Soap who is sick of being the only omega in his pack so he’s digging up some dirt on another Sergeant that he suspects of being an omega. They’re just too placid sometimes, cows too easily when the alpha’s start to show off. Finds a dodgy medical record in their files.
Then he breaks into their private belongings. Finds a little pill box. Unassuming to look at, but he’s played the game. So he flushes them, right before they’re due out on a mission with the other three (Johnny’s got an assignment, he’s a little miffed he can’t be there).
He’s entirely surprised when his alpha’s return, slightly sheepish on Kyle’s end, unbothered on Simon’s, and all-too-proud of himself on John’s, with a slightly woozy and freshly-mated omega in tow.
Poly!141 (Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz) x Reader, where the team gets false intel that you’re a traitor. They interrogate you, torture you, break you. Then… they find out you were innocent all along. And the guilt hits like a freight train.
⚠️ TW: torture, betrayal, emotional and physical abuse, trauma, suicidal ideation, mental breakdown, dark themes. This is meant to explore emotional impact and consequences — not glorify it.
“You didn’t even hesitate. That’s what hurts the most.”
They didn’t tell you why.
You were yanked from your bunk at 3 a.m., still in your t-shirt and boxers, bare feet scraping against cold concrete as Ghost slammed you into a wall.
You remember the panic — confusion turning into terror as a bag was shoved over your head. The sound of Zip-ties cutting into your wrists. A voice — Soap's — muttering under his breath, “Didn’t think it’d be you.”
Then came the cold room.
No windows. One chair.
Concrete walls that echoed your screams back to you like mockery.
You didn’t know what was happening.
All you knew was that the men you loved were staring at you like a stranger.
Day 1.
You’re slapped awake. Ghost.
His mask is impassive. His grip isn’t.
"Tell me who you're working for."
"What—Simon, please—I don’t know what you’re talking about—"
A punch to the ribs. Another.
Your breath comes out in wheezing gasps. You see black for a moment.
Gaz stands in the corner. Silent. Not meeting your eyes.
Price lights a cigarette. Doesn’t even look at you.
"Satellite intercept caught your comms. Secure line. Russian channel. That’s not protocol, soldier."
“I didn’t do that,” you gasp. “I swear to God, I didn’t.”
"You expecting us to believe that?" Soap spits. "We found encrypted flash drives under your bunk."
You feel the world tilt sideways. “I didn’t—those aren’t mine!”
Ghost grips your jaw, hard enough to bruise. “Lies won’t help you now.”
And the door closes.
Leaving you in darkness.
Day 3.
The bruises don’t hurt as much anymore.
Or maybe you’ve just stopped feeling them.
They haven’t given you food. Water comes from a hose on the floor.
You're curled into yourself like a wounded animal.
They come in again. This time, it's Price. Alone.
He kneels beside you, and for a second your heart jumps — you think, Maybe he believes me. Maybe he’ll stop this.
But he just holds up a photo.
A man you’ve never seen.
“This operative died 12 hours after your supposed recon mission. Want to explain why your voice was on the comms log?”
“I don’t know him.” Your voice is a rasp now. “Please. Please, John, you have to believe me.”
And he looks at you then — eyes colder than the steel walls.
"You broke us."
And that hurts more than anything they’ve done to your body.
Day 5.
You stop fighting.
You’ve told them everything. Everything you could possibly say. There’s nothing left.
They want a confession.
They want you to bleed guilt.
But you don’t have any to give.
So you shut down.
You stop crying. Stop pleading.
You stare past them when they talk.
You flinch when they come near.
You wonder if death might be a mercy.
Soap notices first.
He comes in alone. Sits down across from you.
You barely move.
“You stopped talking,” he murmurs.
You blink.
"You always talked too much." He forces a smile. It doesn't reach his eyes. “Remember when you snuck into my bunk and put salt in my coffee?”
You stare at the floor.
“Why didn’t you just tell us the truth?”
