fluffycatsposts

[fluffycatsposts]

This was a dream I had, and there is more to it. I would like to write part 2, but just let me know what you think.

Tw: guns, virus, lost loved ones, monsters, violence.

There has been an illness around. An illness that people have been warning us about. They tell you to watch who you are talking to, don't trust your family or friends. Youd never know who it might be.

It started on a normal day, just like all the others. We were getting lunch together, when a alarm went off out our phone, warning of an outbreak.

People went crazy, shooting each other without second thought, barricading their homes, raiding stores. No one even knew what the outbreak was. We were told to not go outside, to stay away from other peopl, don't let people in, and especially don't go outside at night.

Weeks would pass, people would be killed, but ultimately, no one in my family had an idea on what the virus was. There was no information and we needed food.

My aunt decided she would be the one to go out, after all, she always took care of the family. She left in her grey jeep, feeling us to stay inside and don't worry about her.

We didnt hear from her for hours, we were worried as the sun started to set. Did she get caught? Did someone shoot her? We thought it was the end until she knocked on the door with bags in her hands. I went to to open the the door when my grandmother stopped me, bringing her finger to her mouth. listening, you could hear her outside breathing heavily.

"Y/n, come open the door" she panted. She coughed a few times after. She sounded sick.

"Y/n come on! I don't want to be out here! Open the door!" She said louder.

My grandmother slowly moved me away from the door, grabbing a rifle of the table as the voice from outside started to bang on the door.

"Let me in!" It yelled, in a deeper voice as the banging got louder, then there was a another sound. Farther away in the distance, that sounded like a call. I could hear the steps walk away from the door and it became silent.

My grandmother didn't let me move for a while until she checked that what was once her daughter was gone, and she grabbed the groceries from the front porch and brought them in.

That was months ago.

Now, I go out scavenging for food when it gets low. Always coming back before dark, sometimes I would get lucky, sometimes I wouldn't. I would rarely see other people, but often kept our distance, saving our ammo.

We were getting low on food again, so I set out in the morning, taking my grandma's red car, having searched a bunch of stores nearby, I would have to go out further today. Which I was okay with, sometimes it was nice to get out of the house.

As I drove, the roads were pretty clear, besides a few pile ups or a line of traffic that I had to drive around. The season was turning to fall, a small chill in the air as the leaves started to fall to the ground. As I parked at a store, I didn't see any signs that anyone had been here for a while so I went in with a flashlight.

Searching for food and essentials, I grabbed a shopping cart and pushed it around as I started to look for what I could get. Grabbing clothes for my grandmother to wear, and food that was canned and didn't get grabbed. I had a good feeling as I around the store until I hear something shuffling in the nearby. Immediately, I thought it was an animal, I've came across plenty while searching stores for food, until it spoke.

"Hello?" Someone asked. It sounded like a little girl. I paused and looked around, not seeing anyone, but I didn't want to respond. "Hello? Are you there? I'm trying to find my mom."

Fuck. I can't just leave a kid out here alone. "Hello?" I responded "where are you?" I asked as I pushed the cart past some aisles.

"Over here" she said from my left in the toy aisle. I looked at her when I saw her. She had dirty clothes and messy hair. A dirty face and was holding a little plushie that she must have gotten from the store.

I crouched down "what you doing in here?" I asked her.

"I followed my mom in here" she answered.

"Yea? What does she look like?" I questioned as I glanced around.

"I don't remember" she mumbled. Instant bells went off on my head. I looked at the girl, shining the light on her a bit more, her eyes were blown. She was infected. I stood up slowly.

"I will go look for her" I said calmly. "You stay here, yea?" I went to go push my cart when she started to get upset.

"I don't want to be alone. Stay with me!" She cried. I didn't miss a beat when I started to push the cart away, walking quickly as her screams and cries got deeper. I glanced behind me and there was a whole monster in now in the aisle that she was in. Now would be the time to run.

Pushing the cart as fast as it would go, I could hear her destroying aisle behind me.

"Don't leave me!" It yelled in a distorted voice as more aisles get pushed or knocked over.

Running out of the store, I fumbled with the keys in my pocket as I tried to pop the trunk.

"Now is not the time for this" I mumbled as I finally get it open. i started to shove things in, glancing at the doors of the store, still hearing things get destroyed inside and it begging me not to leave.

Finally getting everything inside the car, I slammed the trunk closed and start the car. The monster never broke out of the store, ateasy not what I saw as I drove away. I sigh in relief as I look ahead of me on the road to back home.

