#fellow aros i love you if you're comfortable with love statements; and if not i appreciate you in a non-love way! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

asterdisaster06 · 7 months

Text

i love you ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?

ghost x reader [exes], platonic 141 x reader

1 - 2 - 3 - 4

summary > Soap and Gaz shenanigans

word count > 1.9k

warnings > military inaccuracies

a/n > do you guys ever have so many fic ideas but have to limit yourself to two series only? yeah, that’s me and it’s breaking my heart that i can’t keep up with 10 separate ideas

ao3

The sun shining through the military issued curtains warms your sleeping figure as your eyes flutter open - your brain taking a moment to catch up with your eyes viewing your new room. Your new home. It offers you a sense of comfort alongside loneliness at the thought of the pure solitude you were encased in. At your old base, you shared a room with a fellow soldier and someone you were proud to call a friend, but that isn’t the case here. Here, you’ve yet to truly make any official friends, and you're doubtful that the unease you feel even being on base would let you open up enough to be able to. Trust and friendship is something that you would like to keep separate on the field - most soldiers would - but you suppose it also extends into domestic moments. You find it hard to trust someone after one little conversation ended a relationship just like that.

You shake that thought off like a wet dog to water and push yourself to get up. From what little you remember from the chaos of last night, today was supposedly stealth and sniper training with Gaz. It didn’t trouble you too much considering the connection between Simon and Gaz was a deep trust but nothing beyond simply working together. You had to have that trust with those on your side in this line of work. The job would be ten times more dangerous if you didn’t. You suppose that this training was meant to build that trust between you and the team before an actual mission, but you weren’t entirely sure if you could achieve that with Simon himself.

Brushing your teeth, you stare at the tired figure in front of you. A bruised and battered soul that has never quite healed despite your best efforts, as evidenced by the distinct eye bags and litter of scars across both your skin and heart. Seen and unseen. To the trained eye, you suppose, there was no real difference however. You spit into the sink, letting it run down the drain alongside your emotions. The cabinet holds only the base essentials provided by the base and your medicine that you throw back with a grimace. There was nothing you could truly do to drastically improve your appearance, but you found yourself wishing somehow that you could. You resign yourself to how you look and shake your folded clothes out before throwing them on in preparation for the long day ahead. You mask slips on over your head with such ease that you would

As you lace up your boots with efficiency earned only by doing it repetitively every single day, you hear a knock sound on the door. A gentle thud that almost reminds you of the sound a body makes when it falls to the floor - keyword being almost. A second knock is made just as you reach the door and turn the knob to be greeted with the sight of both Soap and who you assume is Kyle “Gaz” Garrick by his side.

“Rise and shine, Angel!” Soap yells out, and you can almost hear bagpipes accompanying his excitement if you listen carefully. Then again, you could be imagining it.

“Training doesn’t start until eight. It’s six,” You point out, your morning voice still fully fledged. If that wasn’t enough to signify your recent throw into consciousness the yawn after your statement should’ve been.

“He wanted to invite you to breakfast at seven, but also insisted on getting here early enough so you couldn’t say no,” Gaz offers up before he’s jabbed in the side by Soap, much to your amusement.

“I’ll join you guys for breakfast,” You begin, already seeing the start of a grin making its way across Soap’s face. “But, only if you guys join me for my morning run beforehand.”

“Oh, how hard could it be? I bet I could beat you around the compound, Gaz,” Soap teases.

. . .

Soap would soon eat his words, and dirt, as he ended up tripping over air twice on the run. Although, he insists there was a rock that you didn’t see that was out for him. Unsurprisingly, despite the little mishaps at the beginning of the jog, your two future comrades kept up decently with your pace. You suppose they had to if they were able to make it all the way up the ladder into this team.

“How is Soap more clumsy than you, Gaz, but somehow you’re the one that fell out of a helicopter?” You mutter under your breath, realizing your mistake as soon as the words escaped your mouth.

“How did you know that story, love?” Gaz asks, wiping sweat off his face with the back of his hand.

“Word gets around,” You reply quickly. Not a complete lie. It just so happens that word got around from Simon mentioning small, insignificant details about his teammates on missions. Ones that made you laugh way back when.

“Imagine being known only for falling out of a chopper,” Soap teases, nudging Gaz.

“Very funny. At least my hair is regulation standard,” Gaz says, tussling the mohawk of the Scot. Almost like brothers, you notice.

“Oi, lay off you div,” Soap says, his scotticism slipping out.

“I’ll meet you guys for breakfast after a shower,” You say, giving a stretch and a big yawn afterwards.

“Just don’t get lost,” Gaz offers as he waves farewell. It appears that Soap has been spreading stories about your unfortunate meeting circumstances.

“Aye, we’ll save you a seat, LT,” Soap grins with an exaggerated salute.

You roll your eyes with a soft smile painted across your face as you turn to head back towards your living quarters. The dimly lit room offered a muted sense of comfort; although, you were itching to get some pops of color into the bland room. You’d have to check with Price to see how much you could change - considering you were contracted for five years, it would be likely that there was more leeway than usual. Especially given your position, but that could just be the fact your old roommate and you constructed a colorful, sentimental place you were proud to call home. It elicited a faint pang of homesickness within you. You’d have to call sometime soon to update them.

