Breaking Up A Fight

Male teammate reader realizing that he is seeing elias as a father figure😔

When elias of course was caring but he saw that beneath his stoic personality

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶

Elias as a Stern but Caring Father Figure X Male Teammate Reader

Notes: getting shot, mention of the hollow feelings!

Elias Walker isn’t a man who gives out praise easily. He’s disciplined, tough, and expects nothing less than the best from his soldiers. But under that hardened exterior is a leader who truly looks out for his men, even if it means showing it in his own quiet, firm way.

Breaking Up a Fight

The tension in the squadroom was thick. You and another Ghost had been angry—something about conflicting orders, a missed extraction point, and heated words escalating into a full-blown argument. By the time Elias stepped in, you had your fists clenched, jaw tight, and were about to throw a punch.

Elias’ voice cut through the room like a gunshot.

"Enough! both of you!"

The entire squad went silent. Elias didn’t yell—he never needed to. His tone alone held weight, commanding immediate respect. He stepped between them, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made it clear he wasn’t playing around.

"You feel like fighting? You take it to the ring. But I better not catch my soldiers throwing punches like a couple of undisciplined rookies. Understood?"

“Tell me what happened.”

It was an order. But Elias wasn’t just here to discipline—he wanted to understand.

After you finished explaining, Elias studied you with that sharp, unreadable gaze. The other soldier just stared, silent, waiting. But Elias cut through the tension with a firm voice.

"You're frustrated. Good. That means you care. But losing your temper? That’s how you lose respect. Next time, think before you act like a meniac."

His words landed like a weight in the air—heavy, undeniable. Then, without another glance, he turned and left.

The soldier beside you muttered a curse and stalked off, but you stood frozen. Something inside you shifted, a flicker in your chest, like an ember catching flame.

Noticing Exhaustion

After days of relentless training, grueling missions, and barely any sleep, you were running on fumes. your movements were slower, your focus slightly off—things only a trained eye would notice. But Elias saw it.

During a weapons check, you fumbled with your rifle, dropping the magazine with a sharp clatter. The room went silent. cursed under your breath, bending down to grab it, but before you could, a pair of boots stopped right in front of you.

Elias.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just stared down at you, arms on his hips. The weight of that silence was almost worse than being yelled at.

"How many hours of sleep have you had?"

You hesitated. "Enough, sir."

Elias arched an eyebrow. "That so? Because last I checked, ‘enough’ doesn’t leave you this sloppy." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "I’m not running my people into the ground. You’re no good to me half-dead, so you’re taking the next twelve hours to get some damn rest. That’s an order."

You opened your mouth to protest "Sir" Elias cut you off. "Say one more word, and I’ll make it twenty-four. Now go."

It wasn’t kindness. It wasn’t pity. It was an order—one laced with a concern he’d never admit out loud.

The Realization:

It wasn’t an immediate thing—realizing that Elias was more than just a commanding person.

You had been under his leadership for years, and it had always been about discipline, orders, and the mission.

But somewhere along the way, those orders started sounding less like a commander barking at a subordinate and more like a father looking after his own.

It was in the way Elias noticed the little things—when you were exhausted, when you were unfocused, when you were pushing yourself too damn hard.

You had spent so long looking for approval, for recognition, and for a while, you thought Elias was just another hardass CO who expected perfection.

But Elias wasn’t just tough—he cared. Not in a soft way, not in a way that he would ever admit outright, but in the only way a hardened soldier knew how.

It wasn’t something you liked to admit—not even to yourself.

You never thought much about family. Not really. Life had been about survival, about moving forward, about being a soldier first and a person second. But sometimes… sometimes, that hollow feeling crept in when you least expected it.

Like now.

You sat a few feet away, absently cleaning your rifle, when you saw them—Elias and his sons, Logan and Hesh, talking like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You weren’t eavesdropping. Not really. But you couldn’t help listening.

"You two are getting sloppy," Elias muttered, arms crossed. "Hesh, your stance was too open. Logan, you hesitated at the last second."

The words were sharp, but there was something else beneath them—something steady, something certain. A father speaking to his sons, knowing they would listen and believed in them.

"C’mon, Dad, we still completed the drill," Hesh chuckled, a small, barely-there grin on his face.

Elias let out a short huff of laughter. "Barely."

Logan and Hesh kept talking, their words easy, their smiles unguarded. Elias listened, shaking his head but smiling all the same.

You exhaled slowly through your nose, pretending to focus on your rifle, but your fingers tightened around the weapon.