[fluffycatsposts]

I can imagine Ghost in this shirt, he would be shopping with Johnny (Johnny having found it first) and joked about him wearing it and what the others would think.

[fluffycatsposts]

Lmao I forgot to post this months old Ghoap gear swap art here 👍

[fluffycatsposts]

"together for 25 years"

Tw: death, suicide, gun

Just a little story, no names, might be a bit confusing

It all started when both of their parents moved in next to each other and became best friends with each other. Often they would hang out or have dinners together, never really seen apart from each other. By miracle, both of the mothers had the same due date.

One mother had a boy, and the other a girl. They grew up next to each other, becoming friends, then best friends. They faced the challenges of school together, sticking by each other sides during pre-k to fifth grade. They were stuck together like glue, never seen without the other.

When the girl was picked on in elementary, the boy was there to save her, and when the boy started to fall behind, she was there to help him with his studies.

As the beginning of jr high came, they would face more challenges. Separate classes, more bullies from both the jr high and high school, the growing of the friend group and drama. She tried to stay in touch with him, but they grew apart by the time they hit high school.

She watched him get closer to girls, always finding herself jealous, even when she denied of having feelings for him, but never found a boyfriend for herself.

As the first year past in the school, she found herself studying more, paying more attention to classes and studies instead of the drama in the friend group. she studied so much that she wasn't really considered part of the friend group anymore.

The second year came, she had heard rumors of a fight breaking out in the halls, but tried to pay no mind to it until she heard the it was about the boy that had been her best friend up to a couple years ago.

After school, she had went over to his house to get answers. When he opened the door she saw the bruises and black eye he had. After much heated arguing, he finally told her that his girlfriend (now ex) had been cheating on him with another guy.

With the new information, she felt bad and tried to mend their relationship. Now, like they have done in their younger days, they hanged out more and studied together again. He confessed that he was failing his classes, and she was there to help him.

The next year approached, he had asked her to be his date to the upcoming homecoming dance, of course she said yes. But now, she didnt know what they were anymore. Were they friends? best friends? or something more? Even with these thoughts, she had fun with him. Dancing, eating snacks, and just talking in general. But has the school days went on, she found herself preparing for harder classes while he was stuck in the support classes, needing help with subjects, even if she tried her best to teach him what he was not understanding.

On their senior year, she was preparing for college, while he was working a job. She found herself falling for him, this time she actually accepted her feelings, but would never tell him. They graduated together, celebrating with family and friends. Weeks later, she would get an envelope that she was accepted into her dream college, whole he was barely making above minimum wage.

As she started her college career, they found an apartment together, moving in with each other so they would never be apart. She was still unsure what they were as was he. They started going on what they called "friendship-dates", were they would go on date like events but remained platonic. Finally on one date, she confesses, unable to keep it to herself anymore, that her feelings for him went beyond friendship and that she would like to become more. She sate there silently, waiting for harsh judgement or disgust. but that never came.

He tackled her into a hug, hugging her tight as he then also confessed his feelings for her. Their "friendship-date" were now actual dates. She would go to her classes and he would go to work.

Months would pass and their feelings for each other never change. They tried to spend every moment with each other as long as it didnt bother with his work or her classes.

A night drive after her classes takes an unfortunately turn. She was driving to their home when it started to down pour hard. She doesnt mind driving in the rain, she turns her music up, blocking out the sounds of the rain and sadly also the tornado sirens. The rain turns into small size-like golf balls and the wind picks up, now noticing this she keeps her calm knowing that panicking would make it worse. The wind picks up more and she car is pushed off the road and into an embankment.

The crash had disorient her, making her confused as the sound of the now softball size of hail hits the car. She reaches for her phone but finds that it must have move from its place when the crash happened. She tried to move but found her legs pinned to her steering wheel. She is trapped there for hours, no one coming to help her because of the tornado hitting the town and the car being hidden in the embankment.

Days later, after much searching, police find her, still in her car. The windshield broken from the hail storm a couple days ago, her phone just out of reach.

When the news hit her lover, he was devasted. Sobbing when the police told him that she was found unresponsive.

The day of the funeral, he stands silently, watching everyone grieve for the dead girl he loves, even now as she lays there motionless and cold. Even the makeup on her face didn't make her look anymore alive than she was dead.

