⟡ part one, part two, part three, part four, part five //
!!description.
You were always shamed for your ‘impurities.’ Never matter how much you tired yourself out to prove yourself, they always saw the girl that was “too much of this” or “too little that.”
He gave you hope though, made you think—made you believe that you were both doing this for the greater good. “A heart gets in the way of war” he’d tell you.
When you found out the truth—the real truth, you left. And like a shadow he followed. Waiting for the right moment to take what is—was his.
Shortly after, you were recommended by Chief Kate Laswell to join Task Force 141.
You were a misfit an outsider, a nobody. And yet you were able to get recommended to join the best task force known throughout the world.
But how can you be an outsider, in a team full of them?
!!characters.
john ‘bravo six’ price + simon ‘ghost’ riley + kyle ‘gaz’ garrick + johnny ‘soap’ mactavish + philip graves (not endgame)
!!warnings.
fem! reader, black!reader, polyamorous, fmmmm, soapghost, pricegaz, slow burn, enemies to strangers to friends to lovers, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence, discrimination, racism (against reader + others), abuse of power, manipulation ( of love ) more might be added…
contains: mentions and talks of running away, reader being kept in the dark for a second, talks of revenge, talks of past trauma, price is a meany, ghost is ghost, reader has a tiny mental breakdown.
wc: 4.1k
a/n: love this first chapter
a/n 2: listened to ghost in the machine by sza while writing this (i would recommend listening to it while reading !)
Outside, the clouds were dark and gray. Casting a veil over the sun. Hiding light from this part of town. Mimicking your feelings, dark and sad and scared to hell.
Your back ached, carrying heavy boxes filled with memories from your last apartment, and the apartment before that, and the house before that.
The you from three years ago would’ve stripped each and every one of your house and apartments bare. Leaving nothing and bringing everything.
Now as you stand in your third apartment in two years, feeling defeated and tried, you wonder how most of your life can fit into 5 cardboard boxes.
All the memories filled with love, sadness, hate, years filled almost to the brim in 5 cardboard boxes.
You looked away from the depressing sight of your life in those boxes, sat down on the stool that was in front of your kitchen island, and lied your head down on the cold surface of it.
The cold was welcomed. It gave you something to think about, something else to worry about.
Your head was throbbing, pounding as you moaned in pain, your face full of sadness and distress. You felt like after moving so much in such little time, nothing was going your way, and the world seemed cold and uncaring.
Anchovy was curled up next to you, the feline's purr providing you a comforting and soothing presence that only she could provide. You felt her rough but soft paw, gently brushing up against your cheek, her tail swinging softly in an adorable display of cuteness.
Your attention was now drawn to the white Birman, and the feline gave a gentle meow, as if asking you if you’re alright.
You shuddered out a breath and ran your calloused hands over your face, resting your elbows on the island and your face on your hands.
“Fuck . . .” You whispered, running your hand through your hair and pushing it back out of your face at the same time. “This shit can’t get any sadder huh?”
Anchovy meowed again and rubbed her head on yours, her purring loud in your ears.
You laughed and ran your fingers through her fur. “Thanks Cho.” You bumped heads with her lightly and looked in her eyes. She in return, licked your nose.
You smiled and kissed her head, scratching behind her ears.
Disrupting the moment you were having with Anchovy, your phone rang. The sound piercing your ears and the vibrations uncomfortable on your ass. Anchovy leaped from the island counter to your lap as you reached in your back pocket to get your phone.
The contact calling you was no other than your older sister. You swiped to accept the call and held the phone against your ear, petting Anchovy with your unoccupied hand.
“What’s up scales?”
“One,” she snapped, “i am not a fish. Two, I called to warn you. So shut up, and listen.”
You paused combing your fingers through Anchovy’s fur. Vera never called to warn you, and she never sounded so serious.
“What is it?” You questioned. If it was anybody else calling you to warn you about something, you would’ve been fine. But this was Vera. Cold hearted stick-your-head-on-a-pike-if-you-look-at-me-weird Vera. She rarely even calls anybody.
