Pilot!Reader X TF 141

Pilot!Reader x TF 141

Friendship Headcanons

Warnings: cursing

Words spread like fire about your amazing skills in the air. Every team that got assigned to you and your helicopter comes back home safe and sound.

Captain Price demands your transfer to his team after you had the honor to do a mission with the Task Force 141. He only chooses the best of the best to work with.

“John! You can’t demand every good soldier I have for your team.” – “Laswell, I can and I will~”

Needless to say, but Laswell is more than pissed since you are one of the best pilots if not the best pilot on the base, but Price always get what he wants.

With your quite sassy and funny demeanor you win the hearts of the tough men rather quickly.

“Dear Task Force 141, this is your pilot speaking. If you look to the right side of the helicopter you can see Eagle 3 challenging us to a race. So, please keep seated and hold on for dear life because shit is about to get real~”

The team making bets between you and the other pilot of Eagle 3. In the end, you always win.

At first the team makes fun of you naming your helicopter Valkyrie, but after a little nosedive after a hard mission they stop very quickly. They really made the mistake of underestimating you and your helicopter.

Valkyrie actually was ready to be dropped out from the military due to old age. It was love on first sight for you. It took weeks to convince Laswell but, in the end, you got the old birdy and brought her back to her glory. It came in handy that you are literally blessed with a mechanic soul.

In your free time you love to try out new things to improve Valkyrie for the next mission. Gaz really wants to help every time, but ends up standing in the way most of the time.

“Can you give me the screwdriver for the Fillister Head screws?” – “Uh…. this one?” – “Nope, there most be another one.” – “This one?” – “… You know, Gaz, the windows are in need for a good cleaning. Could you do that for me?”

You hit him with the puppy eyes and Gaz goes to clean the windows like you asked. In the end he is just happy to be there with you :)

Soap is really fascinated with the weapons Valkyrie carries for the missions. You always take your time to explain and show him everything. Here and there he is also allowed to help you out during missions to kill a few of the enemies. That makes him literally so happy like a little boy in the candy shop.

Nevertheless, you use every single chance to mess with Soap. Sometimes Price joins you just for the fun of it.

“Get away from my baby, Soap.” – “I’m not doing anything!” – “You are way too close and I don’t like how you look at her.” – “What the hell?” – “Do what (Y/N) says, Soap!” – “But, Captain!” – “No buts.”

Gaz and Ghost know exactly what is going on and try to hold in their snickering.

With you there is literally not a single dull moment before, during and after missions. The boys love and life for those moments.

Once you left behind one of the soldiers because he got on your nerves before take-off.

“Eagle 2, where are you going?” – “Uh, Urzikstan.” – “You forgot one of the soldiers. He’s banging on the window here.” – “Yeah, we kind of had a fight and he’s an asshole so I kind of had to kick him out. I’m sure Eagle 3 has enough space for him.” – “Eagle 2, you can’t do that. Cancel takeoff clearance!” – “Oops, I accidentally put the throttles to TO/GA. See you later alligator~”

Or the other time on the way back to the base.

„Watcher 1, we request medical at the gate. Uh, we beat up another stowaway…” – “Eagle 2… YOU DID WHAT?!” – “Uh… yeah, we found him halfway back to base and he refused to leave the helicopter so we beat him up and tied him like a present gift on Christmas morning…” – “I am not dealing with this! Land like always and contact ground for medical aid.”

To Laswell’s displeasure you take your sweet time after missions to come back to the base. Here and there you make a little stop at the next fast-food chain.

“I think the drive-through will not do it. Someone has to go out and order at the counter…”

Those encounters with Laswell over the comm create a quite close bond between the two of you over the time.

“Look, who’s back!” – “Don’t even say it, Watcher 1.” – “You were supposed to land five hours ago?!” – “You should be happy we came here at all~” – “How about you land on time for once. That’ll make me happy.” – “We got burgers. Do you want one?” – “YOU GOT WHAT, EAGLE 2?!” – “Burgers…” – “… You will be the death of me … Get them over here fast, Eagle 2.”

Of course, Kate would never admit it out loud that you are her favorite pilot.

“Oh, Eagle 2!” – “Shut up and let me concentrate!” – “Five hours late again. At least butter this landing.” – “We are not Eagle 3. At least we know how to land.” – “Let’s learn how to come in on time next… Did you secure the goods?” – “Sure, Watcher 1. Your usual order coming right to you~”

Captain Price lost count how often you saved their lives with Valkyrie. They trust you blind and know you would do anything to bring them back home. But during one special mission you show how the team really mean to you.