After everyone had left the graveyard where she would be buried, he stayed. His mind swarming in memories of the two of them. With everyone gone, he knew what he had to do.

He sat on the ground next to her grave. Mumbling sorry and promises that they would be together again and he grabbed a gun from a holster that was hidden by his suit jacket.

Bang

[fluffycatsposts]

Ghost doesn't move on easy after Soap death, who would after seeing their best friend/ lover dead?

When the new recruit joins, he doesn't take too kindly to them, often pushing them harder during training and its overall not very friendly. He doesn't speak to them unless its necessary. Of course the rest of the team notices, Price tell the recruit to not worry about it, that Ghost will come around when he is really.

But after about a month of Ghost still not accepting that the rookie is now a part of the team. Price calls Simon into his office, when he gets there, he glares at the rookie that sits across from Price.

As Price tries to get to the bottom of why Ghost is being the way he is, Ghost zones out, having flash backs of seeing Johnny on the ground and holding him. Price would notice that Ghost has dissociated from the conversation, he tells the recruit to leave and that they will talk later.

Once the recruit is out of the room, Price manages to get Ghost attention but when Ghost looks at Price, he has tears in his eyes. Ghost breaks down, sobbing. He doesn't want to replace his best friend, he doesn't want to move on and act like Johnny's death never happened or that he wasn't a person.

Price understands, explains that the team all feels the same, but at some point they have to move on. Price recommends Ghost to go to therapy or to take some time off, to come back when he is ready.

But will Ghost ever be ready to come back?

[fluffycatsposts]

Sucker for a Happy Ending

word count-1784 GenderNeutural reader

TW: mention of blood, war, death

Price has horrible nightmares and comes to you

Gunshots, blood, explosion. You’re on the ground, not moving and half blown to bits. He rushes over, repeatedly calling your name, hoping for a response but getting nothing as you continue to lay there. Lifeless. He shakes you, trying to get a response, begging you to respond and to hold on. The world around him is silent as tears fall down his face.

He jolts awake. Another nightmare. They have been haunting him for the past week and all he can see is your body on the ground, but you're not dead, no, you’re in your own room. Asleep. It all started when the Task Force 141 was under fire. Without warning you ran for a wall to use as cover when someone had just thrown a grenade and it landed next to you. You didn't see it until the last second and moved away in time, however in Price’s mind, he had seen you die and has from then on seen you die a million times over.

He glances at his clock, seeing its 3 in the morning. He sits up as he tries to clear his mind but no use. He gets dressed and walks down the hall to your room. Knocking on the door, waking you from your sleep. You’re confused to be woken up at 3, not remembering if there was anything scheduled this early. You get up and answer the door. The sight of you standing in the doorway, confused but awake makes an invisible weight slide off his shoulder. He exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“What the hell were you doing?” he demands as he shoves past you, entering your quarters. He stands in the middle of your room like a grumpy grizzly bear, his hands on his hips.

“Sleeping?” you said, confused on why he was here at 3am. “what  were you doing?” you asked.

“Don't get smart with me” he said with a glare that would melt most people in place. “You weren't paying attention to your surroundings.” he grunts, walking closer to you. He stops in front of you, mere inches away. A scolding father would best describe his current expression. You stand there, still half awake, trying to figure out what he meant. “You could’ve died, you daft moron” he growls, grabbing your chin firmly. His eyes bore into you, looking for any sign it’s actually getting through that thick skull of yours.

“I’m sorry. I-I don’t understand” you said quietly.

“The grenade” he said “you should have been paying attention”. You finally realize what he is talking about, everything coming together. The bags under his eyes, him constantly watching you throughout the week after the mission. It now all made sense.

“Captain, I was paying attention.” you said

“Obviously you weren’t, or you would have moved when it first landed next to you.” He said. “It wasn't a drill, it was a live situation”  he snarled. When you are in danger, his usual gentle fatherly demeanor flies out of the window. Fear makes him aggressive, and he is terrified of losing you. He grabs you by the arms and shakes you like a ragdoll, “You could’ve died. Your body could have been pulverized because you just decided to not pay attention.” he bellows. He stops shaking you, hands digging into your arms. “Do you even understand what you just did to me?” he demands a face close enough that your nose would have touched if he leant in.

