1k. Captain John Price x Reader. Fluff with a dash of angst. How does a SAS Captain work through the pain of keeping secrets from those he loves when their lives may be in danger?
The first time John Price kept a secret was when he was 5 and he accidentally broke a glass at his parents house. He hide the pieces under the fridge until he felt so bad that he ran crying to his mum. She kissed his scratched palm and helped him clean it up and he never kept a secret from her again.
32 years later and he cannot count how many secrets he’s had to keep. He misses when secrets were just broken glass under a fridge and kisses behind school buildings. Now they were a terrorist threat on the route his mom took to her book club or having to lie saying it was so lovely that she made a nice friend named Mrs. Laswell who she was going on vacation with to the states for the next month.
That was only in the beginning of his career in SAS. Since than his mom had passed, a month after his promotion to Captain. Now secrets involved sneaking cigars on helicopters, taking an extra MRE or three, and contacting Nikolai for monthly poker nights.
He swore he never again would put himself in a position where he would have to keep secrets from a person he loved. A threat being kilometers away from his mother while not being able to do anything about it made his heart ache. It was the first time he really begged Laswell, six months after knowing her if she would look past the red tape just once for him. He still owes her, and her wife a very big favor for that vacation for his mom.
He swore, he really did, then he met you. You who had never been touched by the darkness of the world. You whose hands were clean of blood. You who he fought the badness of the world so that it would never touch you. Price really considered walking away, the fear of having to keep secrets from you too heavy, but after you smiled when he first brought you flowers, and tilted your head back in laughter when he confessed he was allergic in between sneezes, he couldn’t. When he finally worked up the courage to tell you what he did for work, you held his hand squeezing it gently saying it didn’t change anything, and he melted. You made love together for the first time that night. It was perfect. It was worth it.
Until he got a call. It was rare when a major city in a first world country was at threat. In fact it had been years, so a call saying that his task force was being shipped off to London, with enough ammo that would’ve protected them in an active war zone, was jarring. Even worse when your number popped up on his phone after knowing he couldn’t say a word. He listened to the daily voicemail about your day ahead feeling his experienced hands begin to shake as you laid out your full day in the city.
The city they were now landing at, packs and vest heavy with ammo, weapons loaded and ready. If he told you to get out you’d ask why, you’d tell your friends, you’d pack up your cat Merlot, you’d tell your sister and they would tell friends, it would cause a rampage.
If he told you, and someone else found out, he would be done, he never again would be able to protect the world from evil, and that’s something he wouldn’t be able to live with, as much as the thought of losing you.
The mission had always been first. Even when he begged Laswell to break all of the rules, to get his mother somewhere safe, he followed through with the mission.
Now all he could imagine was your crumpled body in the middle of the street, another unfortunate result of not being fast enough, of not getting bloody enough to protect you.
Thoughts swirled as they landed, a helicopter in the middle of the goddamn city. Running down the street he focused hard on the voice in his ear, the pounding of his men’s feet. Not the first pub you went to together, or the park where you held hands for the first time, or the cinema where you cried watching the rerun of Titanic and he refused to admit he was wiping away tears as Jack and Rose united in death.
Captain Price shook his head. It’s 11am, where did you say you were going to be at 11? A brunch place with a friend, about ten blocks behind them and growing in distance. His shoulders fell as Ghost kicked open a door, Gaz and Soap trailing in clearing it out.
The mission went well. The only blood that was shed helped the rest of the world, and at least for now the city, stay clean.
He hated keeping secrets. So for the first time in his career he laid on your chest and murmured his confession of guilt and fear. And you pressed his bloody palm to your lips and told him everything was going to be okay. That you weren’t broken, that you could set up safety plans, you could learn how to fight, you could create go bags, you could teach Merlot how to be an attack cat.
You could share the weight. You didn’t need to know what street the terrorist was plotting to attack but you could know what to do incase it happened.
He kissed you that night without feeling like somehow it would be the last. Every secret didn’t have to hold the weight of your life anymore. It would still take some getting used to, he still kept every voicemail and checked his will before every mission, but he didn’t shove his fear underneath the fridge anymore. He ran to the person he trusted and you faced it together.
6 years later and you cannot count the secrets he’s kept from you. Sneaking your children extra candy and ice cream after dinner. Saying yes to letting them stay up a little later to play flashlight tag in the field behind your little farm house with the uncles from 141. Pretending the wiggling bulge in the front of his jacket wasn’t a little white kitten he lovingly named Pinot.