“(Y/N)! We need air support! We can’t get to the evac point!”, the team needs your help, but you ran out of ammo a few minutes ago. You know exactly that they won’t make it without your help. This is the hardest and easiest decision at the same time you have to make.

“It was a good time we had together, Valkyrie”, you say your goodbye to the helicopter before you let crash your baby into the pack of enemies.

“NO! (Y/N)!”, the men are devastated to see Valkyrie go down knowing exactly you must be in the helicopter. Their hearts shatter. They couldn’t save you.

“Boys, come on! We need to be at the evac point in five minutes. Eagle 3 will get us!”, you stumble around the house corner quite out of breath. “You are alive!”, they can’t believe their eyes.

“Not much longer!”, you grab the first one by the hand to drag them into the direction where Eagle 3 will collect you. Once in the helicopter you are all safe and sound for now and on the way back to the base.

“(Y/N) … you crashed Valkyrie … for us?”, Gaz looks at you with his big puppy eyes. You only shrug with your shoulder not trying to think about the helicopter trashed into thousand pieces, “I really don’t want to talk about her.”

It might sound strange, but you are mourning Valkyrie like the helicopter would have been a real soldier. You had spent so much time with her. She was part of your family.

Of course, the team would make it up to you as good as they can. So, one day Gaz comes up to you with a blindfold, “Put it on.” You shake your head immediately, “Not for anything in this world.”

He defeats you with your own weapons. The puppy eyes. You put the blindfold on and get dragged over the whole base until you lose track of where you are actually going. “Oh my god, Gaz! I’m getting really sick.”

“TADA!”, he pulls down the blindfold. For a second you were blinded from the sunshine, but then it hits you. “We can’t give you Valkyrie back, but how about Valkyrie II!”, Soap exclaims pointing at the new helicopter. The whole team looks so damn proud of themselves for gifting you an even better helicopter.

“Thank you, boys. You are too sweet”, you get wrapped up in a big bear hug. “So, you know, Laswell doesn’t want you to know she gave us the money to purchase the new helicopter”, Price tells you with a smile on his lips.

“I chose the interior of the helicopter and the color!”, Gaz exclaims and points at Valkyrie II.

“I was responsible for the weapons! I can show you everything!”, Soap adds.

“I coordinated everything”, Price shrugs his shoulders.

You look at Ghost. He holds up an air freshener, “I want it to smell good.”

ME

Me: *does something to decrease my anxiety*

My anxiety: you want me to grow?

Me: N O !

My anxiety: ok, I grow!!!!

every once in a awhile this will pop up and make me laugh all over again

Konig x y/n

hot artists don't gatekeep

I've been resource gathering for YEARS so now I am going to share my dragons hoard

Floorplanner. Design and furnish a house for you to use for having a consistent background in your comic or anything! Free, you need an account, easy to use, and you can save multiple houses.

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Magma. Draw online with friends in real time. Great for practice or hanging out. Free, paid plan available, account preferred.

Smithsonian Open Access. Loads of free images. Free.

SketchDaily. Lots of pose references, massive library, is set on a timer so you can practice quick figure drawing. Free.

SculptGL. A sculpting tool which I am yet to master, but you should be able to make whatever 3d object you like with it. free.

Pexels. Free stock images. And the search engine is actually pretty good at pulling up what you want.

Figurosity. Great pose references, diverse body types, lots of "how to draw" videos directly on the site, the models are 3d and you can rotate the angle, but you can't make custom poses or edit body proportions. Free, account option, paid plans available.

Line of Action. More drawing references, this one also has a focus on expressions, hands/feet, animals, landscapes. Free.

Animal Photo. You pose a 3d skull model and select an animal species, and they give you a bunch of photo references for that animal at that angle. Super handy. Free.

Height Weight Chart. You ever see an OC listed as having a certain weight but then they look Wildly different than the number suggests? Well here's a site to avoid that! It shows real people at different weights and heights to give you a better idea of what these abstract numbers all look like. Free to use.

~Saviour~

Warning: Hospitals, near death, violence, blood. Graphic descriptions.

Synopsis: when a mission goes south you save your 141 boys.

