better. Surrounded by the flowers and the soft blowing breeze instead of wherever your body lay, ashes or not.

He turned away, fixing his eyes to the dashboard to try and distract himself.

The ride was quiet once again. Lasting about an hour and a half before Price stopped, parking the vehicle outside a small outpost of sorts. It wasn't build very high off the ground and was concealed by trees and wildlife.

"A safehouse. Why cannae we jus' go home??" Soap asked as he jumped out of the vehicle with the others.

"I'd prefer we made a stop here." Price said, leading them to the entrance where surpisingly a soldier was there to bring them in.

"Occupied? Now there's something new." Gaz whispered to Soap.

Simon didn't understand why they were even making this stupid trip. He wanted to go back to base. He wanted to hide once again like he always did.

"Captain Price, welcome back." The soldier shook Price's hand and walked them further inside.

"Sergeant! Their here for you!" The soldier called out, walking to one of the small rooms where you were. Where you spent most of your time.

You looked up. Who was here for you?? Your eyes widened. Them, your team! It had to be them they were back!

You pushed off your bed, leaning into your good leg and moved faster than you had in almost a year. Turning the corner and there they were. Price, Simon, Johnny, Kyle. All of them.

But.... This wasn't the hopeful reunion you'd pictured in your head over and over again. No one moved. The thought of Simon rushing the hug you didn't come true as he didn't move.

Price walked over, embracing you. "Good to see you again sergeant." You hugged him tightly, so good to be held by him, embraced by Price again. You'd missed him so much.

Johnny was the second one to snap out of it, running over and wrapping his arms around you tightly. "What the hell is wrong with you doing this! You had us all sick and worried and heartbroken!!"

"It wasn't my plan... I'm sorry." You hugged Johnny back. "I'm so sorry Soap, I'm so sorry." Johnny couldn't stop his tears, not wanting to let go in fear you'd slip away again.

Gaz followed, hugging you tighter than you'd ever felt him do before. You'd never seen Gaz openly cry but he was balling, sobbing as he hugged you tightly.

"We thought you were dead, captain told us you were dead!"

"I had to do it to protect them... To protect all of us." Price knew this would probably take a bit for them all to come to terms and forgive him for, but it had to be done.

When the others were done cooing and coddling over you, there was just Simon left.

He felt alone. He felt cold and separated. He felt like he wasn't a part of the same bubble as the others... He watched them embrace and kiss and love on you... You. It was you.

You turned to him, but Simon didn't move. He didn't know if he could. He felt so consumed by his darkness and his grief it didn't allow him to step into the light.

He'd consumed himself so much if he touched you he felt he might burn. That you fall like sand from his fingertips and the illusion would shatter...

"Simon...." You whisper, stepping toward him, causing Simon to step back.

You could see the fear in his eyes. The lack of trust, the amount of hurt, the pain he must have went through to have one of his lifelines ripped away and then thrust back into his life suddenly like it was fine.

"I'm... I'm sorry Simon I didn't mean to hurt you. I listened to every voicemail you sent. I knew every text that went through. But I...."

"You could have told me you were fine! You could have told me you were ok!! Bullshit that you couldn't!! Bullshit!!" Simon thundered.

You remained silent. Simon glared at Price. This was his fault. You'd been taken away without warning. He could have kept it a secret he could have carried that knowledge and not been out through a years worth of fire from hell!

Simon threw his gun to the ground, not even carrying as he left again.

"Lieutenant! Simon!" Price called after him as Simon left the safehouse.

You placed your hand on Price's chest. "Don't... It's ok. Let me help him."

Price looked down. But he nodded.

You left the safehouse, finding Simon around the corner huddled up, shaky hands trying to light a cigarette to get his nerves to calm down and his mind to clear up.

"You hid from me." He cursed, acting like he was seconds from spitting your name into the dirt and squashing it. But you knew. You knew inside he was hurting more than anyone else on the team.

You knelt beside him, gently taking the lighter from his hands. "I never meant to hurt you. If I didn't have strict orders from Price I would have contact you right away."

"Why couldn't he have at least told us you were ok. That you were alive."

"I... I don't know Simon, you'll have to ask Price about that one. But I promise I never meant to hurt you. I listened to every voicemail, I didn't give up. I can see the pain it caused you."

You moved closer, slipping into his arms and hugging him tightly. The second you wrapped your arms around him. He felt your weight, your warmth, your heart pounding in your chest against his own.

Simon finally looked at you, tears spilling down his cheeks. He was shattered. So hurt from losing you.

"You fuckin' abandoned me!!"

"I didn't abandon you Simon. You know I would have picked up and came running back even if my leg was missing."

He knew it was true. But he was so... So angry and torn and upset. He wanted to scream and fight and he felt so small and helpless.

The real you.

Not some illusion passing corners or drifting through his peripherals. The you he could touch and hold and protect.

His arms wrapped around you tightly, never letting go of you even once. He didn't stop those tears as he pulled you impossibly closer.

"I'm here Simon. I'm not leaving again ok? I'm right here."

He remained silent, crying as he held onto you. Hiding his face in the crook of your neck. It felt like hours passed. It felt like time slowed. What felt like two hours was twenty minutes when he finally pulled away enough to look at your face.

To see the light in your glimmering eyes, to see every feature of your face that made you, you.

His sergeant. His teammate. His family.

You smiled softly, gently pulling up his mask off his head to cup his cheeks, rubbing your thumb gently over the dimple in his cheek you've seen when he shows you his smile.

"Smudged your paint a little bit," You whisper. "Let's get that fixed." You gently brush your finger over his face, feeling him start to relax at that familiar and missed touch as you fix the paint around his eyes.

"There we go. How can I help Simon. What will help make this better?"

Simon tried to flick away the rest of his tears, huffing softly. "Cuddles. And you are not allowed to say no after what you put me through. This is your punishment for making me go through that shit!"

You chuckle. "Oh, cuddles with Simon, scary. I'll pay the fine, I'll do all the punishment time of cuddles you request. Sound good?"

Simon nods his head.

"Ok, well how about we go inside now? I could use some cuddles too."

You were about to get up when Simon hugged you again. "I'm glad you're ok..."

You smiled softly, kissing the top of his head. "I am too Simon." You help his mask back on and the two of you head inside.

Simon would let out his feelings to Price sometime later when his head felt less foggy. For now, he was content to crash on the rickety old safehouse bed and koala cling to you till kingdom come.

Nuzzling up and holding you tightly, not letting you go for even a itty bitty millisecond.

And you were fine with that. You were glad you could be back with your family. Simon was glad to welcome you back. You'd be serving a lot of cuddle prison time. A strenuous task, but one all too rewarding.

Running your hand down the back of his head, scratching his back to help him relax and set himself at ease.

All he needed was to koala crush your soul into his soul, and then he'd be ok. Slowly, his eyes started to close after the exhaustion of the mission, but he fought to keep them open.

"I'll be right here when you wake up. I promise, I won't be going anywhere." You whisper to him.

"You promise?"

"I double swear it. I won't leave. I'll be right here."

He snuggled you impossibly closer and let his eyes close. He let his mind rest. His heart soak in you and heal. Slowly you could help mend what has fallen apart.

And cuddles were never a bad place to start...