You heard her sigh on the other end of the line. “Mom’s gonna call you. Shes gonna ask you for something, a favor, but you gotta promise me—”
“Mom?” You questioned. “Mom is gonna ask me for a favor? We talkin’ about the same woman right?”
She sighed again, exasperated. “Yes, [name] We’re talking about the same woman. Now listen,” she started, “shes gonna call you, ask for a favor, and you have got to fucking promise me that you hear her out because this will be beneficial to the both of you if you just fucking listen. You understand me?”
You were silent for a few moments. “[name]? [name] I swear to fucking—”
“Yeah, yeah I’m here Vee.” You sighed, rubbing your hands down your face. “You got me stressed now, is something wrong with Mom? Is Ma okay?” You questioned.
“Yes [name], Mom an’ Ma are just fine. Look I’m,” she paused for a few seconds. You couldn’t see her, but you knew she was doing that thing she always does when she’s guilty of something: playing with her ear. “I’m sorry. For worrying you. I just—”
“—want what’s best for me I know Vee. I love you too.”
“Yeah, yeah whatever. And you know I don’t like it when you say it like that.” She grumbled. Ever since you two were little, she would always get mad whenever you would say “I love you too” instead of “I love you” saying it sounded like you agreed with the fact that she loved you.
You let out a small laugh. Smile playing at your lips. “Fine. I love you Vera.”
“You promise you’ll hear her out? Promise me.” She stressed.
“I promise, Vera. Cross my heart an’ hope to die.”
You could hear her smile through the line. “Good. I love you [name].”She affirmed and then the line ended.
You sat still for a moment, worrying, stressing, overwhelmed, was Mom okay? Was Vera okay? The emotion you were feeling right now was equivalent to the feeling of unknowingly being led into a field of landmines by someone you trusted and that person just walking away. Leaving you to your imagination. Would you step on a landmine, Would you walk away with all your limbs intact?
Yes, you loved Vera with your entire heart and more, but a little less suspense would do your mind some good.
Because of this, this field of suspense that Vera trapped you in, you didn’t notice how Anchovy slipped away, likely taking a nap in your room. Not noticing the little things, not noticing how your heart pounded, how your breathing started coming short, how little crescents started to form on the palm of your hands from the onslaught of your nails, how you lip started to bleed from how much you bit it, how—
Your phone was ringing again.
It snapped you out of whatever daze you were in before. Pulling you up from the dark of the unknown. Your mind. Waking you up, making you realize that yes, you were still here, and no, this is not a dream.
You took a deep breath and answered the call, not looking at the caller ID.
“Hello? [name]?”
It was Mom. Why was she calling? Is she alright? Is Ma alright?
“Mom? Whats wrong, are you—” You took a calming breath. “—are you okay?”
She was silent on the other line for a moment. “Did Vera not tell you I’d call?”
You paused. Holding the phone on your ear hearing faint static coming from the other line. Sitting confused for a few seconds.
In more ways than one, the sound of static was like your mind. The mental clutter occupying all the space for any other thoughts or emotions; and like static, they were blurred, unable to piece together correctly. Your thoughts were clouded and confused after the little episode that you had after hanging up with Vera. Right now, all you could hear were a million radio stations all playing at once, constantly intruding on each other and creating an awful, chaotic noise. Your head felt like it was about to explode if you didn’t—
“[name].” Came her calming voice. “[name] can you hear me? Try to breathe sweetheart, you’re alright.”
You did as you were told and took a deep breath, prolonging the exhale. “Yeah—yeah she told me about you callin’ I just,” You took another calming breath. “just had a moment Mom, m’ fine.”
“Another one?” She asked, and you nodded in response even though she couldn’t see it. Either way, she knew. she always did.
“What’d you wanna talk about?” You question, changing the topic. Mostly because you couldn’t bear to talk about yourself. Your problems, your fears.