Some secrets didn’t have to have the weight of a life attached to them and those were the sweetest of them all.
note; klepto!wilbur has been on my mind for days !! i luv him sooo much and just had to write this :p
tags; @koithelittle , @eyluvu , @wilburstamagotchi ask or dm to be added!
⤷ gn!little + ghost!little, comfort/fluff, very brief mention of passing
you woke up in a groggy state, laying on a random bench in the local park. you didn’t know how or why you ended up there, but you did notice one thing; a new locket around your neck.
your hand clutched the small locked quickly, finding something to try and keep you distracted from being in an unfamiliar place. you had only ever visited the park with a cg, never alone.
“hello?” a sudden voice startled you, looking around in a frightened state to try and find the source of it. a taller figure slowly approached you, kneeling down in front of you and removed their hood.
“you okay there, little one?” the man’s voice was soft, stretching a hand out for you to take, a light smile forming on his face. “you can trust me.. i’m here to help.”
you always knew never talk to strangers and never to just go with them, but something about him was different. you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, simply wearing a skeptical expression as you stared down at his hand.
“let me introduce myself, okay? i’m wilbur.” he moved to sit next to you, making sure to keep some distance so you could warm up to him. “i’ve met many people like you. this is all so.. confusing, i know.” he lightly chuckled, watching as you smiled slightly and looked up at him.
“i’m.. y/n.” your voice was quiet and hesitant, but it was still enough for his smile to grow wider. “i love your name. it’s one of a kind around here, isn’t it?” he gently tapped your nose, earning a giggle from you.
“you wanna go for a walk? the playground is a bit dirty right now.. someone needs to clean it up for the little ones.” he reached a hand out to you again, watching as your own wrapped around two of his fingers. “off we go?”
of course, he knew what he had to do. it always upset wilbur whenever a lost soul was stuck in a little mindset, he never knew how to properly explain to them what happened and why they were there. but something about you made him wanna keep you around.
by the time he had reached your destination, he quickly covered your eyes. “don’t look, okay? i gotta clean up something.” he gestured for you to turn around, which you did, covering your eyes as you listened to the shuffling of feet atop of leaves, and him lifting something.
“you can look now.” you quickly did so, turning around to see a small run down shed, a spot where the leaves looked smushed, and him awkwardly standing in front of a well. “so.. you wanna help me decorate it? could make it your little hang out.” he lightly tapped the side of the shed, watching as your eyes lit up at the idea.
thankfully wilbur had a few things in him, mostly just his coat you could use as a blanket for now, and a keychain you could play with. he sat you down on a barrel inside the shed, using an old broken broom he found to sweep out the insides.
“how does fairy lights sound? little book cubby and stuffed animal bin maybe? if i clean up that window sill, i could maybe turn it into a nap spot.” he was mostly speaking to himself, but would glance over at you to see if you approved of his ideas. “and maybe.. when you’re big again, i can explain what’s going on. yeah?” you nodded at his words, not fully understanding what he was talking about but.. you’d understand at some point.
“it’s getting late. you can see the stars outside.” he sighed and shut the shed door, pulling the small string that attached to a faulty light. “you wanna stargaze before bed?” you nodded eagerly, hopping up into the dusty window sill, your hands pressed against the window as you looked up at the sky.
wilbur could feel himself smiling more, walking up behind you and gently wrapped his arms around you in a hug, his chin on your shoulder. “want me to stay?” he whispered to you, earning a smile and light head pat from you, which he took as a yes.
“alright.. i’ll stay. just don’t cause me too much trouble.” he chuckled lightly, before kissing your head and turned his attention to the sky, watching as you pointed out different constellations and shapes in the stars.
Happy Father's Day. I broke my own heart writing this. This is purely self-indulgent and only those who have lost a father or father figure I think will truly understand the emotion in this. This is a description of a platonic relationship. Please use discretion when reading as it has brief mentions of grandfathers, stepfathers, and biological fathers passing away by heart attacks and suicide. No graphic descriptions but mentions of blood. I listened to this the entire time I wrote. Enjoy <3
That's My Girl
1.2k She had lost every father figure in her life, so what was she supposed to do when her Captain rumbled praises to her which simultaneously broke and healed her wounded heart. And what is she supposed to do when he takes a bullet in his shoulder?
