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[hypercodation]

Hot & Heavy | Bottom! Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Top! Male Reader | Smut

Minors/Fem DNI

Request(s); "Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick with sounding, praise, and breeding if you don't mind 😃..." and "...Could you write sounding and edging a tied up Gaz. I need to make that man beg and whimper..."

Warnings; Sounding (DO NOT LOOK IT UP IF U DONT KNOW WHAT IT IS! JUST DONT READ THIS FIC!! MOVE ON!), hand jobs, anal fingering, anal sex, cream pie, bareback, withheld orgasm, little bit of praise, this is probably bad im sorry

Synopsis; there isnt even a plot man just read the warnings

A/N; haha... sorry for ... not writing in 6 months or whatever.... im back now though! right..? ...

1.7k words

Kyle sighed and shuffled in his place on the bed. his arms were tied above him, wrists secured to the headboard, and back flush to the mattress. Y/N was settled between his legs and holding his bare hips while kissing at his neck, sucking dark hickeys onto the smooth skin.

“Hurry up,” he whispered, desperately wriggling in place. Y/N snickered and sat up, adjusting his hands to hold Kyle’s thighs instead.

He looked stunning all strung up, muscles stretched from the irregular position. His eyebrows were furrowed in frustration, his face burning from desire.

“What do you want me to do?” Y/N asked. Kyle groaned with exasperation. He was hard and leaking against his stomach from nothing more than kissing and light touches that only grazed the places he wanted them.

“Anything,” he pleaded.

“Anything?” Kyle swallowed thickly but nodded. “Okay.”

Y/N smiled before climbing off the bed to gather a few items. Kyle watched him with a twinge of curiosity.

When he returned to where he was previously sitting with a bottle of lube and a small case, Kyle curled a brow. “What the hell is that?”

“You can say no,” Y/N said. He could tell Kyle was intrigued by the way he pursed his lips and eyed the case, silently waiting to see what was inside. Y/N unzipped it and opened it before tilting it so that Kyle could see its contents.

His immediate reaction was that of mild disgust, raising an eyebrow and scrunching his nose. His Upper lip pulled at one corner showing his teeth.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Y/N sheepishly nodded. He was embarrassed now. He shouldn't have brought it up. It was a foolish idea. Kyle’s expression softened as he looked at Y/N’s face and he sighed.

“We can try it.” Y/N perked up and stared at Kyle, trying to read him to make sure he wasn’t teasing him.

“Are you sure?” he asked. He was hesitant. He wouldn’t want to pressure Kyle into doing something he didn’t want to do.

Kyle shrugged as best as he could with his arms bound above his head.

“I’ll try anything once,” he said. Y/N beamed and leaned forward, kissing him on the lips before pulling away.

“Thank you.” Y/N set the case aside before placing his hands on Kyle’s abdomen. He dipped his head into the crook of Kyle’s neck and began placing kisses on the soft skin, all the while running his hands up and down his torso.

Kyle sighed and rolled his head to the other side, allowing a broader space for Y/N to mouth. Y/N inhaled deeply. The smell of Kyle’s cologne drove him mad. Everything about him did.

Y/N moved one of his hands down Kyle’s stomach, grazing his skin with his fingertips before wrapping his hand around Kyle’s cock. The latter groaned and rolled his hips up into Y/N’s hand. His desperation for touch was finally being fulfilled.

Pre-cum dripped from the slit of Kyle’s dick, the liquid beading on the tip before being swept away by Y/N’s thumb brushing over the sensitive head. He nipped at Kyle’s neck one last time before pulling away.

Grabbing the lune, Y/N popped the cap and poured a generous amount into the palm of his hand before setting it aside again. He reached for the case and pulled the thinnest of the rods from it, then placed it in his wet palm to lubricate it. Kyle watched nervously.

“Shouldn’t you use one of the, uh, smooth ones?” he asked. The rod Y/N had chosen was ribbed with a ring at the end, which made him anxious.

“This one will hold the lube in it better, make it a smoother process,” he replied. Y/N looked up and met Kyle’s gaze. He chewed his lip for a moment before leaning down to kiss him softly. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

Kyle nodded.

Y/N held the end of the rod in his dry hand and used the other to hold Kyle’s weeping cock, the latter groaning under his gentle touch. He stroked him a few times before stopping his movements and pressing the rod to his slit.

Slowly, he began pushing it inside. Kyle’s breath quickened and his legs twitched as the first passed through his cock. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, but it was certainly strange.

“Fuck, that feels so weird,” he muttered. Y/N glanced up at him while slowly pushing it further inside. He didn’t miss how Kyle’s gaze was glued to his dick. Staring at the point where the metal was disappearing gradually.

A deep groan left Kyle’s parted lips when it was finally fully inside, leaving only the ring visible.

“I can feel it in my arse, what the fuck,” he said. His face was twisted up with pleasure as heat coursed through him.