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Life had a way of throwing shit at you. Giving you a curveball that often cleaved through your life.

This day was no different.

You sat in the med bay. Blood and dirt caked your hands all the way up to your elbows. Your breath was erratic as your left hand clasped and unclasped. Your right arm was numb laid limply on your knee. You glanced at it, unsure why it wasn't moving. Your hand was hidden by a glove that looked a little big to be yours. Were you wearing gloves? You couldn't remember. Your eyes set on the door in front of you. The doors which behind held your squad. The nurses and doctors who rushed around sent brief worried glances at you, but you would simply wave them off. You could only see the blood on your arms. You couldn't see the blood that covered your shirt and down the right side of your face.

Flashes of what happened played on a taunting replay in your head.

It was supposed to be just a simple routine check on one of the outreach bases. Your team was accompanied by about thirty others. You remembered sitting with your squad as Price gave out some simple orders. You remembered smiling brightly at the boys as they cracked a joke.

You remembered feeling the first drops of rain when it happened. You took notice of the water dripping from your body onto the cheap plastic chair as you closed your eyes. You were as wet as a drowned rat. You weren't really sure how it happened. There was an explosion. There were other soldiers, not dressed like you. It was an attack. You were the furthest from the explosion. You remember seeing your squad scattered around? Price and Ghost were the only other ones who recovered consciousness. They went down faster than you could comprehend. Ghost, because of another explosion and due to a loss of blood, a bullet cleaved through his collarbone. Jonny's lung was collapsing and Gaz was unresponsive. You could name every other injury your squad sustained. You had it all listed in your head. Every scratch and laceration. You remembered treating them amid the chaos. You remembered dragging them each to the rally point where they were packed into a chopper and taken to safety. You remembered regurgitating that information up to the doctors. When your mind was done with that, it started replaying what you had done to treat their injuries. Had you done it properly? You followed through your steps, trying desperately to piece them all together.

You couldn't. It was all a jumbled mess. You mind was a jumbled mess.

You weren't allowed in the operating rooms; you weren't qualified. You remembered being pulled out by someone. You remember trying to fight against their arms, but they were too strong. And now you were there. Sitting alone in an empty hall.

As the adrenalin started to run out, you finally noticed the ringing in your head. The numbness up your right arm. With everything you felt, you diagnosed yourself with a concussion, a bad one and possible shock. You didn't know how long you had sat there. Yet when a doctor approached you, your clothes were dry.

"You can see them now. They're all awake and in bay seven," he said, gesturing you in the room. Nodding, you mumbled out a thank you as you walked into the room and noticed that you had a slight limp.

"Heeeyyyyyy. There's our medic. Finally decided to show up and do your job, huh?" your eyes first found Jonny’s. He sat upright in the hospital bed with a bright smile on the right. Ghost and Gaz stood next to Price, in a bed of his own, looking pretty good on the left. You had to give it to modern medicine. It was extraordinary. 

"Damn girl, you look like shit," Gaz commented, making everyone in the room chuckle. You chuckled as well as you took them all in. Took in the open eyes and smiles. 

They were alright.

"Sorry. Haven't had time for a shower. But I still smell better than Jonny," you said, earning chuckles from them. 

"You got a bit of a limp there. You alright kid?" Price groggy voice came from the bed. His shoulder was wrapped up something fierce.

"I'm alright sir. My arms a little banged up. How about you, huh?" you asked. 

They were all alive and safe.

"I'm alright. A little disappointed you weren't doing your job, though. But I had a cute doctor so I'm not complaining," Price cracking a joke. A rare but welcome thing.

"Nah, the doctors wouldn't let me in. I don't have the right credentials apparently," you said, feeling something building behind your eyes.

"What a load of shit," Jonny said.

"But you're all ok right?" you asked, your voice shaky as you gripped your sleeve.

"We're fine. A little beatenand bruised, but we're out of the woods," Gaz commented. You weren't able to hold the small sob that escaped your lips.

"That's good. That's good," you said, reaching your hand up to cover the sob with a cough. Yet you couldn't hold back the tears that quickly started to pour from your eyes. The relief you were feeling was too much. The worry and fear that had been suffocating you had lifted, finally letting you breathe. It seemed like the whole time you had been waiting was like being underwater. And with their words, you were finally able to gasp for air. 

They were ok.

"Sargent?" Price questioned hesitant looks being passed around the room.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, wiping the tears away.