She had struggled with the lack of a father figure in her life since she was a girl. Her grandfather stepped up when she was little, he had already been a constant in her life, but once he had cemented himself in it he died soon after. Her stepfather came into her life in a whirlwind of emotion and she wasn’t sure how to feel about a person her mom preferred over her when it suddenly didn't matter anyway as he died of a heart attack when she was ten. Her uncle didn’t know she existed and from what she had heard he preferred it that way. And the dominos all fell because her father committed suicide when she was still a babe.
It led her to here. Emotion bubbled from her chest every time her commanding officer praised her. His gruff rumbling voice hit just where she needed it most. The smoothness of his voice scraped against a jagged piece in her heart, constantly reminding her of all that she had unfairly lost. He was a tall, rugged man, all she had imagined a father should be. His presence was a welcoming one of safety and security. Knowing that no one could get through to her if he was standing in the way made her heart soar.
It was all massively inappropriate, and she knew it, but the way his presence soothed her was addicting. She hadn’t felt such peace since she was a child. Alone in bed, she wished for his strong arms to wrap around her, embracing her in the safety of a fatherly reassurance that everything would be okay.
She had always kept this boundary because she knew what it meant if she crossed that line. They were not family, and if they were they could never be on the same task force. Emotions blind logic, and if she thought about the way this man, her Captain, presence made her feel she knew that she would do anything to keep him alive. She couldn’t lose another father figure, especially one that she had chosen for herself.
It wasn’t until the mission that she realized how horrible her infatuation was. Captain Price was yelling orders when he took the bullet to the shoulder. It felt like everything began moving in slow motion after that. All she saw was her grandfather in the coffin, her stepfather on the bathroom floor, and some inkling in her heart from when she was a baby when that first piece of her heart shattered off at her fathers' last breath.
Before she could even blink she was on her knees before him, hands pressed into the wound that was oozing blood. Glancing him over she assessed what she could do. He was shot inches away from his vest, bullet lodged in his muscle.
“I’m gonna have to dig it out.” Her voice grated as she pulled her hands away from the wound.
Captain Price grunted underneath her. She looked at him for the first time since she went to him, his eyes were scrunched and forehead creased, but he was awake and aware. He reached out, a gloved hand gripping her bicep.
“Fuckin hell.” He gasped, gripping her arm as she cut away the clothing around the wound. There was no time to be kind, not when she still heard the sound of bullets whizzing above them. The rest of the task force had them covered, but this was something that couldn’t be put on hold until they were out of the line of fire.
Embracing the calming sensation of adrenaline she focused on the task at hand, grabbing packing gauze and alcohol from her kit. The sound of his grunts of pain was background noise as she packed the wound, the bullet now lying on the ground beside them.
It wasn’t until he gripped her arm to the point of bruising that she realized he had been calling her name. Not her rank, not her last name, but her name. He was leaning toward her on his good shoulder, trying to make eye contact.
“You good?”
“Hey, hey look at me.”
“Sergeant.”
That did it, she looked up at him eyes locking into his.
“You broken?” He was worried, she could read it all over his face. Why would he be worried? He was the one who was shot, the other men were still taking fire, and it was starting to rain.
Rain, they were inside a building. She looked down at her pants, watching the droplets fall. She was crying. Tears were pouring down her face, her bloody hands trembling on her lap with the scraps of his shirt and bloody gauze.
She shook her head, reaching to clear the overflowing tears from her eyes until she realized her hands were still covered in blood.
A large hand reached out to brush her cheek, wiping some of her tears away. Captain Price stared up at her, surprise and compassion swirling in his eyes.
“You called me, Dad”, he said under his breath, cupping her cheek against his palm.
Her eyes slid shut against the touch. Too worn out to comprehend what just happened. Letting out a shuddering breath she whispered, “I’m sorry, Captain.”
He humphed, a short sound in the back of his throat.
“Look at me.”
She obeyed the order, taking another deep breath and bracing for a lecture, but his face was soft.
“I don’t have kids. You muppets are enough.” He confessed softly, bullets still whizzing above their heads. “I don’t think I will ever have kids, but to know that you respect and care about me enough to mistake me for your father when I’m hurt..” He trailed off.
“I’d like to think I’m all of yours father, in my own way. Don’t be embarrassed, everyone has their own stories from before coming into the army. Now don’t tell Ghost this but even he has slipped up once or twice with calling me dad.”