Y/N leaned forward and began kissing Kyle’s chest again. Nipping at his soft skin while his hands roamed his body, eventually resting on his hips. His right hand slowly inched towards Kyle’s dick, wrapping around it and eliciting a moan from the other man. Y/N slowly began pumping his cock, slick with precum and lube. It caused the rod to move slightly, a strange feeling he’d never felt before. But it wasn’t unpleasant. He was shocked that it wasn’t, to be frank.

“Fuck…” Kyle drawled, letting his head roll back and closing his eyes. Y/N glanced up at him and smiled, pleased with himself that his lover was enjoying himself.

“I love you,” he whispered, resting his cheek on his chest. “You’re so good for me. Such a good boy.”

Kyle bit his lip and opened his eyes to look at Y/N, who met his gaze and held it. It was almost intimidating.

“Is there something you want?” Y/N asked, a twinge of mocking laced into his words. Kyle groaned and wriggled on the bed for a moment before going limp. All the while Y/N kept languidly pumping his cock.

“Can’t you just-” he broke off into a whine as Y/N twisted his wrist, moving his hand faster.

Y/N looked at him with a cheeky grin.

“What was that, love?”

Kyle huffed and nudged Y/N with his knee.

“Listen, big guy, if you don’t take care of me right now when you let me out of these cuffs I’ll beat your arse and make you sleep on the couch.”

Y/N just snickered and ignored him, keeping up his slow, teasing and rhythmic motions. Pressing his thumb against the top of the rod and pushing it deeper, squeezing the base of his cock, pulling back his foreskin and placing a gentle kiss on the exposed tip.

Anything to rile him up.

Anything to make him beg.

It wasn’t long before tears were welling in Kyle's eyes. His breath was shallow and quick, and it left his head fuzzy and his limbs tingling.

“Will you please just fuck me,” Kyle pleaded.

Y/N glanced up at him from where he was crouched down, lapping at his length. He grinned and nodded before removing his hands from Kyle’s body, one moving to hold his hip, the other in between his legs, prodding at his hole.

Two fingers immediately eased inside of him, causing a low groan to erupt from Kyle’s throat. His head lolled back, hitting the pillow. He dug his heels into the mattress, silently pleading for Y/N to pick up the pace. So he did.

Y/N worked his fingers in and out of Kyle quickly, almost frantically trying to get him loose enough to take his cock. Kyle shuddered when Y/N hit his prostate, an almost croaking sound leaving his pursed lips. Y/N took notice and set an unrelenting, brutal pace on the spot. Kyle bit his lip to quiet himself.

“Mggh, oh my god,” he whined, balling his hands into fists. “Y/N, please!”

He furrowed his eyebrows and clenched his eyes shut tight as Y/N added a third finger, slowing for only a moment to allow Kyle to adjust before he resumed his fast pace.

Kyle’s biceps flexed from pulling at his restraints. His stomach tensed and his legs squeezed around Y/N’s body. The amount of feeling happening was altogether too much, but it was also just right.

Y/N suddenly removed his fingers and grabbed the bottle of lube, pouring some into his palm before slicking up his dick. He held Kyle’s hip in one hand and the base of his cock in the other, before he gently pressed the head to Kyle’s hole.

It took all his strength not to immediately bottom out once he had pushed his tip inside. He was hot and wet and perfect, it made him want to take all of him in that moment.

Kyle’s jaw hung open slightly, his eyes glued to Y/N’s concentrated face.

When Y/N finally bottomed out, he looked up, being met with Kyle’s intense gaze. He let out a shaky breath before leaning down and kissing him deeply, hands glued to Kyle’s hips.

He began moving slowly, rolling his hips back before pushing back inside gently to test the waters. Kyle moaned before pulling his head back and pressing his forehead to Y/N’s.

“Fuck me like a man.”

Y/N nodded and began a relentless pace, similar to how he stretched him out. Although this time it was more desperate and depraved. Y/N’s goal was to fuck him hard, just like he told him to.

Their bodies were flush, unbelievably close, and yet not enough. Y/N’s balls smacked against Kyle’s arse, a wet sound filling the room as lube and pre-cum dripped down and onto the bed sheets.

“Haah, fuck,” Y/N whimpered. he dug his fingers into the meat of Kyle’s hips and pulled him impossibly closer. “Y’ feel so good baby, mm…”

Kyle shivered and furrowed his eyebrows.

“I’m gonna cum!” he slurred.

“Wait, please,” Y/N begged. “I’m almost there, just wait.”

Kyle whined but nodded, quiet whimpers escaping him as he tried to hold himself steady.

Y/N’s hips stuttered suddenly and his pace faltered. He sat back and grabbed the end of the rod and pulled it out, finally allowing Kyle to cum. Tears welled in his eyes as he did, long streaks of white spilling onto his stomach. Y/N soon followed, filling him up. He slowed to a stop before hanging his head to catch his breath.

Kyle was panting, eyes hazy and body warm. He looked up at Y/N through half-lidded eyes.

“Can we go again?”

[hypercodation]

I love this idea sm 😩

price x professional baseball player! reader hcs >:]]

male!reader mdni probably long as shit

this idea has been rotting my brain tbh idk why but it’s so !!!!!!! idk but enjoy mwahahaha ( i love this gif sm )

- would meet after the mlb hosted a game in england.