“No sir?” you said quietly

“I saw you stand there, not moving until the very last second.” he practically spits out, “I thought you were going to die. Do you know what it was like for me to watch you just stand there?” he lets go of you, stepping back. He looks away for a moment, breathing heavily. It's a sign that he’s trying to reign in his anger, not scream at you. He looks back at you, searching your face. “What were you thinking? Standing there like an idiot?” he demands, stepping closer to you again. He lifts a finger and points it at you. “Explain to me what the hell possessed you to do something so goddamn stupid and reckless.”

“I just didn’t see it when it first landed” you said “ when I saw it, I had thought to use myself to cover it instead of moving away to protect the others”

His heart feels like it's in his throat at the thought of you getting near it, much less using yourself to cover it. “You idiot!” he snaps, grabbing you again. He grabs you by the biceps, giving you a shake. “Don't ever do that again, you hear me ?!”” he smells giving you a shake. You nod, agreeing. He gives you a pointed glare, searching your eyes. He wants to be sure that you know exactly What you did was stupid and dangerous. “I mean it, you daft prick. Next time, you get away from the grenade, no thinking.” he warns, not dropping the grip on your arms.

“Ok!” you agree. He tightens his hold on your arms, pulling you an inch closer. 

“You have no clue what it does to me to see you get that close to danger, do you?” he asked. He can’t stop thinking about cradling your dead body in his arms every time he goes to sleep.

“I’m sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!”

He lets out a scoff, rolling his eyes. “Scare me?” he repeats “don't you get it? I thought I was going to lose you, you stupid moron. I thought I watched you die” he hisses.

“But I didn’t! I’m still alive!” you argue. A frustrated sigh escapes his lips as he shakes his head at you. 

“You’re here and alive right now, but what happens next time? Or the next?!” he demands. He squeezes your arms, the thought of losing you, slowly driving him mad.

“It won’t happen again,” you promised.

He lets out another scoff. “How do you know it won’t? You weren’t even paying enough attention and barely made it out alive this time. You wont notice next time, how the hell am I supposed to trust you to pay attention?” he snaps. The grip on your arms is a bit painful at this point.

You wince a little, “I will be more careful” His expression darkens as he sees you wince from his grip. It wasn’t his intention to grab you so tightly he hurts you, he’s just trying to get his message through.

“You have to more than just careful” he says in a lower, slightly calmer tone. “You have to be more aware. You can't be on just instinct while in combat or you’ll end up dead”. He looks down at his hands, looking a little guilty that he squeezed your arms so tightly that it hurts. Slowly, his grip on them relaxed, shifting to gently rub the no doubt sore skin. “That was dangerous, you're lucky that you didn’t die. How can You promise that you won’t do something that stupid again?” he asks, looking back up at you. He isnt letting you go until he knows for certain  that your head isn't all the way up your arse.

“I’ll make sure to be more aware of my surroundings.” you said “more observant”

He signs, raking a hand through his hair. He looks tired, the stress of almost watching get blown to Hell was wearing him down. “Good God, you have no idea how stupid that was, do you?” he grumbles, walking past you and taking a seat in a chair. He drops his head in his hands, trying to ease the headache from his constant worry about you. “You got any idea how hard it was for me to watch you put yourself in danger like that?” he mutters, dropping his hands in his lap. You are sitting on your bed. “You don’t, do you” he asks, peering up at you from his seat in the chair.

You were quiet for a moment, looking at him. “..want a hug?” you asked quietly. His expression darkens as he looks at you. Does he want a hug? What hell of a question if that?

“Of course I do, you idiot” he snaps, standing up and stomping over to you, grabbing you and pulling you into a tight bear hug. He holds you against his chest for a while, arms wrapped firmly around you. He buries his face in your neck, he can smell the scent of your shampoo. “You better never do this to me again” he mumbled to you, the anger that drove him here melting into frustrated worry. He holds you as tightly as possible without hurting you, like you would disappear if he even dared to let you go. His breath is warm against your skin, the sound of it shaky with pent up worry of the last few days. “For a minute, all I could think about was cradling your dead body in my arms,” he mumbled.

“But you don’t have to think about that anymore,” I whispered. He tightens her grip on you, as if you were going to disappear any second.

“Stop doing stupid stuff from now on, then I won’t have to” he mutters. His chest is pressed against yours, the beating of his heart rapid in its thumping. You leaned back a littling, pulling him into the bed.

“I think you need to sleep,” you whispered. He lets you drag him to the bed, letting you pull him on to it. He lays down with a tired huff, reaching and wrapping his arms around you more tightly.

“I can’t sleep” he mumbled, holding you to him like his most precious treasure.