"Oh come on short stack. These little scratches aren't worth crying over." your squad wasn't sure what to do. They didn't really cry. It was something that was strange to them, so they weren't sure how they should react to you doing just that.

"It's just. God. You idiots really worried me, you know. And now you fuckers got me crying. God. It seems like I really love you guys," you sniffled as you whispered that last part to yourself. Not well enough though. They had each heard it.

"Aw come on. Now. You're gonna make me blush," Jonny’s comment had you laughing as you whipped your nose.

"You better consider yourselves important. I don't just cry for anyone you know," you calmed yourself, your cries settling into only tears and a brief quiver of your voice.

"Come on now, Sargent. Straighten yourself out. And for god's sake, have a shower," Price said with a warm smile. You nodded with a smile.

"Yes sir," you took one last look around the room before turning to leave. 

You didn't get far. Your legs didn't seem to get the plan. Your knees buckled slightly, but you were able to keep yourself up.

"Come on," you whispered, straightening up. You weren't on your feet for more than two seconds before you tumbled to the ground.

"Y/N!" As you lay on the cold ground you felt yourself being flipped over. Those who could stand had rushed to you. Then nothing.

Your squad watched all in pure worry as Ghost lifted you onto a spare bed. They yelled for a doctor.

"What's wrong with her?" A doctor who had been yanked into the room asked, taking a torch and shining it in your eyes.

"She just collapsed," Gaz said.

"She's got a concussion," he started.

"She said there was something else with her arm too," Ghost added. Jonny stood waddling over to you. The doctor pulled your left sleeves up to see if there was anything wrong. Seeing nothing, he moved to the right. Pulling the sleeve up, he pauses in slight shock. Your skin was blistered and bleeding with four-degree burns.

"I need nurses here now!" he yelled. He hurried, cutting your shirt sleeves going higher and higher to see the burns all the way up your arm and shoulder. Underneath were the remnants of a burnt shirt. You had put the glove on to get a better grip of whatever you were handling, your hand having become a blistered mess. A few nurses rushed into the room, starting to set up monitors. One nurse cut open your undershirt and paused.

"Doctor," she explained. All attention was pulled down to your stomach. Deep Purple coloring had spread across your abdominal area.

"She's bleeding internally. Get the surgery ready! Let's go!" your squad watched on in shock as the nurse hurriedly ushered your bed out of the room.

Price sat upright in his bed, waiting. They all were. A young private rushed into the room. 

"Sir, here's the footage you asked for," he rushed forward holding out a tablet to the Captain. Silently, he pressed play. Everyone watched in shock as they saw the attack play out. They saw you. Dazed and in pain as you took in your burnt arm. They watched your worry quickly shift to them. They saw you pulling them each to safety. Saving them. They saw you get struck in the stomach by an airborne piece of debris. They saw you covered them with your body as more explosions rang out. They saw you come back for each and every one of them even when people held you back. 

"How long ago did we get in?" Price asked.

"About a day and a half, sir," the private stated.

"So you're telling me. One of my men sat out in that hall for a day and a half with no medical attention?" Price asked, gripping the tablet tightly. The poor lad nearly shit himself when he felt the glares of all four men fall upon him.

"Sir, the attack borough in a flux of patients," the young soldier wasn't able to finish his response when Price shoved the table back into his chest.

"Then why the hell was she alone in the attack?" he asked. The private eyes darted around nervously. Even if her team had gone down, there were other soldiers around. Where were they? Why haden’t they helped you?

"You were all in a danger zone. We had established a protective line. We were given orders to stay behind it," he muttered.

"So you fuckers were gonna leave us there?" Jonny asked in anger. The private cast his eyes down in shame. They now understood why people were holding you back. You were going against orders to save their lives.

Most of the squad was discarded and getting dressed when a doctor walked into the room, his eyes cast down at his tablet.

"Who's the dick that demanded I personally report a medical condition when I have a whole base full of patients?" the doctor was pissed. When he pulled his eyes from his tablet and took in the inhabitants of the room he gulped quickly changing up his tone.

"How is she?" Price asked.

"Well, she had severe internal bleeding. We patched that up though. She had a few broken ribs. Her arm had four-degree burns. She has a concussion and a slight fracture to the skull. She's going to heal up fine with time but her arm will be permanently scarred. She's unconscious right now. And it might be a few hours before she's out of the woods," he quickly reported your condition. He looked hesitant building up the courage to get the last bit of information out.