A smile twitched at her cheeks, the adrenaline finally melting away allowing her to feel the gravity of what just happened. Her heart felt like it was in her throat as she chuckled softly at his confession.
Captain Price smiled at that, patting her cheek gently, “That’s my girl. Now since you got me all patched up Sergeant let's see if we can get evac in here.”
The helicopter ride back to base gave her time to process and realize how much she had overthought her reaction in the first place. Captain Price's words healed her in some way she didn't even realize. Of course, she wasn’t the only one dealing with daddy issues. People escape into the military for all sorts of things. And she did her job, she was focused on saving his life and didn’t mean to call him dad. Even though she did he didn’t look at her with disgust, but with fatherlike pride, like she had just validated something he had been wrestling with for a while.
After that, the only thing that changed was Captain Price's willingness to interact with her in more ways. A clap on the shoulder, a hug pulling into his side, letting her rest her head against his shoulder on long flights back from missions. It was something they both needed, and they found it in each other, an adopted father and daughter.
Johnny Soap MacTavish, John Price, mentions of Kate Laswell, and an unnamed female character.
1.6k angst, main character death , grief, pregnancy, healing, angst with a happy ending in the sense that there is closure. Yes this is the depressing one shot I wrote while crying in a hammock in the rain. ao3 link
“John Price sat alone on the Scottish cliffside as the months of guilt and sorrow built up in his chest released in waves.”
No one else knew except for Kate, Johnny made sure of it. There was only one copy of his will, one photo, and one address in his file to be released only at the moment of his death. And they were to be released solely to Captain John Price.
Unfortunately his death came years, decades sooner than he had hoped, but one thing he felt satisfied about was that he had saved his friend moments before the bullet entered his skull.
A friend he knew he could trust with his most coveted secrets.
It was a year into SAS when he had met her and he had fallen almost immediately. They got married at 22 and 23 respectfully, settling down in a worn house in the countryside of Scotland.
Many nights he spent whispering apologies of how the choices he made in his life meant he had to leave her side for weeks at time. His lovely lass only responded with soft kisses and gentle understanding. His work is what he loved, but she knew he loved her too.
He made up for his absence by returning with wildflowers and kisses. As the years went by it grew harder and harder to leave her side. When eight years in she looked up at him, eyes wide and cheeks bright, to say that there were going to be three of them, he almost quit that very moment.
He held her that night, hands wrapped around her belly, praying that she wouldn’t be alone with this, that he would one day get to see the life he created.
Johnny never got his wish.
When he felt his ashes float over the cliffs of Scotland he sent a prayer out to his comrades watching and mourning the man they knew as Soap.
John hadn’t known yet what he was meant to do and Johnny felt the need to guide him into that journey. The aching want of what he never got to have weighed on his ghost.
Which is why he relied so closely on the loyalty of his Captain.
Johnny was there in spirit when Kate gave him the file. He saw the look in his eyes only a man weighed heavily in guilt carries.
He wanted to reach past the veil to his friend and embrace him to tell him, don’t blame yourself, you were the one meant to be saved, not I, not in this life.
But the veil wouldn’t allow him to push past, not quite yet, so he hovered close as John approached what was once his earthly home. And he waited.
————-
John blames himself for Johnnys death. He knows it's illogical but if only he allowed Johnny to kill him..if they had only killed Makarov sooner....
He wouldn't have to be in Scotland right now. He wouldn't have to be standing in the doorway of this young woman's house. He wouldn't have to force himself to look away from the roundness of her belly, bursting with new life.
He wouldn't have to watch her face as he completely destroys their future with the news of her husbands....and their father's...untimely death.
He likes to tell himself that it's not out of guilt that he sends a check every month. Or that he stops by when he can to fix anything broken around the small house.
Soon Jane starts to grow, waddling then running to greet him at the door. His heart aching as he looks into her bright blue eyes, staring into the face of his friend.
A friend who never got the chance to see his daughter grow up or to know how big of a hole his absence left in the home.
John made a decision that lost his friend. And he will spend the rest of his life making it up to the wife and daughter Johnny left too soon.
Sometimes he swears he can feel the presence of Johnny by his side. When Jane giggles, chasing butterflies in the field or when she trips and skins her knee, running to her Godfather with big tears rolling down her cheeks.