You finally look at him. Eyes bloodshot, face swollen and gaunt.
And you whisper:
“I did.”
And something in his face cracks.
Day 6.
The door slams open. Something’s wrong.
Shouting in the hallway.
Footsteps. Rushed. Heavy.
Price enters, holding a laptop.
His face is pale.
Ghost and Gaz follow. They look like they’ve seen a ghost.
"New intel came in," Price says slowly. He sets the laptop on the table.
You can’t lift your head.
“It was all falsified,” Ghost mutters. “The whole comms trace. The flash drives. Even the op photo.”
"Someone framed you," Gaz whispers. "You're innocent."
You laugh.
A wet, broken, bitter laugh that turns into a sob.
Your body trembles with it. Not relief.
No.
Just… nothing.
You’re empty.
They unshackle you. Bring you to medbay.
They try to talk. Apologize.
Price kneels beside the bed, his voice hoarse. “We should’ve known. You’d never betray us.”
Ghost can’t even look at you. His gloved hands shake.
Soap sobs into your blanket. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing. I—I thought—”
You turn your head away.
You speak for the first time in hours.
“None of you even hesitated.”
Silence. Thick. Suffocating.
“You didn’t ask me. You didn’t trust me. You just… believed I could do that to you.”
Price places a hand on yours. “We were fed lies. We were wrong—”
You yank your hand away.
“I would’ve died for you.”
Your voice is a scream now. “And you left me in the dark and watched me fall apart. You let me think I was nothing.”
They don’t respond.
Because there’s nothing to say.
You don’t sleep for three days.
They keep trying to reach you. Gentle touches. Apologies.
But you keep the wall up.
Because how do you love someone again when they watched you break and didn’t stop it?
How do you come back from that?
Soap tries first. He sits by your bed every night. Tells you about stupid jokes, old memories.
Gaz brings you books. Movies. Sits in silence when you don’t want to speak.
Ghost watches from a distance, guilt carved deep into every glance.
Price… he cries once.
You wake up to him holding your hand. Silent tears running down his face.
But still. You don’t move.
Because some wounds run too deep.
And you don’t know if they’ll ever heal.
“I loved you.”
“We still love you.”
“…Then why did you destroy me?”
retired!john price who never looked back once finally leaving the military to spend the rest of his life with you, the gentle gleam of his wedding band occasionally catching his eye, making his chest feel warm.
retired!john price who moves to the countryside of england with his precious bird, years of hard labour and deep rooted exhaustion finally seeping from his body as he learns to unwind, recline back with his missus and simply take life one day at a time.
retired!john price who slowly grows more pliable under your touch, hard muscles slowly buried beneath the soft pudge of his stomach, biceps and thighs, your head resting more comfortably against his shoulder than it ever has as the two of you fall asleep in each others arms each night.
retired!john price who learns to enjoy hobbies he had long discarded after enlisting, reading next to you in the living room as snow falls gently from the sky and the fireplace crackles, perhaps tediously sawing at wooden planks under the harsh summer sun, sweat rolling down his back as he works on the new dining table. he lifts his head, unable to stop the soft upward curl of his lips as you walk towards him with a plate of freshly cut watermelon, sitting on the deck of your property and watching the clouds roll by with you at his side.
retired!john price who gathers you in his arms, the stinging of unshed tears burning behind his eyes when you break the news of your pregnancy to him, large hand splaying across your stomach as he pulls you close, gentle lips pressing against yours.
retired!john price who’s forehead no longer creases, furrowed brows instead replaced with a content smile, crows feet leaving behind a permanent reminder of his newfound happiness.
retired!john price who’s eyes shine with love and adoration as he pauses his dish washing to watch you quietly hum to yourself, nursing your newborn child against your chest who is gently suckling with bleary blue eyes. just like his.
retired!john price who’s heart that was once fuelled by violence and bloodshed finally content and full because of you.