“Wanna watch a movie then?” you asked. He lets out a small hum of agreement, one hand coming up to run fingers through your hair.

“Sure, " he said quietly, “as long as I don’t have to move.” he adds with a tired chuckle. You grab your laptop that was on your nightstand, it was a bit of a stretch, but you managed to grab it. You  logged into Netflix.

“Anything in mind?” you asked, browsing through everything. He shakes his head, continuing to lazily run his finger through your hair.

“I don’t care, pick something” he hums, closing his eyes. Looking through. You picked Five Feet Apart. He quirks a brow at your choice, opening his eyes to look at you. “Really?” he grunted “you picked a romance movie?”

“It's a good movie, or so I hear” 

“ I never pegged you for the type to enjoy romance movies,” he uttered.

“Im a sucker for a happy ending”

[fluffycatsposts]

I need this

A Dichotomy of Thought || 1

You move next door to a disabled veteran and his troubled partner.

Warnings and details: disabled!Johnny; established Ghoap future Ghoap/reader; domestic abuse (not Ghoap); heavy themes of suicide, violence, abuse, poor coping mechanisms, prescription drugs. I’m not sure if I have anything here, let me know if anyone is interested in this series.

#

A helicopter goes down in the mountains of Kazakhstan and it takes a piece of Soap with it. They never recovered the arm—nor the three service members who lost more than their arms in the crash. The thought is one that Johnny’s mind cycles back to often, in moments of quiet or while he lies awake at night feeling tremors in an arm that’s no longer attached. Suddenly he’ll wonder: what are those bones up to, buried in snow and ice so deep the sun will never touch them again? Do they miss me?

Fuck, he misses them.

#

After the accident, the world is very black and white. Mostly it’s black. Blackness at the edge of his vision threatens to creep in when he stands too long, when he stands on his own, when he turns his head too fast. Anytime his blood pressure rises over that Goldilocks number of 120/80, it threatens to drop him faster than Simon used to during their first weeks of training together in the 141.

The doctors say that he’s a miracle. The traumatic brain injury had his brain swelling and pushing at the confines of his skull like water freezing in a bottle. Give him a little longer in the cold and maybe his cap would blow off. Except it hadn’t; he was still dealing with swelling all over: in his thalamus, his hypothalamus, in his cerebrum, all the words he’d never bothered to learn in school and couldn’t fucking remember now no matter how hard he tries. He gets the point. Simon does too. Johnny should be dead.

Instead he just wishes he were.

Even now, when he can remember his name and Simon’s and even (more often than not) the name of the waitress who serves them chicken and waffles at the local diner every Saturday, there are still more bad days than good. Still more darkness than light. Still more nights waking up to the sound of helicopter blades slowing, the relentless hum becoming a deafening chop chop chop like the thrum of his heartbeat. There’s that moment of weightlessness when the helo goes down and he has yet to go with it that makes him wake in a cold sweat, nauseous and looking for something to be sick in.

Through it all, Simon is there. Simon is the light. He’d laugh if he heard Johnny say that—though a laugh is probably too generous. Simon doesn’t laugh much these days. Not when he spends three fourths of his time taking care of Johnny and the other fourth thinking about how better to take care of Johnny. If it weren’t for Simon, Johnny would have done himself in by now. There’s a thousand ways to do it; plenty of arms and munitions in the apartment they share together. Or there are the pain pills, if he wanted it to look like an accident. A few too many of those and he could crawl right through that darkness in his vision and find out what’s on the other side. As soon as the thought crosses his mind (and it crosses his mind more often than that fucking chicken crosses the road), the guilt comes, like anyone and everyone can read it on his mind: his mama rest her soul, Simon, Jesus on the cross. After all of the work that has gone into him, into saving his broken body and mind, into rehabilitating him, how can he even think of throwing in the towel?

Turns out it’s pretty fucking easy to think about it.

As a matter of fact, he’s thinking about it the first time he meets you, when you nearly do the job for him.

It’s spring, cool, and he’s working up a goddamn sweat anyway. Simon stands in the alleyway, smoking and pretending not to watch as Johnny hobbles up and down the length of the parking lot with his forearm crutch. His armpit throbs. His knee throbs. His head throbs as he continues along, beating out a strange little rhythm on the concrete—thum-thump, thum-thump, thum-thump. He says all the curse words he knows and dreams up a few new ones too. It’s supposed to be getting easier, but Simon just pushes him harder to make up for the ground he covers. That’s one of the shitty parts about loving an ex-military man; he never goes easy on you.

