TF 141 + blunt!reader
CW: Mentions of loss, survivor's guilt, military trauma, emotional isolation and dehumanization.
Your life since you joined the SAS fell into that perfectly unpredictable rhythm that soon became as familiar as your own breathing.
You were no more than a name, a file, a tool to call whenever the system needed more hands. Nothing more. Not important enough to be recognised. Your CO treated you like the best expendable asset he had⌠And you accepted it.
There was nothing worse for you than not being useful, not being required. It was a fear you learned a long, long time ago. With the smell of cordite, gunpowder and blood that wasnât your own. The shouts of people around you, your team, your first unit being reduced to mere memories as you were left the last one standing. The only one to attend to the extracting zone, the one who had to speak as their voices.
It was an ill-fated start for your career. The callsign that your team once gave you was then being known as a rumour that earned you pitying looks and pats on the back from people you didnât even know. But you were the last one standing, the one who finished the op and the story spoke more for you than anything else. They decided to keep you around, like a spare key they could use whenever it was needed. Because you were good at it, you were good at being that key they use as their last resource.
You didnât mind it, not really. Minding it was useless when the only important thing was that you were alive, still functional. This has been your life for years. Too young to be here, but too far in to get out.
Youâd made peace with it. Then one morning, you were at the gym finishing your routine, music blasting quietly on your headphones when a notification on your phone caught your attention. A message, from your CO, telling you to report at his office as fast as possible. And so you did, without thinking. Like every order that was given to you.
One knock on his door was enough, it opened just as your knuckles went for the second one. And you were then face to face with your own dread, the expectancy of another life or death mission. But no, this time you met the face of the same person who has been giving you orders since you joined, his usual monotone facade now softened by a faint smile.
âSergeantâ he called, letting you in. âSir.â You greeted, stepping into his office, finding another presence there.
A man who stood as soon as you entered the room. He stretched one hand to you with a smile that didnât reach his eyesâhis mustache made him look friendlier than your own senses could recognize. This man was a wall of muscles forged with way more experience than both of the people in this room.
You took his hand, he shook it and let go quickly. His gaze still lingering on yours as you simply looked at him. âSergeant, this is Captain John Price.â Your COâs voice cut through the moment, and you turned to see him.
âYouâre now part of my task force.â He said matter-of-factly, his smile faltering just a bit with the seriousness of his statement
Johnâs words left an echo on your mind, âpart of myâ, they spoke of belonging somewhere, of having a place. You havenât heard them directed to you in so much time that there was no reaction from you. Just the subtle raise of your brows as you looked at both men.
Then the whole debriefing came, but one part of you barely registered as you were still stuck at the realization. Once you did, you were already walking behind John, your new boss.
âWeâre gonna meet the other ones,â He started, his voice gravelly despite his light tone. âThey might look like freaks at first, but give them time, theyâre good boys.â he chuckled, turning into a wing of the Stirling Lines that you never visited.
Opening a door, you meet again with the sight of unknown people. But the atmosphere inside of that lounge room felt warmer than any part of the base, not in temperature, but in the way it felt lived in. Packed with objects that carried the personal taste of the people who used them. It was like a home in a place where there was no space for that.
âNah mate, we said no tricks this time!â A man with caramel skin shouted as he sent what you could recognize as a console control flying across the room. The other one, the one with an eccentric haircut choice let out a laugh âThatâs no trick! donât blame your skill issues on me.â
Price stood by your side, admiring the scene with a hand already caressing the bridge of his nose. Your gaze drifted between the two men and the one standing at your side, clearly not knowing what to do. Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, the two men turned to the door, scrambling to their feet as soon as they saw you⌠Or more so, saw Price.
âI think you know what I said about videogames on dutyâŚâ Price broke the silence stepping in and almost covering you with his body, the two men just nodded. The one with the mohawk met your gaze over his shoulder, clearly curious about your presence. âWhoâs the lass behind ye, cap?â
Price introduced you. Sgt. John âSoapâ Mactavish and Sgt. Kyle âGazâ Garrick were your fellow comrades in this force. Gaz held himself quieter than Price and Soap, but Soap chimed with a shine that was almost contagious. Still both of them made your intuition pick something different the same way Price did.
âYou donât speak much, aye?â Soap commented as you were now seated on the sofa with them, Price left you⌠to get acquainted. And you werenât sure how to feel about it.
âNot unless necessary.â Your answer came shorter than intended, all of them did as they asked for details about yourself. But it was like a practiced speech, the same questions required the same answers and you have already lived these conversations a hundred of times before. With other people, in other contexts.