I really want to write a poly 141 au loosely based on 'Ready or Not', but I don't know if I have the time (or ability).
I'm picturing reader marrying one of the boys, either Gaz or Soap. Either of them could be charming, winning you over, just a little vein of that too-bright intensity thrumming under the handsome face and sweet words.
Whoever it is (leaning towards Gaz), they bring you to meet the rest of the lads. 'Just a little ritual we have,' he'd reassure you. 'Just meet the squad, play some games, get to know each other.' You mean so much to him! And they do too, so naturally you should meet.
You'd have dinner together, a little awkward as the big guy in the mask just wouldn't stop staring. Wouldn't stop making comments that err just the wrong side of unsettling. Johnny, too. He'd be overly familiar, shockingly handsy, but your husband just wouldn't react. Instead, he'd lean back in his chair, fingers stroking yours as he did little more than watch. And the Captain... You'd feel weighed and stripped under his gaze. You came hoping for their blessing, hoping to please Kyle, but the approval in John's eyes would glint with something hungry.
Your shaking hands would pluck the 'hide and seek' card from the box, and Kyle would coo false comforts in your ear while the others at the table perked up. Bloodhounds catching a scent. You just have to make it through the night, that's all. There are lots of places to hide around the cabin, in the forest. They'd even give you a head start!
Of course, you don't stand much of a chance. You'd hold out surprisingly long, and there'd be a few near-misses. But eventually, your luck would run out...
I'm not sure how to go about it, how to show the violence (since obviously reader survives! But i kind of want a slasher vibe too?). And once they catch you, the real fun begins 👀🖤 (obvs this is going to be dark).
___________________________________
Anyway, I'm swamped with finishing other fics on my list. Don't know if/when I'll get around to this.
A boomer with feelings - Cpt. John price x Reader.
This fic is inspired by @everythingisalwayswipsueme beautiful brain 🧠! Enjoy!
⸻
John Price had made one catastrophic mistake.
He’d downloaded TikTok. It started innocently enough. Kyle had sent him a video. “Sir, just download the app. It’s easier than sending links.”Five words. Five stupid words.
Now it was two weeks later, and John Price was lying awake at one in the morning watching videos of someone pressure-washing driveways.
Then military edits. Then cooking videos. Then relationship advice. Then…
Relationship trauma. The algorithm knew too much.
⸻
One evening he was curled up beside you on the sofa while you showered upstairs. His phone buzzed.
“People you may know.”
Your username appeared. He smiled. “Didn’t know they used this much.” He tapped. Your current account was adorable.
Cat videos.
Random recipes.
You dancing terribly while making coffee. His lips twitched. Then he noticed a link in your bio.
Old account.
Curious, he clicked.
⸻
The first video hit him like a train.
“I genuinely hate my boyfriend.”
John froze.
Next.
“I wish he’d disappear forever.”
Next.
“Being with him makes me feel disgusting.”
Next.
“He makes me hate myself.”
Next.
“I’m so tired of pretending everything is okay.”
His stomach dropped. There were hundreds.
Hundreds. Video after video after video.
Crying.
Angry rants.
Sleepless nights.
“I wish he’d just die.” John stared at the screen. His chest felt tight. “…Christ.”
⸻
He couldn’t stop scrolling.
Every video sounded like…
Him.
He worked too much, missed anniversaries, forgot dates, didn’t compliment enough, sometimes disappeared on deployment. He’d always worried he wasn’t enough.
Now…
Apparently you agreed.
⸻
The next morning—
The briefing room. Price looked like absolute death. Of course Ghost noticed immediately.
“…You look like shite.” Soap nodded. “Ye look like ye’ve buried someone.” Kyle frowned. “You alright, sir?” John rubbed a hand down his face.“…Need to show you something.”
He slid his phone across the table. Soap watched one video.
“My partner.” Another video played. “I hope he never comes home.” Soap’s eyebrows shot up.“Oh, absolutely not.”Ghost looked murderous.“The fuck?”Kyle blinked. “They’ve…they’ve never acted like this around us.”John just stared at the table. “I didn’t know.”