Johnny’s thinking about the tub upstairs, just big enough for him if he curls in on himself. Sometimes a hot bath helps the knots in his muscles, but sometimes when Simon leaves the room to get a washcloth Johnny will slip beneath the surface of the water and see how long he can hold his—

Then you come out of absolutely nowhere in your shitty little four-door and nearly hit him. As a matter of fact, you do hit his crutch, sending it sprawling out of his hand and sending him clattering to the ground on his bad side. For a moment, he thinks: this is it. This is how I die. Not in a helicopter in Kazahkstan but here, now, today, and he can’t tell if it’s relief in his belly or regret. Then your tires squeal like pigs on the pavement, the smell of burnt rubber thick in the air, and he is face to face with you and your horror, close enough that the air from your hasty turn brushes along his body and sends his heart pounding.

“What the steaming bloody fucking Jesus do you think you’re doing?” he finds himself shouting, pain lancing all along his side from his fake knee to the stump of his arm. Simon is there all at once, cigarette abandoned to smolder to ash in the alleyway, putting his hands under Johnny’s armpits and lifting him like a child even when he yelps in pain like a kicked dog. Johnny leans against him heavily. The edges of his vision are turning black. He bangs his fist against the hood of your car. “Did Jesus send ye? Did He tell ye to finish the fucking job and do me in? ‘That’s the cunt right there, beam him with your car’? Did he tell you that?”

You reluctantly get out of the car, not even wearing a goddamn seatbelt. The car’s soft, insistent alarm begins to remind you with unending politeness that the door is open and your seatbelt is off while you stand there, pallid, eyes huge and watering in the face of Johnny’s shouts.

He sees then that one of your eyes is swollen almost completely shut, blood turning the white sclera pink like the fine mist of blood over the snow when they finally pulled Johnny free from the helicopter. No wonder you didn’t see him coming, with a single functioning eye. He’s opened his mouth to tell you so (and to tell you a dozen other fucking things) when he nearly swoons, the rug of the world being tugged under his feet by the hand of God.

Simon slips a firmer arm around Johnny’s waist.

A man gets out of the passenger side. He begins to berate you for not paying attention, for nearly killing Johnny. Johnny agrees, but is annoyed all the same. He’s the one who almost died; leave the shouting to him.

“I’m so sorry,” you choke out, tears dripping near-constant from your eyes. “I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry. Let me get your—”

“Done enough, haven’t you?” Simon asks cooly. It sends you reeling back into the car where you sit with both hands over your mouth, chest hitching with your panicked sobs.

“Hey, is he, like, okay?” your partner asks.

“Fuck off,” Simon says, deftly ushering Johnny over one shoulder and holding the crutch in the other. He carries them back to the elevators without breaking a sweat, and Johnny cries on his shoulder from the pain of it, the sheer embarrassment of it the whole way home. The day before Kazahkstan he couldn’t have been able to tell you the last time he cried; now he cries every fucking day from one reason or another.

“I’m fine,” Johnny says when they make it back to the apartment and Simon eases him down into a chair. They arrange his knee in the one position that has it throbbing less, but then Johnny bats Simon’s hands away. “Go. I’m fine. I don’t need you hoverin’ over me.”

“Alright.”

“Fuck off with yer alright.”

Simon doesn’t say anything. Johnny hears his footsteps leading toward the bedroom they share—hardly a bedroom, how long has it been since they slept there together peacefully? Since they fucked? Johnny can tell you how long it’s been. Since before things went black and white. The footsteps stop then.

“You stepped in front of her, Johnny,” Simon says, his voice low but not quiet enough to count as a whisper. “I watched you do it. Don’t think you’re so fucking slick.”

He shuts the bedroom door behind him.

[fluffycatsposts]

The Hunger

first time writing in a long time, might do a part 2. Give me tips as you see fit and I'lll do better. word count: 2088

warnings: blood, gore, cannibalism, y/n, anxiety

You’ve been captured for days in the dark hallways, the only exit is a locked door. Dead bodies of those that were once in your very same shoes.

“PLEASE!! ANYONE! HELP ME!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, your voice echoed off the walls that the enemy had trapped you in. You looked at the dead bodies that you have been feeding off of for the last couple of days before sliding down the wall to the dirty floor. Only you would survive the encounter once the Taskforce 141 would come to your rescue, and from there you were never the same.