She cleared her throat. Likely preparing herself for the conversation. “Listen, before you cut me off—”
“—Too late, Mama. Stop beatin’ around the bush. Please. You know how I am about that.” You begged. Brows furrowing as you looked around the kitchen. You stood up and walked to the living room instead. Standing in front of a bouquet of flowers left on the coffee table Vera got you when you moved here. The petals and stems still wet, you need a vase. Anything to distract yourself.
You walked back to the kitchen and reached the too cupboard for a clear white vase. You picked it up with care and starting a search for the flower food you know it came with, you put it somewhere.
She sighed on the other end of the line for the umpteenth time. “You need to face it [name]. Face the fact that he’s still alive and looking for you. Face the fact that you can’t run forever and that you need to look the Devil in his fucking eyes and say “No.””
You sighed and paused your search. Raising your hand to your face and rubbed at your eyes, already feeling a migraine. “Mom—” You find the flower food and bring it and the vase back to the living room. Throwing the food hazardously on the coffee table.
“No, [name]. I love you. You know I love you. Vera loves you and you know your Ma loves you more than God ever could.” She said. She was pleading. For what, you didn’t know.
You stopped in front of the coffee table. The line was silent on both ends for a few seconds. Feeling like minuets, hours.
“Mom,” You worried. “what is this about . . ?”
“I’m sorry, [name]. I just want what’s best for you and—”
“Mom.”
You were gripping the vase so tightly you were surprised it didn’t break under your hands.
You heard her choke out what sounded like a shaky breath and sigh at the same time.
“I put in a permanent spot request for you in a Task Force.” She took a deep breath. To calm herself, you don’t know. You were lost. “You transfer there tomorrow. I was gonna ask for your permission to send the request before hand but after your little episode, how you do things to distract yourself from what’s going on around you, you need structure baby, routine, and the one thing that’s gonna give you that, is by doing this.”
That tight grip you had on the vase got tighter, and tighter, until there was nothing to hold onto anymore. Only broken shards of glass, your blood, and the sound of the vase breaking that closely resembled screams.
Something you wanted to do right now: scream, cry, throw a fucking fit.
“[name], listen—” She didn’t get to finish her sentence. You started a new one, interrupting her.
“You didn’t—” You let out a choked laugh pushing your hair out your eyes blood following, painting wherever your fingers touched red. “You didn’t think, to ask me? Do you know how much trauma and war I’ve been in and seen in the military? Hope much shit I was going through because of him? And you want me to go back? Forcing me?”
“Yes, [name], I know, believe me, I know. But you’re running away. You need to face this and end it.” She sounded so bleak. “I don’t care, I don’t care if you hate me for this, but I can’t keep seeing you like this, baby. I can’t keep seeing you without that light in your eyes, that smile that would never go away, that laugh,” She sobbed. She sobbed. Your Mom, crying her eyes out can be heard from your end of the line. The sound broke your heart. Broke it into tiny pieces, tinier pieces than the pieces of glass on the floor. She sobbed.
“Please, [name], please. I need you to live your life.”
You let out a shaky breath, trying not to let your tears run.
“Please.”
You held your head with your bloodied hand, smearing blood everywhere, unbeknownst to yourself, to try and calm the raging migraine you felt. You let out a sob hushed by your closed mouth and blinked tears away.
“Please . . .”
You sucked in air through your nose, and let it out after five seconds. Repeating the motion twice more.
“Wherever it is,” You gasped out, wiping your nose with your sleeve. “M’ not paying for a ticket there.”
You could hear her smile. And when she laughed a laugh that could make flowers bloom and the sun shine brighter, you let the tears fall. And after the call ended, it was shameful, the cry you let out.
***
"Why are we here Cap? Thought we were done for the day?" Gaz said, rubbing the back of his neck.
Price turns to him from his sitting position across from everybody and facing the door. "Laswell gave me word of—"
"Please—Ma'am you can't go in there! You're not cleared yet and—"
"Do I look like I give a damn? Where the fuck is Station Chief Kate Laswell?"
"She's-"
"I'll take it from here Sophie. Go on back to the Med Wing."
Sophie, they think, sighs and they hear her retreating footsteps. The men inside waited with bated breaths as they wondered who could be outside.