The difference was that those conversations were fleeting, like the people. Now it seemed you were here to stay, and that thought rang inside your head, making you realize that maybe you had to change that from now on.
Gaz snorted, and you looked at him almost puzzled. He shrugged, shaking his head âOh, no, sorry⌠Itâs just, it seems like we got another Ghost.â That made your own expression way clearer now, confused at his reaction.
âAlready talkinâ shite âbout me to the new one?â A new voice spoke behind you, gravelly like metal scraping against metal and it made your whole body tense. You looked over your shoulder, but the form behind you was bigger than any of the men you just metâand that was a lot to sayâ.Â
You stood up, movements purposeful just to meet a man with a presence more dense than Priceâs, heavier in a way that put your senses on alert. His skull-printed balaclava doing nothing against his sheer build alone.
âAnd that's the Lt, Ghost.â Soap stood too, palming the shoulder of Ghost with a trust that told everything about the camaraderie around them.
âPrice told me about you,â Ghost spoke again, his brown eyes finding yours for a moment before looking back to Soap. âAnd he also told me that you should show her around, guide her to her new barracks.â
That sentence alone made your own confusion stronger. Your eyes closed for a second, brows furrowing. âPardon?... New barracks?â Both men looked at you as if it was something obvious. But everything was happening too fast.
No one asked you if you wanted to accept any offer, they decided for you. They put you here, made you sign and changed the whole routine youâve created as you could in just a matter of⌠minutes? Maybe change happened this fast, but it never happened to you so you couldn't actually say if this was okay.
It was far more than changing your barracks, it was a whole statement that you needed to think about.
Soap turned to see you, blue eyes catching every microexpression on your face. And he smiled again, carrying a bit of reassurance, as if he himself could understand your nerves. âNo worries lass, Iâll just show you around, tell you a bit âbout our routine.â
You looked at him without saying anything, not even moving. He sighed. His hand rested briefly on your shoulder, gently guiding you toward the door. Even he seemed unsure how to approach you.
Once out, you started to walk in a silence that was almost awkward.
For him at least, judging by the way he cleared his throat and started talking again. âThe barracks thing itâs more about practicality, aâright? we work mainly at this side of the base, more teams like us do.â
You acknowledged with a nod, your gaze going back to a point far away. He didnât force you to speak again, it would be useless. You appreciated his understanding, it was like fresh air coming from experiences where people didnât even respect your personal space.
So the rest of his tour came with a practicality you enjoyed. He told you where, when and how things happened, you asked questions, he answered with the same energy.
And even if you couldnât express it, you could really say that he was a very enjoyable person. Someone who could help you without stepping into your bubble, or at least, thatâs the face he showed you.
âOkay then,â he announced with a smile, stopping in front of a door with an empty plate on it. âThis is your new room.â he opened with a dramatic âTa-chan!â letting you step into it. It was standard issue, with a bigger window but same greys and cold feeling that the other one.
âI know itâs not much, but⌠well, it has a private bathroom,â he whispered that last part, leaning a bit over your shoulder. âThe only one around here with it, Price was holding it hostage, for you, maybe.â he shrugged, standing straight again.
You looked at him, blinking a few times, and he had already learned that it meant âyeah? keep goingâ he pressed his lips on a thin line, clasping his hands with a shrug.
âWell, that was all. I'll let you to it.â He turned towards the door, stopping right as if he remembered something. âOh, and, you donât have to move immediately⌠But just let us know when you do, weâll give ye a handâ
âThanks, SoapâŚâ You dismissed him, and he grinned, leaving you alone with the smell of an unused space. You moved through the room to sit on the bed, just taking it all in. Thinking about this new⌠everything. About how this would change your life from now on. And then your brain went towards the logistics of all. How now you had your own space, even your own bathroom. And more specifically, why you, among so many others?
You sighed, your shoulder slumping with a new weight while you stood up. Stretching your back and moving towards the door, closing it behind you, but looking at the empty plate on it. It was waiting for your name, wasnât it? You didnât know how to feel, or how to name what you were feeling. But it left you uneasy, as if it was clutching at your chest.
And it wasnât rational, there was nothing making you feel this way, nothing you could detect and address. But maybe youâll do, tomorrow, with time.
AN: Short? yeah, but this is a work in progress and I figured I wanted to make a series out of this.
Anyways! Interactions are very much appreciated, so let me know if you enjoyed your reading.