Weeks, almost a month later, you haven’t told anyone what had happened in the halls and now here you sat in enemy territory, meant to clear out a section of the base but instead you were feasting on a body of the enemy that you had just recently shot. Too busy focused on eating the poor soul’s flesh and blood, getting it all over your mouth and hands, you didn't notice the footsteps of your lieutenant approaching. 

Your eyes caught movement and you looked up to see Ghost standing there, shocked and in pure horror as he saw the blood coating your hands and mouth. To him you looked unnatural, it was hard to identify that it was you.You were extremely pale, looking pale and starved, your face and hands more boney, showing signs of weight loss.

“Y/n…?” he asked, not sounding too sure about who or even what was in front of him.

You didn't answer, only looking away, hiding your face from him and moving your hands away from the body you were just eating. You were absently chewing on a piece of flesh in your mouth.

“y..y/n, what happened?” his voice slightly cracked, “You…You’re…”. He swallowed the sudden nausea. Ghost knew he couldn’t get himself to look back at you. Not because he was disgusted at what you’d done, but because he didn’t want to see his friend, his ally, covered in blood after eating dead flesh.

“Wh-why?” he asked.

“ There is no good answer,” you replied quietly, ashamed. Ghost has seen signs of stuff like this before. Something that only comes from eating infected flesh. Something only referred to as ‘The Hunger’ because no one really knew what it was or how to treat it.

“Is it hunger? Is that why you…?” he trailed off. You nodded to his question, unable to really speak because you were feeling guilty about your actions.

“How long?” Ghost asked quietly, “How long have you been eating people?”

“Started a few weeks ago.” you answered “I told Price not to bring me along for this mission. When asked for a reason, I couldn’t tell him.” you admitted.

“...How many…?” his voice filled with disappointment and his face fell to the floor. He was in disbelief and felt ashamed. How could he have not seen the signs?

“...killed? One. Eaten, two” you answered honestly.

“A-Are you still hungry..?” he asked hesitantly. You didn’t really have an answer for that question, so you stayed silent. His stomach churned again as he thought about the symptoms of hunger. “Can I ask you for a favor?” he asked calmly, “I need you to open up your mouth.” Confused, you did and he stared at you for a few seconds before coming closer, he started to check your gums and tongue. He had to see how deep the hunger was. Only in his mind he dreaded the results of what he’d seen.. The truth… 

You stayed silent, not sure what was going on as he muttered to himself. His stomach sank when he realized that your gums were extremely pale while your tongue was blood stained red. He sighed as he put his hand under your chin and held it firm. You could see the concern on his face as you shivered under his grasp…  His tone was gentle as always as he asked a certain question.

“Do you still feel human?” he asked calmly. Confused by what he meant, you answered honestly.

“I- I think so.”

“ You… You think so…?” He raised an eyebrow, as a sense of worry filled his body. He was desperate to confirm otherwise. You somehow hear that what he saw was not true.

“How would I not be?” you asked.

“..Do you believe that what you’ve done…is a human response? Eating human flesh because… you were hungry?” he asked. You thought about it, the disease clouding your judgment, taking more time than Ghost would have expected for an answer, but you shook your head in the end. “ then what would you call it… y/n?” he asked, “... when you think to yourself… Do you feel human?”. He stared into your eyes. He wished to hear a different answer than what he feared. He wished you were.. Just you. Not a cannibal…Not an animal..

“I-I don’t know” you started “I just feel tired and weaker than normal”. His eyebrow lowered to the point he scowled… He felt frustrated at the fact that he couldn’t figure out why you were like this. What had triggered something in you to want to eat flesh. Was it truly hunger?.. But that wasn’t possible… Human hunger is a natural thing and it wouldn’t be enough to drive someone to cannibalism… especially not you.. You were strong willed, you had morals. What the hell was going on?

Feeling tired and knowing that the mission was likely over, you looked at Ghost, “Can we go back to the base?” you asked quietly, you weren't sure if you were going to make it back to the extraction point without passing out.

“Y/n….i…i…” he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. “Sure… let’s just.. Go back..” he sighed, helping you off the floor. He then turned away, the fear of wanting to know what had happened to you only raised his anxiety.. But he’d have to face it. For your ake and his. “C-come on..” he said as he led you to an exit.

He was dead silent as he walked, all his focus was on making sure you were behind him. He was able to hear and sense every step you took. He had some many questions for you and would ask them when the time was right. Right now he had to make sure that you were alright for now.