"Word o' wha' Price?" An accented voice asked. Mohawk overgrown a bit and kissing the tip of his eyebrows. Price let out a stressed sigh and leaned on his hands with his elbows on the table in front of him. "You'll see." He responded.
Hushed whispers are all they heard. Unable to make out anything from through the thick door.
Another sigh, and the door handle clicked as it was turned.
Entering first was Laswell. A file tucked underneath her arm as she nodded at Price and sat down next to him across from everybody else. And the new face entering the room now.
What they noticed first. Was not the fact that she noticed Ghost lurking in the corner of the briefing room immediately, her eyes shifting and meeting brown before promptly facing the front, was the fact that she had to duck and shift to the side to fit through the door.
Unmistakable pounds of muscle and healthy fat was standing at attention in front of the Task Force 141.
Something they didn't know what to do with.
Kate cleared her throat. Gaining the attention of everybody in the room and meeting the hard eyes of the woman still standing in front of the door. Waiting. "Everybody." She started, as she handed out the file, much likely the mystery woman's file, to Price. "Meet Colonel [name] [I.name]. Been on the force since eighteen and specializes in stealth, pararescue, close-combat fighting, and," she paused, looking at [name] directly. "she's a damn good sniper too."
Price looked at [name] then back at Kate after a few seconds. "The fact that her record is impressive is why you brought us all here for?" He sighed out. "Laswell, why is she here?"
Kate matched Price's stare with her own. "Because Captain, you need her if you ever want a chance at catching and killing Graves and Shepard." She said.
The room was silent. A chance at catching Graves and Shepard? In the months they’ve been gathering intel, chasing loose ends, and hitting rock bottom, they haven't even scratched the surface of finding the two. Now Laswell is saying this goliath of a woman can help them?
"How is she gonnae help us?" Soap said, turning in his chair and lifting his chin to look at the woman behind him.
But the woman never looked down to meet his eyes. She looked straight ahead and met the eyes of Kate Laswell.
Kate stared at [name] for a hard minute. And only after did she start to speak.
“You can hate it, you can love it, but either way,” Kate said, keeping her eyes on [name], “either way she’s on your team.” In that exact moment it felt as though Kate was talking to [name]. Generalizing the sentence but directing it towards the woman. Kate, looking at [name] still, knew her hands were being clenched behind her back. Nails digging painfully into the skin of her palms. The same skin that was being reopened.
A heavy sigh interrupted the moment. Captain Price rubbing his forehead while looking to the side at Kate. “And we got no say in this matter?” He said after a moment, directing his eyes to meet with yours.
“No, John.” Kate said, walking around the table to the door behind you discreetly touching your back and squeezing. We’ll talk later. “Not even you can change this decision.” Then, she left.
He sighed again. “No offense to you, Colonel,” He said after a moment. He stood and walked the length of the table, like Kate did moments before, to stand in between the space you had between yourself and the table. “But if you want to stay, and yes, I do have a say in that matter, then earn your keep. You hear?” You could hear as hint of venom in his voice, masked by the deep rumble of his voice.
“None taken, Captain.” You matched his stare. “But do you really think the higher ups will take me out the team just because of petty hostility towards a new teammate?”
While you were tall, Price was much taller. Standing straight at what looks like 6’8 from your position and piercing you with a hard sea colored stare. In a situation like this, you were supposed to crane your neck to meet his eyes. Supposed to. However, you kept your face and head straight. Only lifting your eyes to match his stare.
“Only if that temporary presence in this team can’t control their mouth.”
A presence behind you, not close enough to feel their body pressed against you, but enough to imagine it. You knew it was Ghost because of how he snuck up on you. Waiting until you were engrossed in this little staring contest with his Captain to pounce.
Like a shadow.
Only then, did you realize the situation you were in. In the middle of two big men, in a room filled with two more equally big men. What have you gotten yourself into?
“I don’t know Lieutenant,” You turn around partially at the waist to face the man behind you. Eyeing the glaring chocolate eyes behind the pale white of the skull mask. “Life always has its ups and downs doesn’t it?”
- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !
- likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3 !!
a/n: unedited </3 (‘nepenthe’ means something that can make you forget grief or suffering)
hes so nervous when he first meets you omg
like the moment u step into the cafe, hes so nervous and he doesn’t know why
its only when you come up to him to make your order does he realize why his hearts beating as fast as it is, why his palms are sweaty, and why hes hoping he ironed his uniform the night before and brushed his hair this morning
N READER SPACES OUT bc of carmy’s beauty ofc, n carmy tries to make sure reader is okay but then backs out in the middle of worrying yk??
the transition from the numbing cold of chicago to the warm hug of ‘nepenthe’ was something you could get used to; and the cafe definitely lives up to its name.
the thought of the hot coffee that was spilt on your already injured hands, left your mind like a flip switching off.
(i like to think that reader likes hands on activities like sewing, pottery, and playing string instruments <3 so their hands are sometimes always covered in band-aids or rough from callouses)
you just got back from train station after ending your shift early at the business you own and you heard about a fairly new cafe that recently opened up so you decided to check it out.
but if you thought the outside was pretty, the inside blew you away.
The sun shines through the windows casting a perfectly warm and gentle light onto the tables and chairs. The quiet buzz of conversation fills the air as customers gather and talk over a warm cup of coffee or tea.
The scents of freshly baked pastries and warm, buttery croissants waft through the room, inviting patrons to indulge in some delicious treats. Soft music plays in the background, creating a comfortable atmosphere that encourages relaxation and a sense of warmth.
oh, dont forget the very handsome man at the register. cant forget him.
you didnt even notice you had spaced out and were already at the register until he placed a hand on your shoulder.
“shit—sorry—you uh, spaced out and i was just, sorry, what—what can i get for you?”
THIS MAN HAS “i could make that for you” or “i could make that 10x better” TYPE VIBES OMGG
you two might be watching idk hells kitchen for ex and gordon ramsey shows up with the best dish ever. and you could be like:
“that looks so good . . .” you said abruptly. your head resting on carmy’s chest just spending time together. watching hell’s kitchen with him was the funnest and calmest thing ever. doing anything was fun with him.
carmy’s eyes shifted from the show to you, then shifting back to the show.
“I could make that for you.” he replies. hand fiddling with yours, an act thats calming and grounding for him. “could make it way better jus’ f’you” he mumbles under his breath.
you look up from your position on his chest. trying to find his eyes that seem to be avoiding yours after a moment of —not awkward silence— just, silence.
because in reality, behind that silence you’re just drinking him in. this sweet man who offered to cook for you. this sweet man who remembers the tiniest details about you.
“you’d really do that? for me?” you ask him, with that sweet voice of yours.
“gotta prove to you that m’ better than gordan fuckin’ ramsey, so why not? wanna be my taste tester?”
would def have the craziest but most organized grocery list known to man.
like this piece of paper could be three feet long and carmy still find a way to finish in under an hour
if you even TRY to pull out your wallet to help pay, carmy is already leading you outside to his car, receipt in hand before the thought even crosses your mind <3
reader would be sad abt it being too cold and when carmy notices and is js staring at reader with those eyes omg.
poor reader forgot what they were sad about. and carmy loves that he can make you forget your worries. he loves you.
the grocery store was cold. the jacket you were wearing, carmy’s jacket, was warm yes—but for some god forsaken reason, people just loved making grocery stores or any store in general cold as fuck.
you suppose your discomfort in the cold aisle showed because the moment your hands reached for carmy’s, he turned around to hold yours.
“you feelin’ okay baby?” he asks while your poor little mind was confused on how he knew something was wrong when he didnt even look at you yet.
“yeah m’ okay, its a bit cold, and looking at all this food’s making me hungry.” you giggle, and then reaching up to fix a stray curl of hair on his head.
“sorry baby, i can make somethin’ f’you when we get home?” he says, catching your hand in his and kissing your palm, leaving his lips there and looking at you with so much raw, undying love in his eyes.
“i—yeah, yeah, uhm—huh?”
- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !
- likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3 !!