It was normal. Family banter. Criticism softened by familiarity. A father’s voice carrying weight but never pressing too hard.

It was natural.

And you felt like a stranger watching through a window.

You told yourself it was stupid.

You were part of the team. You had earned your place. Elias respected you. The others had your back.

But no matter how many times you drilled that into your skull, there were moments that made you feel like an outsider.

Like the way Hesh could roll his eyes when Elias reminded them that they only had each other—and still, Elias would stop, give him a look, half stern, half concerned, before offering a small, knowing smile. You had cursed Hesh and logan under your breath more than once, thinking how damn lucky they were to have a father like Elias.

Like the way Logan barely had to speak, yet Elias always understood him anyway.

And maybe that was what made the hollow feeling worse.

Because Elias was the closest thing you’d ever had to a father.

But he wasn’t even related to you.

Not Just Another Soldier

The mission was supposed to be clean—get in, secure intel, get out. But things went to hell fast. The enemy had been waiting, ambush set, gunfire tearing through the air before anyone had time to react properly.

You had been holding his ground, covering Keegan’s six when the pain hit. A sharp, burning agony ripping through your torso.

You barely had time to register the shot before You were on the ground.

“Y/N DOWN!”

Everything blurred. you could hear shouting, but it was distant—like you were sinking underwater. The weight of your gear suddenly felt suffocating.

And then—hands. Strong, steady, familiar hands pressing against your wound.

"Stay with me!" Elias’ voice sliced through the noise, commanding, but there was something buried beneath it—something raw. Something you’d never expected to hear from him.

Panic.

Elias Walker didn’t panic. Not in the field. Not in the face of death. Not ever.

Yet, his grip was relentless, pressing down on the wound with such force it almost felt like he was trying to hold you together. His hands, usually steady as stone, now trembled slightly, but his eyes never left yours.

"Merrick, Keegan—covering fire, now! We need an evac, ASAP!" His orders rang out, sharp and urgent, Now his gaze was fixed, locking onto you as though he could will you to stay conscious.

Around you, the world exploded in action—Merrick and Keegan firing, pushing the enemy back, their movements fluid and practiced. But Elias? He didn’t move. He stayed there, kneeling beside you, a sentinel, refusing to leave your side.

You tried to breathe, but it came out as a wet, broken gasp. The air burned, the pain almost too much to bear.

Shit.

It was bad.

Real bad.

You were fading fast, the edges of your vision slipping into darkness. Everything felt distant, like you were no longer fully part of the world around you.

Your fingers twitched weakly, reaching for Elias’ sleeve—not out of desperation, not out of fear. Just to hold on. To ground yourself in something.

Elias glanced down at you, his jaw tight, a muscle ticking beneath his skin. "Don’t you dare give up, son."

And just like that, the words spilled out.

"I see you as a father, Elias."

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t some grand confession. It was just the truth—simple and undeniable. The truth you’d buried under years of discipline, of pushing forward, of convincing yourself it didn’t matter.

But it did.

And now, as blood pooled beneath you, as Elias held you together, keeping you tethered to life—those words broke free, and you couldn’t hold them back any longer.

Elias froze.

Elias’ grip on you tightened, his usually unreadable face cracking just slightly, betraying a flicker of something unspoken.

You coughed, the taste of iron thick on your tongue, but you kept going—because if you were going to die here, at least Elias would know.

"I never had one." Your voice was weak, barely audible over the chaos around you. "But you—you were the closest thing I ever had."

Elias’ throat worked, his chest rising with a breath he didn’t release, like he wanted to say something, anything—but nothing came out. His hands stayed firm, steady, holding you like you were the only thing left in the world.

For a moment, you thought you saw something in his eyes—something raw, something real, something that wasn’t meant to be there. But then—

Everything faded.

Darkness swallowed you whole.

Congratulations you are alive

The first thing you noticed was the silence.

No gunfire. No shouting. Just the soft, rhythmic beep of a heart monitor cutting through the still air. The faint, sterile scent of antiseptic clung to the room. Your body ached, a dull throb that reminded you of one undeniable truth:

You were alive.

With a groan, you forced your eyes open. The bright lights overhead pierced your senses, making you flinch. Your limbs felt heavy, leaden. But then, as you turned your head just enough, you saw him.

Elias.

He sat across the room, his posture rigid, arms crossed, his gaze locked on you the instant you moved.

Not just your CO. Not just your commander.

But your father figure.