"What else?" he asked.

"Her heart stopped beating halfway through the operation. Only for a few seconds though. We were able to resuscitate her with the deliberator," he added. The boy's mouths went dry.

Your squad all stood at the window to your room. You were bandaged up like a mummy, a breathing tube stuck in your mouth. Two nurses shuffled around you attending to bits and pieces. Dread, utter dread seeped into their bodies as they took you in. As reality set in.

The team was a mess after that. At all times, you had at least one of them in your room. Cards and flowers piled up on your bedside table moving to encompass the little corner of the room. As soon as the doctor told him that talking to you might help you come out of the coma quicker, he was unstoppable. Jonny would constantly come in, talking nonstop about anything and everything. Gaz would sometimes bring you your favorite snacks wafting the scent over to you in hopes it would wake you up. Price would pop in every morning before breakfast and every afternoon before dinner, demanding a full report of your status. And Ghost would simply sit by your bed. Scared half the nursed shitless to see him looping finger and skull mask walking about at night. 

And they were mad. Price nearly got half the nurses and doctors fired. Those he didnt mange to get fired were transferred. 

It was a week before you woke up. You were in a slight daze. Your vision blurry as you took in your painful limbs. After the doctor and nurses checked up on you, you sat upright in bed. They had told you the extent of your injuries. And you were still feeling a bit drowsy.

A nurse had just left from checking your vitals when you heard a thunder of footsteps. Then you saw them. Your squad all fumble into the room. Relieved and happy smiles spread over their faces as they all clambered around your small bed.

You couldn't really remember what they were saying. After all, they were all talking over each other. What you do remember was the looks they gave you. Looks of utter application and relief. And a newfound respect. 

"Sargent," they all went silent as Price entered the room.

"Sir," you nodded.

"We saw what you did for us," he said, simply unsure how to proceed with the following words. How do you thank someone for saving your life?

"What I did?" you mumbled in confusion. "What did I do?" you chuckled playfully. Your squad looked over your carefree smile.

"You don't remember?" Ghost asked.

"Not really. I remember we were attacked. Seems like I was pretty fucked. Let me guess, you guys saved my ass huh?" you asked playfully. You really couldn't remember what had happened. It was all a blur. The doctor mentioned you might have some amnesia. 

"You did well, Y/N. You did good," Price said, extending his hand out to you. You let out a huff of a chuckle confused by his words but shook his hand nonetheless. The boys would later tell you what had happened but you just shock it off thinking they just wanted to make you feel better.

As you recovered, they harassed the doctors and nurses hanging over their shoulders and constantly asking what they were doing. And you healed. 

Ghost would find himself constantly training to keep his mind off his worry for you. Yet halfway through every workout or exercise, his worry would get the better of him. It brought a smile to your face when he would walk in. He would chat and talk, as much as Ghost could, always checking that you had everything you needed. He was also the one the nurses hated the most. Now Ghost wasn't dumb, but he certainly didn’t really understand all the medical mumbo jumbo, as he called it. So when anything beeped, or he noticed something that looked weird, he would press the nurse call button and ask what it was. You found the concern cute but annoying sometimes. A welcome annoyance, though. 

After a certain amount of medication, you felt sleep pulling at you. Ghost, noticing your heart rate slowing down, slightly reached for the nurse call button.

"It's fine, Simon," you spoke up through half-closed eyes.

"Then why is the beeping thing slowing down?" he asked, gesturing to the machine as he pulled a chair up to sit beside your bed. 

"Your heart rate slows when you go to sleep. Which the current medication is doing," you explained with a small smile.

"Huh," he hummed, settling down in the chair.

"What's on your mind, big guy? You're usually jumpy today," you questioned lazily, waving your arm out to him. Not bothering to bring it back to the bed, you let it dangle off the side.

"The doc said something about a bleed somewhere," he shrugged gently, taking your hand and going to tuck it back under the sheets. Instead, you grasped hold of his pinky, holding it tightly.

"I popped open a stitch, it's fine, it's fixed, see," you said, waving your other damaged hand where a small cut lay underneath the bandage.

"What? You worried about little old me?" you asked with a small smirk, your eyelids drooping.

