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@schogotten
O.TBLAE CHAPTER ONE:
Based on THIS initial concept.
Also available on AO3.
Featuring: Captain John Price, Sergeant Kyle âGazâ Garrick, Sergeant Johnny âSoapâ MacTavish, Lieutenant Simon âGhostâ Riley, & Medic GN Reader.
â¨ď¸ This is my first time writing a gender neutral protagonist, so please, if you see something that is gendered in my writing, let me know so I may correct it! â¨ď¸
Overall Warnings: The âcan't keep a medicâ trope, typical COD violence, potentially inaccurate military references, polyamory dynamics, queer romance, gender neutral pronouns for Reader, potential smut (not 100% sure about it).
Synopsis: It's not easy being a member of taskforce 141, never was really, but, with the team finally fully recovered after Soap's near death experience in Los Almas coupled with the men's stubbornness in welcoming an additional squad mate⌠things aren't looking so good for the special operations unit. Thank goodness Laswell is always there to help out her boys, offering them one final helping hand in the form of You, a battle hardened medic who doesn't quite live up to their jaded expectations.
John⌠had a problem. Or really, the brass that he had been standing before had a problem that was, by default, now his. His task force was a well-oiled machine. No one had disputed that. Especially in the early days of Price having put together the 141, but back then, his men and him hadn't been so entangled in one another's lives. There had been a clear line between his care for his men and the job.
But that was then, and this is now. It had been years since his tired eyes had wandered to his charming sergeant, his doting Gaz. Long since the two of them had danced around the inherent military hierarchy and their age difference. They were no longer behaving like schoolyard boys with crushes. And he could say the same about his Lieutenant, Ghost, and his rambunctious sergeant, Soap. The four of them ultimately gravitate toward and around one another in a pleasant orbit.
Soap and Gaz would like to boast that they were the masterminds that brought their little polycule together, but neither Ghost of himself would confirm or deny their lovers.
And in the now of their lives, John was handling the ire of the higher ups as they questioned the teams stability and his control over them, as yet another medic had requested a transfer out of the illustrious 141. In an attempt to keep his men together, John had relied heavily on the brass, turning their even blind eye away from the small transgressions that occurred within many high priority military groups. But they had pushed back one too many times.
. . .
Reader who intentionally fucks up everyoneâs call sign just to piss them off.
It started with Soap (because what kind of nickname is Soap?). You thought it was infinitely funny that all these big, bad, serious military men were going around calling their comrade soap. So obviously your first instinct was to bully him, sue you!
âYou cominâ, suds?â You honestly didnât mean to say it out loud, but youâd been calling him it in your head for so long it was bound to slip out.
Everyone stops short, ââŚsuds?â Soap questions.
You giggle a little to yourself, your joke finally revealed, âyeah! Cause likeâŚsoap makes suds.â
Heâs confused for a second before he joins the bit like he always does, âaye, soap does. Wanna see my suds, if ya ken what I mean.â He wiggles his eyebrows.
The team groans, âoh, come on, Soap! Gross!â
âWhat! The birdie started it!â
Ghost was the next victim. AgainâŚweird nickname. He was so serious and emo all the time, and then he walked around with a skull mask and skull gloves with a name like ghost? He needed to be teased. He was begging for it.
âOkayâŚwhatâs the plan, Boo?â
He looks disgusted. âWhat did you just call me?â
You say it again but jump at him a little and flash your hands, âBoo! YâknowâŚlike scaryâŚlike a ghost.â
âSounds like a pet name,â you can tell his lip is probably curled under his mask.
âIt is!â You donât deny.
He looks away and continues the planning. Soap snorts.
Your captain had no nickname, which honestly you didnât think was fair, so you burdened yourself with the task of bestowing one upon him.
You pull it out once he ends up pulling off some, frankly, crazy maneuvers. âWoo! Way to go, Bill!â
He turns to stare confused, âwho the fuck is Bill?â
âYou are!â you smile unabashedly, âlikeâŚthe price you payâŚwith a dollar bill.â
âWe donât use those here, love.â
ââŚirrelevant.â
He rolls his eyes and walks away.
Now Kyle, lovely Kyle, had a fairly normal nickname (bless him), but you still decided to change his.
âHey, Gas.â
âHey, whereââ he stops and blinks, tilts his head slightly, âdid youâŚcall me gas?â
âYup! Itâs what I thought they were calling you when I first got here.â
He shakes his head incredulously, âyou canât call me gas.â
âWhat? Would you prefer petrol?â You think youâre funny.
âYouâre incorrigible.â He stands to leave.
âI have other options! Gas wait! What about garr-bear? Gas come back!â You run after him.
They hate you. (No they donât.)