Making sure the door was definitely closed behind you first, you slip off the light mask. Its design reminded you of the weeks leading up to the completion of its construction. You had a few of your fellow teammates to thank for their arts and crafts help - although you suspect that they would rather thank you for the creative outlet. You just consider the fact that all the crayons were accounted for and un-eaten a success. It has become a part of you now, whether you wanted it or not. There was something symbolic about the bird-like nature of its design; perhaps you wished you had wings of your own to escape the hurt. However, that’s more of a therapist's take on what actually occurred.

It was more of an inside joke whenever you were a recent hire to your previous base. There was a mission or two that required you to take a position as a lookout. A bird had started chirping and cawing in your ear, sending extreme confusion over the commsat your attempts to get it to shoo. It was something that your team laughed about after the fact, saying that the bird life chose you. Ergo, your mask reflected the appearance of your feathered friends. The idea of your callsign being reflected in the feathery appearance also made it feel fitting.

You shed your comfortable yet cold clothes and step into the warmth of the shower water, letting it run down your frame into the drain. If you stared long and hard enough at the floor, you could’ve sworn that it held a pink tint. It was a simple hallucination, but it had been real at one point in your life. You choose to close your eyes, focusing on the feelings of your hands running across scars - old and new. Your past life never held these marks, evidence of your suffering. Simon was the only one decorated with the physical damage appearing on his skin a few years ago, but you’ve accumulated more than your fair share of healed wounds.

You wash away those thoughts alongside the sweat and suds down the drain, making way for the amour surrounding your heart. The roughness of the towel as you dry yourself grounds you to reality. You actively avoid looking at the mirror, refusing to look at your scarred appearance that Simon would lose his mind over, as you get dressed. Breakfast wasn’t something that you indulged in as much anymore, not when it was no longer shared with the hugs from behind as Simon stole a piece of bacon. The very thought pained you to your core. You covered it up, swept it under the rug, in a very similar fashion to you disguising your appearance by the mask.

You exit your room, making sure to lock it behind yourself. The beasts cage. You wander the halls until you reach the canteen, quickly scanning the room until your eyes settle on Soap. Or rather, the man beside him. Ghost. There was something about him that had changed from the person you once knew, besides the obvious appearance and behavior due to the environment. Or maybe, just maybe, you never knew him after all. You refuse to believe that you knew the real him, and the real Simon had truly tossed you to the side that easily. It wasn’t something you were willing to accept. Not yet. Not ever.

“Oi, over here Lieutenant!”

There goes your sense of peace and internal argument over whether you could slip out unnoticed and effectively ghost this entire interaction. Your inner turmoil is only heightened by the fact that the choice was made for you - that and the fact that you’re now being perceived by the entire room as you make the walk of shame over to the table. All the eyes on you make it difficult to feel at ease. Even with your mask disguising that particular emotion paired with a heavy wince, your body language undoubtedly exuded your nervous nature.

You trudge over to the table as the group all gives you their own greetings. You have an inkling that Soap had dragged all of the members here for breakfast as a sort of meeting for you. It’s incredibly hard for you to believe that both Price and Ghost were here willingly.

“Goodmorning, Bonnie!” Soap says, the chipper in his voice making you wince slightly.

“Morning, little birdie,” Gaz calls out, seemingly taking a shine to that new nickname.

“Lieutenant,” Is all Price offers up.

Although, it’s more than the intense stare and grunt you got from Ghost. You’re not entirely sure if you’re more offended or relieved by that. You pull one of the chairs out and take a seat near Soap and Gaz. It appears that they weren’t lying about saving you a seat, much to your surprise. On top of that, someone here - you suspect Soap - grabbed you a tray so you could avoid the line. It warmed your heart, a smile sent towards Soap. It’s times like these that you thank past you for constructing the mask in a way that your mouth is exposed enough to speak and eat.

“Hey, Ghost. Have you ever thought about having your mask like that?” Soap pipes up.

“No. I already have enough of my face exposed with the eyes,” He replies gruffly.

“Ah, I suppose that’s true. Angel does have their eyes covered. It’s kinda like the opposite of your mask,” Soap mentions.

A simple hum from the man across the table is all you received. It’s all you or anyone else at the table received the entire time you spent eating with the team. Despite the small talk and inside jokes being created right in front of your eyes. It was so odd, sitting there right in front of the man you used to wake up next to, and him not knowing a single thing. Never noticing. These thoughts plagued you into a simple quiet as you listened to Soap explaining what “mountain chickens” were to Gaz - much to his confusion. The absurdity of the completely domestic circle of fellow soldiers sharing breakfast made you smile, if only slightly. All of it came to an end eventually as each individual had something to busy themselves with throughout the day.

“Well, better not waste any time,” Gaz exclaims, offering you a hand up that you graciously accept.

“Up and at ‘em soldier,” Soap adds.

You were looking forward to the hand to hand combat training against these two. It was a formality but nonetheless you stirred at the opportunity to exhibit your abilities against both men. Prove yourself in some way or another. Maybe even prove to yourself that you do in fact deserve to be here - despite the words ringing in your ears as an echo of Simon Riley claiming you didn’t. Never would. Well, you would prove him wrong. Starting today. Not five years ago - starting today - because now he could see you. You could show him beyond a doubt that you had improved enough to earn a spot on the renowned team. Alongside him - even if he wouldn’t know it. Not yet.

taglist: @abbiesxox

#ao3 #cod fic #cod mw2 #fanfic #mw2 141 #cod 141 #john soap mactavish #mw2 #simon ghost riley #angst #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #platonic 141 #domestic fluff #task force 141 #fluff

75 notes · View notes