"Always love," he grinned back, moving his hand to completely engulf yours. You looked over his gentle eye. The honesty in his eyes. He had called your love before. It was always in a playful tone. But that time. The word sounded so different. It sounded sincere.

"Is the big bad Ghost actually saying something sincere?" you asked playfully.

"Yeah well, don't get used to it," he shrugged, going to pull his hand back, but you held tightly onto it. He propped an eyebrow questioning.

"Thank you for being here. It means a lot," you whispered.

"Well, it's the least I can do. And while we're on the topic of thanking. I wanted to thank you for everything," he avoided your gaze as he spoke, having to clear his that afterward.

“I'm the medic, it's my job,” you stated simply. 

“Yeah, well you gotta stay alive to do ya job,” he mumbled, his gaze focused on your intertwined hands, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing the back of your palm. Flashes of the cold panic reverberated in his mind. The fear that threatened to swallow him when he saw you being wheeled out of the room. The dread that squeezed his lungs so painfully he thought he might have a collapsed lung himself. 

“Don't tell me what to do,” you joked playfully. His shoulders did their little jump chuckle thing as he returned his gaze to yours. The warmth you held in your eyes. The warmth that spread through you as he gazed at you so sincerely. You had to admit it now. You were smitten with the lieutenant. Perhaps it was the drugs making you feel truthful. It was definitely the drugs that had you reaching up. Ghost frowned as your hand placed itself at the base of your mask. A pleasant shiver ran down his spine as your fingers dived under the mask trailing up to cup his cheek. Your smile widened as you felt the tickle of a stubble on your palm. 

“I knew it. I knew you had a stubble. Jonny owes me a tenner,” you whispered softly, your thumb brushing the skin feeling a scar or two. Ghost found himself placing his hand over your own, moving his lips to press them into your palm. The kiss so tender as it lingered on your skin. 

"You know. I'm gonna make you my Misso," now you were sure it was the drugs that had you speaking like that, but at that moment you didn't care. Because only a second after you pulled your hand back, Simons fell with yours as he held it again. Only a second after you had fallen into a deep sleep, your hand still clasped around Ghosts.

A very confused Simon glanced over at your heart monitor before signing deeply.

"What the fuck is a misso?" he asked himself.

Price would come by later to see how you were, only to stop in the doorway. Simon lay propped up on the bed beside you, sleeping peacefully. Your hands still intertwined. 

With a small knowing smile, he turned around and closed the door behind him.

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--Cod master list here--

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The Couch

Your official job is as a psychiatrist, but not a single one of the men who visit you care about that. They don't care about you at all. They just want... your cozy damn couch. Every time you walk in the room, there is a big burly man sleeping or lounging on it. Rarely, it is a woman. This time, there are three of them fighting over it. You sigh and submit a request for three more couches. When the supply officer asks why, you claim it is for group sessions. He sends one couch over. It is almost as comfortable as the original, and they take to it quickly.

You stop in your tracks the day you spot a KorTac man sitting nervously on the couch. So far, only Price's team and his associated strays have taken advantage of the open couch. You smile briefly before moving to sit at your desk.

"I'm here if you want to talk, but the couch is open to whomever wants a nap or to relax. No talking required." He nods, slightly more relaxed, and you focus on your computer. When you look up later, you see he has laid down and fallen asleep, his soft snores filling the room. After that, you send in another request and another for more couches and a couple of reclining chairs. You are denied. They tell you to just bring in folding chairs. You decide to use your paycheck and bring in something more comfortable than folding chairs.

The next week, you are struggling to get a reclining chair down the hall as silently as possible when you freeze, a chill running down your back. Turning, you see Ghost standing only a foot away, silently watching with his arms crossed.

"I got a new chair." Your bright smile seems to just bounce off his broad chest, but you pay no mind to him, turning back to the task at hand. You get a few feet further and glance back to say something witty, but Ghost is gone. Another few feet, and you are bodily lifted by a set of strong arms before Ghost and König pick up the chair and carry it to your office with no effort. You thank them and ask if they would be willing to help you with one more thing since they are here. Rolling their eyes, they follow you.

Proudly, you show them the three large boxes that you bought. The men are not amused. Their body language switches from annoyed to almost angry when you pick up one of the boxes. König nearly tears it from your hands, and Ghost swiftly grabs the second box. Holding up your hands, you wait until they storm inside to pick up the third box and follow them.