A weak, dry chuckle escaped you. "Didn’t think I’d wake up."

Elias shook his head, his face still set in that familiar, unyielding sternness—but his eyes were different. There was something raw in them, something unguarded. "Neither did I."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning.

You licked your dry lips, the words escaping in a rasp. "Where are the others?"

Elias leaned back slightly, his arms still crossed, his gaze unwavering. "Merrick and Keegan are handling the debrief. Hesh and Logan are outside." His voice softened, just enough for you to catch. "They've been here since we got you out."

You blinked slowly, letting the weight of his words settle into you like a stone sinking into water.

They had stayed.

Elias had stayed.

A tight, painful lump formed in your throat. You swallowed, the motion feeling like shards of glass scraping against your insides. "Did I... actually say that shit out loud?" You said bringing the topic and what you have said.

The question hung in the air, thick with embarrassment, with uncertainty. But Elias didn’t look away, his expression unreadable, as if your confession hadn’t shattered anything between you—just left it exposed, raw.

Elias gave a slow, measured nod.

You groaned, dragging a shaky hand over your face. "Damn. Thought I was just thinking it."

Elias exhaled sharply, not quite a laugh, but something close—something that spoke of years of unspoken tension, of moments like these.

A beat of silence stretched between you, the kind that felt heavy, pregnant with something unspoken. Then, finally—

"You weren't wrong."

You turned your head slightly, your eyes locking with Elias’.

"What?"

The word slipped out before you could stop it, the confusion in your voice thick, unsure. What did he mean? What was he saying?

Elias’ gaze was unwavering, steady, like the ground beneath you was about to shift. "I’m not good at saying crab like this, but—you weren’t wrong. About how I see you."

Your breath caught for just a moment, the words landing in your chest like a punch.

Elias leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. "You’re not just another soldier to me. Haven’t been for a long time."

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking deep into you, heavier than any bullet wound, deeper than any pain you’d ever known.

And for the first time in what felt like forever—

That hollow feeling, the one that had always lingered at the edges of your mind, wasn’t there anymore. It was gone.

You let out a slow breath, still groggy from whatever meds were coursing through your veins. Your body ached like hell, every movement a reminder of how fragile you were in this moment, but your mind felt sharper now. You were awake, alive, and painfully aware of what had just been said.

And it felt unreal.

Elias Walker, the man who had trained you like a machine, who had pushed you harder than anyone ever had, who had made sure you never slacked—wasn’t just admitting it, he was outright saying it. He saw you as something more than just another soldier.

But you couldn’t trust that. Not right now.

You shifted slightly, wincing at the dull pain that stabbed through your side. “Sir, you don’t have to say that.” Your voice came out rough, quiet, the kind of sound that only comes from the edge of exhaustion. “I just got shot—I get it. People say shit when they think someone’s dying—”

“Shut up.”

The command was sharp, cutting through your words like a blade. Elias' gaze locked onto yours, unwavering, and for the first time, you saw the weight of something real in his eyes.

You blinked, your gaze shifting to Elias, whose expression remained as unyielding as ever. His arms were crossed, posture firm, but the sharpness in his voice was impossible to ignore.

"I don’t say things just to say them." His gaze held yours, unwavering, like a soldier scanning the battlefield. "I’m not the type to sit here and sympathize just because you're lying in a hospital bed."

"If I want to say something, I say it."

You felt your throat tighten, the words settling heavy in your chest.

You knew Elias wasn't the kind of man to waste words. Everything he said had weight, had meaning.

So why did this feel so heavy?

Elias sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, before looking at you again, his expression unreadable. "You think I’d go easy on you now, just because you took a bullet? I Have seen worse than your situation."

You let out a weak, dry chuckle. "Kinda hoped so."

Elias huffed, the corners of his mouth twitching into something like a smirk. "Not a damn chance."

Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, not tense. It was simply there—a quiet space filled with the weight of things that had been said, things that had been left unsaid.

You swallowed, shifting slightly in the bed, feeling the pull of pain in your side. Hesitation tugged at your words, but you pushed it down. “So you mean it?”

Elias didn’t hesitate. His response was steady, sure, like a command. “Yeah.”

“I do.”

You let your head fall back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. Processing.

For so long, you’d thought you were alone in this. That the way you felt—the way you wanted to see Elias as more than just your commander—was something you’d buried deep inside, thinking it was one-sided.

But now?

Now, Elias had made it clear.

You weren’t just another soldier.

And maybe—just maybe—you never had been.