“ I dont think ive ever been this tired before..” you yawned, “ i could sleep for days.” he didn't say anything, but what you had just said… filled him with terror. For how could he not have noticed this? But then again… the hunger that clouded you…it made you weak, it blinded him… made him not be as vigilant as he thought he was. Your fatigue was caused by starvation…

“..You ever gone through this?” you asked. He had to think hard about it. Trying to remember all the time he went through hunger. But there was none quite as bad. Your hunger was far worse. It was an animalistic thirst for flesh… his jaw tightened up as he finally answered. 

“...no.. never like this”

“Seen anyone else like it?” you asked. He paused for a long while. He wanted to make sure that a lie didn’t pass his lips. To tell you no would be deceitful and yet… the truth hurt even worse.

“..Yes..”

“What was that like?”. Your question made his breath hitched up, a sign of frustration and fear. Memories came to mind of seeing someone else suffer such a condition of an animalist hunger. The same hunger that he witnessed in you.

“ Terrible…they were weak. So weak and they were out of control..” he answered quietly. You looked at him. His stare was grim. He couldn’t look at you properly, he felt ashamed. Ashamed that somehow, he had managed to let you come this far into madness… ashamed that it was this bad. “..I’m gonna ask you something..” he said, “ have you noticed any differences about you… physically or mentally?”

You thought about it for a moment. You were never one to look after yourself as much as you should. Always putting others needs before your own your whole life so it was natural for you to not notice changes about yourself. “Weight loss i guess.” you answered

“Is that the only change?” Ghost asked. 

“As far as I know” you answered. He didn’t know what else to say…but he had to tell you something…it might have been cruel…

“...well… I saw blood stained on your gums and tongue when I checked you…” he said as you walked beside him, he stayed silent as he kept looking forward. You could see the worry and frustration on his face. “..I need you to promise me something.” he said which only added to the unsettling and dreadful tone. You nodded as you passed the bodies of fallen enemies, each of them looking tempting. Your lack of verbal answer only grew the worry and concern he had for you. The thought of what you would do after you were satisfied with human flash came to mind and left a bad taste within him as he asked the following question. “...would you ever eat… another human again?” 

You were silent. “...I don't know” you couldn't give him the answer he wanted and you knew that. It was absolutely one of the last answers he wanted to hear. You didn't assure him, you didn't say no… you just couldn't bring yourself to promise… and he couldn’t blame you ... he wouldn't judge you…because he knows you're not an evil person.. You just had no control over the cravings.

“ Then what about the next mission…? Would you still want to come along with us…?” he asked.

“Probably best if I stayed at base.” you answered. He thought about it, you would be away from the battlefield, away from the killing and away from people…but he still had more questions still. 

“Can I ask you a question before we head back?” he asked “ a…personal thing…” he added. The question he was about to ask you was something he feared. Yet he had to ask it, it was necessary for your survival. “...Do you enjoy eating human flesh..? Do you… like the taste of it?”. When you didn't answer, he let out a deep breath…hoping that the silence meant “no”. The answer he would have preferred rather than you telling him what he did not want to hear.. And yet, the silence just terrified him. Because that meant it was neither  a yes or a no…it was just plain silence. And it made him shiver with concern and anxiety and fear.

“I’ve had worse things to eat and things better to eat” you said quietly but it didn't stop filling him with mixed emotions…a wave of anxiety and fear washed over him when he realized what you said. You might as well have told him “yes I like the taste” but he had to ask further….

“..but do you regret it? Eating human flesh?”

“ yes” you answered without hesitation. 

“...that's…relieving..” he muttered… relieved that you felt regret for that heinous act. It was something that reassured him. For now he was concerned about your mental state. If you mind would stay stable…that what concerned him right now… you stepped over some bodies as you made your way through the threshold to outside. “ Will you promise me..” he started “that you’ll do everything you can to resist the cravings..? That you’ll do everything you can…fight hunger…? To keep it suppressed?” he asked.

“I’ll do my best L.T” you said “i promise.” he heard your answer and it eased the worry on his mind a great deal. You would do your best which gave him hope that you would make it. 

“..thank you. I appreciate that you're willing to fight it.” he then took a deep breath as he looked over at you. You looked like a wounded animal, your hair a mess and your appearance unkempt. Your body was too weak to hold yourself together and it hurt him to see you like this.