It takes most of the day for the stuffing in the giant floor pillows to fluff up from being vacuum packed in the boxes, so you take the time to rearrange the room. The next day, opening the door after lunch, you spot no less than ten men and one woman lounging in various spots around the room.

A few weeks later and Soap asks if you can requisition another chair because he is annoyed that Captain Price is constantly snoring away in the only one. You shake your head sadly.

"Sorry, bud. I can't get another one for a while. Too expensive." He nods but puzzles over your wording for the next few days before filing it in the back of his mind.

It takes another couple months for you to save up, but you do bring in a second chair. Soap nearly dances when he sees it.

"I tried to ask supply for one of these for my office, but they had no idea what I was talking about."

"Oh, they wouldn't. They deem my request too frivolous every time." You tap away at the computer, only half paying attention to Soap.

"Then, how did you convince them?"

"Didn't. Had to go get it myself." The silence that falls over the room is far more tense than usual.

"You, you bought these for us? Like with your own money?" You sigh. Here is the conversation you were hoping to avoid. Turning to Soap, you see every person in the room staring at you, trying to work out what is happening.

"Yes, of course. Nothing but the best for my patients. I am the psychiatrist for KorTac and 141, after all."

"What?! We just, we thought you were just an officer with a comfortable couch. But you're a god damn psychiatrist?!" You can see several edging toward the door, nervously.

"Yep. Ghost, please wait just a moment." He hesitates with his hand on the doorknob. "Think about how long you've been napping in here. Have I ever overstepped? Four years I have been assigned to the 141, and not once have I updated your files. Luckily, I can claim patient-doctor confidentiality, or I would be out of a job."

"So, you haven't been doing your job at all?" This comes from Captain Price, who looks confused.

"Oh, I have been. If you don't mind sharing, what is the thing your last psychiatrist kept trying to force you to do, Captain?"

"Fuckin golf. Claimed it would be a good stress relief like I want to be a lazy damn officer."

You nod and glance around. "Ghost, what was your recommendation?"

"God damn yoga." You hear Soap snort and give him a small smile.

"Mmhmm, not something I imagine you would ever be interested in. And you König, if you don't mind?"

His voice is quiet but strong, "Guided meditation."

"Every one of those is rooted in the idea that you need to rest. My job was to find a way to make it happen, and I wasn't keen on being stonewalled and hated by the people I work with. So, I left the door open and passed a rumor around that there was a mythical comfortable couch. Sort of a build it and they will come." You pause and gather your courage. "As I have said from the beginning, talking is optional. Naps and resting are welcome. That's the way it will stay as long as I am here."

Turning back to your computer, you submit another supply request, worded slightly different from the last. A bigger office for more group sessions so both teams can be present. The silence in the room is less tense, but you don't look up from your screen, not wanting to see how many left, knowing who you are now. To your surprise, when you stand up to stretch, every spot is still occupied.

The next week, you get your denial and an inspection scheduled as you haven't been logging apppointments since posted there, and your constant requests have been noticed. The stress shows in the tenseness of your jaw and the furrow between your eyes, but you don't say a word to anyone.

The day of your inspection comes, and you brace yourself for invasive questions and the likely anger from whomever shows up when you refuse to answer those questions. You hint three time and then outright tell the lounging men to leave just minutes before the scheduled appointment, frantically trying to tidy up and make it look like you have adults as patients instead of sleep away camp.

"What is goin' on, lass?" Soap asks lazily from the floor pillow he refuses to vacate.

"I- I have an inspection, like right now." That gets their attention.

"Och aye! We will clear ou-" A knock at the door interrupts him. You take a deep breath, forcing your emotions under a smile.

"Enter." A man confidently walks in, faltering when he sees so many eyes on him.

"I am here to inspect your work, Captain. You were informed as to the time?" Standing, you salute him, then motion him to one of the seats.

"Yes, my apologies, Lieutenant Colonel. This group session ran a little late. If you could excuse us, everyone. We can pick this back up tomorrow. Hopefully." They all stand and salute the Lieutenant Colonel before walking out. He stalks to the chair in front of your desk.

"You will be lucky to make it to the end of the day if I have anything to say about it. You have clearly squandered resources buying all of this furniture, and there isn't a single update to any personnel files. Your explanation better be damn good, Captain."