Soap slammed the phone down. “No.” Ghost stood. “We’re going.” John looked up. “…Going where?” Ghost was already grabbing his jacket.“To your house.”Kyle sighed. “We should probably hear them out.”Soap looked scandalized. “Hear them out? They’re wishing the captain dead!”
John stood slowly.
“…Need answers.”
⸻
Twenty minutes later— Your front door swung open. You blinked. “…Why are all four of you standing on my porch?”Ghost folded his arms.
Soap looked furious. Kyle looked deeply uncomfortable and John wouldn’t even meet your eyes.
You frowned.
“…John?”
There was silence for what felt like 30 minutes. Finally he spoke. “…Did I do something?”
“…What?”
“You can tell me.”
“What are you talking about?” He handed you his phone. You looked down. “Oh.”
“…”
“…”
“…OH.”
Your eyes got bigger. “Oh my God.”Nobody spoke. You started laughing. Soap looked offended. “What’s funny?” You looked at John. “Babe.”He looked miserable. “…Yeah.”
“Read the date.”
“…”
“…What?”
“The date.”
John frowned. He looked.
Then looked again. Tiny grey text underneath the username. August 2022.
He blinked.
“…”
Your smile slowly disappeared. “…John.”
“…”
“…John.”
He kept staring.
Then swiped.
Every video.
His ears slowly turned red.
Ghost leaned over.
“…”
Soap leaned over.
“…”
Kyle leaned over.
“…”
There was a very long silence. You finally asked— “…You thought…” John closed his eyes. “…Aye.”
“…You thought these were about you?”
“…Aye.”
“…”
“…”
Then you burst into laughter. Not a little giggle. Full-body, wheezing laughter. You had to lean against the doorframe. “Oh my God!” Soap looked between the two of you.
“…Wait.”
Kyle squinted.
“…That was your ex?” You nodded “the abusive one.”Ghost’s expression changed instantly.
“…”
Soap slowly looked back at John.
“…Captain.”
John refused to look at anyone. “…Don’t.” Soap started laughing too. “No, no, no—”
Ghost actually snorted.
Ghost.
Snorted. Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sir…” John muttered, “…I know.”Soap wiped tears from his eyes. “Ye marched us over here because ye cannae read a date?”
“I said don’t.”Ghost’s shoulders were shaking. “The old man got cyberbullied by archived posts.”
“I said—”
“Archived.”
“I know!”You stepped forward, still grinning, and cupped John’s face. “You absolute idiot.”
“…”
“I’ve been with you since 2024.”
“…”
“How could posts from 2022 be about you?”John opened his mouth.
Closed it. Opened it again.
“…Didn’t…think.”“No,” Ghost agreed dryly. “You really didn’t.”Soap was still laughing. Kyle had actually sat down on your porch because he couldn’t breathe.
You kissed John’s forehead. “For the record…” He finally looked at you. “I adore my current boyfriend.”His cheeks somehow got even redder.
“…Yeah?” “I make TikToks about you too.” His eyes widened.
“…You what?”
You pulled out your phone. Opened your current account. Scrolled.
“When your boyfriend brings you tea before you’ve even asked.”
Next.
“POV: your grumpy military boyfriend secretly loves cuddles.”
Next.
“He’s pretending not to smile.”
Next.
“My favorite person.”
John stared. “…Oh.” You smiled softly. “Those are about you.” He looked like someone had physically restarted his brain.
Soap groaned dramatically. “Oh, that’s disgustingly sweet.” Ghost headed back toward the truck. “Crisis over.” Kyle patted John’s shoulder.