At first he felt guilty with the title and the time he was spending with the sweet wee girl, but Mrs. MacTavish had insisted, saying it is what he would’ve wanted. John and the men had known nothing of her or this life Johnny had hidden but oh how he had shared with her stories of them. Early, when Jane was still a babe she whispered bravely under a cloudless sky with tears in her eyes that there was no one else who her Johnny would’ve wanted to carry the title of Godfather.
When Kate first gave him Soaps file he expected the list of requests for services and where to send his body, but then came a photo of a young Johnny and a new bride, and an address to a countryside house in Scotland.
It wasn’t until a month later when Kate called him, saying that something else was being sent. A letter that had been overlooked just tucked in the wrong place.
John knew better to believe her, but still accepted the carefully sealed letter, labeled neatly with his rank and name.
It was rare that he has ever been scared of the unknown, but holding that envelope in his hands a month after his friends death and then having to tell his pregnant widow he was never coming home, he was terrified.
With the courage of whiskey and the comfort of his cigar he chose to open at the cliff where they wished their friend well as his ashes flew into the wind.
John gripped his cigar a bit tighter as the handwriting came into view. The curves and points so familiar to him.
“Captain.” It said,
“If you’re reading this it probably means that the operation didn’t go as planned. Or maybe it did and it just didn’t turn out the way we had hoped. I'm sure by now you’ve learned about my lass in the countryside. She’s a strong one for staying with me this long, and she means the absolute universe to me.
You’re right in realizing that I’ve never talked about her with you or any of the other guys. I know you understand why, especially if you’ve met her by now.
She’s meant for wildflowers, sea spray, and sunshine. I don’t want her to ever have to touch our world, but if you’re reading this I know one day she’ll have to. Our line of work doesn’t make it easy for us to stay alive, no matter how hard we try. And when the time comes that I’m not here anymore she’s going to need someone, Price.
You’re a good man. The most loyal and trustworthy one I’ve met in our line of work. I’m not asking you to love her, that comes easy enough but if you could take care of her? Make sure she’s happy and that she’s not alone?
I don’t know what happened that caused me to die but I pray that it was in a way that meant my death was not in vain. I know you though Captain, and no matter what happened I don’t want you to blame yourself. If I fell off a bloody helicopter or tripped on my shoelace just know it was my time. If I died saving this world or someone I loved, even better.
I love you Captain. Thank you for all you’ve done for me. Thank you for taking care of my girl. Thank you for letting me rest peacefully knowing she’ll be okay.
Johnny “Soap” MacTavish
The tears fell, rolling onto the paper below. He folded it up quickly, careful that the words weren’t going to smudge.
John took a shaky breath, closing his eyes against the breeze on the cliffs that was rolling in waves around him.
“You were the best of us.” A smile came to his face as he spoke the next words. “Your sweet girl is almost better than you though. I’m sure you already knew that.”
A warm press of a hand settled on his shoulder at the words.
“It’s a girl, Johnny. Yeh are going to be having a girl.” John choked at the words. “I should’ve let you kill him. I should’ve and then you would still be here. You would be here to see your girls”
Gasping he tilted his head down, pressing his palm to his face.
“Fuck Johnny. I’m sorry.”
The warmth on his shoulder never moved, it only seemed to grip tighter for a moment in reassurance.
Shuddering sobs left his body as he finally let himself feel. He put aside the shell of the fearless leader and protector and became the man who had laid helplessly as his friend was shot feet away from him. The friend who took the bullet meant for him.
John Price sat alone on the Scottish cliffside as the months of guilt and sorrow built up in his chest released in waves.
It wasn’t until the tears started slowing that he felt the familiar press against his shoulder.
“It wasn’t your fault, Captain.”
The familiar lilt floated on the wind, like a whisper on the breeze.
“Thank you for taking care of my girls, John.”
The warmth tightened again and started to fade away.
As John hiked off the cliff the weight he had been carrying in his chest felt a little less.
He wasn’t a spiritual man but he knew Johnny had been with him that day, if only to make sure he knew that the ones he loved would be okay.
“I’ll take care of your girls Johnny.” He whispered back into the wind. “Thank you.”
arsonist neil meeting andrew as a preteen and then going on to watch his mum burn alive so obviously he stops burning things down, and thats the only reason andrew doesnt recognise him in palmetto because surely abram would have torched the chem lab just a little by now