You meet his gaze squarely before answering. "I am assigned to a unit whose work is often above top secret. I do not take notes on what is said in this room. I have found that doing so makes patients uncomfortable and, therefore, less likely to relax."

"That doesn't explain why you are not charting recommendations." You lean back and pull out a paper from a drawer.

"These are the recommendations previously listed in the files of various patients who are now under my command. Almost all of them fall into the same category: relax. So when I reviewed the files, I notated in the general team file for The 141 that relaxing activities would be undertaken as needed. The KorTac file gained the same note when they were switched to my purvue. There is no need to update individual files when I do my utmost to only hold group sessions, again for comfort to the patients."

He sits back, clearly not convinced, but at least pondering it a moment. "Why did you have KorTac transferred to your care? They were previously under another, frankly more competent, psychiatrist."

"Was that psychiatrist able to get them to open up? Honestly, I am curious if the team even showed up to their sessions by how sparse their files are. Colonel König has been here for six years, and his entire file is less than a dozen pages. The same could be said for nearly all of the KorTac team. There are notations in most of these files that KorTac and The 141 can not be in the same room for more than five minutes at a time without fighting. Yet nearly every day members of both teams are here for upwards of an hour a day, and they haven't had any fights outside of here in months." You snap your jaw shut, noticing the slightest of movement behind the Lieutenant Colonel. You stand and salute.

"Corporal, you've already saluted me. Sit down."

"She is saluting me, not you, Lieutenant Colonel." Colonel König salutes you back as the Lieutenant Colonel grouses about being interrupted before he turns and pales. He hurriedly stands and renders his own salute, which is returned with deliberate slowness.

"Colonel, if I may?" At his nod, you continue. "I did not mean to speak so flippantly of your records. I should have guarded their contents more closely. You have my deepest apologies." His eyes lock with yours, and you could swear he is either smirking or smiling.

"It is of no consequence. I am glad to know that you feel such concern, despite the public nature that such personnel files often suffer during inquests such as these." He pulls up another chair from who knows where and sits just behind the Lieutenant Corporal. "I will monitor to ensure sensitive information about need to know operations is not disclosed."

You nod, "Yes, Colonel. Understood."

The Lieutenant Colonel shifts uncomfortably with the gaze at his back. "Circling back to my first concern. The wasting of British coffers on unnecessary seating is clear gross misconduct. You will need to return all except for the standard single couch immediately."

"Yes, Lieutenant Colonel. When can you send supply over to fetch the other couch?" He looks surprised, as though he expected more of a fight.

"I will have to confer with them to see when they will be able to take so many large items."

"Hmm? Oh no, only the two couches, desk, computer, and the chair you sit in were issued. The rest I brought in at my own expense to better facilitate having over a dozen soldiers and officers in here at the same time. I do ask to keep the original couch. It is the only one long enough to fit many of the men I treat." He looks shocked.

"You furnished the rest?" You can see him fighting not to look around at the room, hand fidgeting on the desk.

"Of course. Patients come first in my care. Every request I have put in has been denied since the second couch. The number of patients I see has more than doubled with the strays that Captain Price and Colonel König have dragged with them into my office. We are running out of time today. Would you like to meet again next week, or do you have the information needed to close out this inquiry?" The Lieutenant Colonel seems shocked.

"But I have more questions. And you need to answer them."

"I understand that, which is why I am offering another meeting. But you scheduled just one time block for this, and I have others coming in right after. The noise he made was pure frustration, and he let loose without thinking.

"Listen here you cunt! You will not get out of this by claiming an appointment. You will answer my questions until I am satisfied and have enough to properly fuck you over the way you deserve! I-!" A hand claps onto his shoulder, making him wince in pain.

"Lieutenant Colonel Riggs. That is not conduct becoming an officer. You will cease your screaming and see yourself out. Your lack of preparation and knowledge does not permit you to abuse officers of a lower rank. You will join me in my office while we discuss this further." The icy tone has you wincing in sympathy. When the door shuts behind them, you nearly collapse on your desk in relief. After a long moment of fighting the urge to cry, you jolt when a hand rubs your back.

"Ghost, why are you still in my office?"

"Support?" You grunt before looking up at him.

"Thank you. Now, I'm going to have a good cry, so if you need to leave to avoid it, now is a good time." Instead of leaving, he makes you stand and walk to the couch where he tugs you to his chest.

"Cry all you want, Luv. I'm here for you, just like you were for me all those times these past few years."