“…Maybe next time read the timestamp before assembling the task force.” John sighed so heavily it sounded painful. “…I’m deleting TikTok.”
simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader x fwb!johnny ‘soap’ mactavish - bet
suggestive content, no explicit smut
₊˚.༄:፣ 𓏲࿐࿔ ˚˖° ₊˚.༄:፣ 𓏲࿐࿔ ˚˖° ₊˚.༄:፣ 𓏲࿐࿔ ˚˖° ₊˚.༄
𓏲࿐࿔ ˚˖° ₊˚.༄:፣ 𓏲࿐࿔ ˚˖° ₊˚.༄ 𓏲࿐࿔ ˚˖° ₊˚.༄:፣ 𓏲࿐
- it was a bet that you and johnny had agreed on amidst rapid gunfire, the smell of gunpowder lingering in the air, fuelled by purely adrenaline and your will to survive.
- you had almost won. almost.
- the two sergeants were always bickering, two friends that seemingly never seemed to get along from an outsiders perspective. those that were close though, knew that it was all in good nature.
- ghost had been there too, grumbling over the comms as you two argued back and forth, warning you that you were biting off more than you could chew.
- oh, if only you had listened.
- now here you were in soap and ghost’s shared quarters on base, sat on your knees before the sergeant with the lieutenant lazily leaning against the headboard of his bed as he occasionally glanced up from his phone to look at the two of you with emotionless eyes.
- the pretty black collar around your neck felt heavy as soap ensured he was able to fit two fingers between the leather and your skin, grinning down at you triumphantly while gripping the silver chain in his other hand.
- “this is degrading”
- “a deal’s a deal, lass”
- you wanted nothing more than to slap the smug bastards grin clean off of his face, cheeks flushed red in humiliation.
- he seemed to take pride in watching your face heat up, seeing the tears in your eyes as he talked down on you. prick.
- “might jus’ have to bring this in t’the bedroom with us next time”
- ghost scoffs at johnny’s words, returning his attention back to his phone with clear disinterest.
- this wasn’t anything new. he had grown used to the shenanigans that occurred within the confines of his shared living space.
- it’s why he rarely spent his free time there to begin with.
- soap stands, dropping the leash to the floor as he makes his way to the entrance of their barracks, momentarily glancing over at ghost from over his shoulder .
- “keep the lass in line, aye? still got a debrief te attend,” soap muses before shutting the door behind him.
- sneaky fucking bastard.
- the silence in the room is loud, your heart rate rapidly picking up at the sound of rustling behind you, not daring to look back at the large man as his shadow slowly approached, swallowing your kneeling figure in darkness from the dingy ceiling light overhead.
- “c’mon pup, we’ll teach you some new tricks for johnny, yeah?”
- the disinterested gleam in simon’s eyes has all but vanished, hidden lips pulled in to a faint smirk beneath his black balaclava that you can barely make out when you finally meet his gaze.
- perhaps ghost doesn’t mind the mischief you and johnny get up to after all.
- kyle ‘gaz’ garrick who glares with no trace of sympathy in his dark eyes when anyone dares objectify you in the work place, squaring his shoulders and standing straighter
- what is usually a soft and warm gaze turns dark and menacing. stone cold and unforgiving
- he knows you can handle yourself. he’d only ever step in if you signalled - but that doesn’t mean he can’t silently convey his disapproval
- he overhears the way a new recruit speaks down at you, talking over you and completely overpowering the conversation, leaving no space for you to intervene. it’s a completely one sided exchange
- you can feel kyle behind you before your ears are even able to register the sound of his footsteps
- the familiar smell of his cologne fills your senses, his chest close enough to almost be touching your back
- “go on, why’d you stop?”
- he’s tilting his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at the rookie in front of him
- gaz smirks when the soldier in front of you quickly shuts his mouth. you have a death wish if you choose to mess with any of the 141 members, and he’s not naive enough to cross that line
- gaz watches in amusement as the recruit scurries away, shrugging his shoulders in feigned innocence when you glare back at him
- “i wonder what’s got him in such a rush?”
- he’s a cocky bastard, but he’ll be damned if he lets anyone get away with treating you like that