- he didn’t go, you were having a bit of a tour with your teammates and went to grab a drink after a successful game. you were sat next to him at the bar and he struck up a conversation curious about the matching symbols on your hats.

- “never seen that football team before.”

- when you chuckled at him and answered that it wasn’t football finally hearing your accent he was intrigued and your conversation blossomed from there.

- relationship wasn’t a thought for either of you, you were in complete different countries and had busy schedules. but that didn’t mean you guys didn’t wind up developing feelings as time went on

- you guys were more so friends with obvious crushes

- price started learning more about baseball ( watching your game highlights on youtube )

- couldn’t and wouldn’t tell you much about his job though he mentioned it was military. you didn’t pry too much deciding it wasn’t your place

- you decide to fly him out to watch the first playoff game after he congratulated you on making it, before you even told him might i add. he had the time and figured he could use a small get away even if to america of all places to a crowded stadium. it was worth it to see you again.

- bought your bobble head

- did not care for the game until you took the field

- had no clue what was going on but he was cheering for you

- was so excited when your team won

- met up with you after the game and said it wasn’t that interesting but you saw the shirt he bought with your teams logo on it hiding under his arm

- bonus meeting option is some sort of charity event!

now for actually dating lord

- NO. 1 SUPPORTER!!!

- still has the bobble head from the first game of your he went to. he keeps it on the desk of his study and you’ve caught him smiling at it more time than you could count

- goes to all the games of yours he can.

- you live with him in england during off season but have to move back to the US when the season starts up again.

- you both have busy schedules and unpredictable jobs that require travel and at times spontaneous trips but you manage to stay in communication

- should there be a time say when john has a mission that you can’t reach one another you agreed to write letters and exchange them once he returned

- if he can’t watch your game in person its on a tv at base, if theres no tv it’s on a radio. does he understand any of the terminology despite your countless attempts to explain? absolutely not. but his ears perk up and his attention is grabbed whenever he hears the announcer mention your name, reminding him you were still out there.

- you play worse when john is out on missions because you’re worried about him and hoping he’ll make it home unscathed.

- he noticed this watching back on base once and when he got home he wrote a sweet little encouraging note on your glove/bat

- ‘Always watching, give me a good game, slugger. Be home soon. <3 John.’

- heard the term slugger in an old baseball movie you watched together and insisted on making it your nickname

- rented out your home stadium when he proposed to you

- dugout sex

- felt real damn proud of himself when your last name on your jersey changed to price. ( or was hyphenated! )

- you better believe you’ll be rewarded after a good game

- doggy with your jersey still on

- missionary with your jersey on and open so he can rub on your chest and look you in the eyes while he plows you

- “look at their mvp, crying on my cock— what would your team say luv?” omg who wrote that!!!

- he def has a thing for your uniform. those baseball pants show off your ass perfectly

- if he ever bottomed he’d be a power bottom

- would ride you and wear one of your hats you play in or your helmet if you’re a hitter. rimjobs

- you send him dirty pics in your uniform all the time.

- pics with your jersey unbuttoned, drenched with sweat, baseball pants hanging low and your uniform coved in dirt will have him feral for you.

- he’s just a perfect little supportive hubby thh

[hypercodation]

hero’s reward

more mlb player reader x price

nsfw towards the end, bottom price, mdni, male!reader, messy messy messy high thoughts tbh

this is the catch im talking abt

- price was in town for one of your games, finally able to make it to one if person after being deployed for some time.

- you decided to let him watch you practice before the game started, stadium still empty save for your team and the staff around getting ready for the game

- he sat in the dugout most of the time and actually started to somewhat understand the game without the chaos of a crowd or announcers confusing things for him

- as most of your team started to disperse from practice, except for a few of the starting batters, you and john began chatting in the outfield off to the side by first base

- he was asking about how foul balls worked and it honestly made your heart flutter hearing him trying to better understand the sport you played

- you started to explain how they worked when there was a crack from a bat, no cause for alarm initially there.

- then you saw it, just in your peripheral the ball heading straight for john’s head, too fast for him to react now.

- with lightning like reflexes your bare hand shot out in front of john’s face mere seconds before the ball was about to hit him, making a bare handed catch earning impressed reactions of disbelief from your team.

- you shook out the hand you caught the ball with, the sting from the catch still lingering and made a jokey comment to your team as you threw the ball back only to turn and see john staring at you in a mix of awe and pure desire

- you cocked your head slightly but before you knew it john had your hand and he was pulling you off the field. something about your immediate protective reaction, the way your muscles flexed when you caught the ball, how you shook off the near impossible catch like it was no big deal had something stirring within him.

- the two of you ended up in the clubhouse seeing that you were at your home stadium as you usually were when john came to games.

- you were sat in one of the arm chairs that was kept in there, your head thrown back as low grunts and groans fell from your lips. price on his knees giving you the treatment of a lifetime.

- he’d look up at you through his lashes and see you still in your uniform, your ball cap bill tilted down enough to shield your eyes with a dark shadow when you lifted your head to look at him, seeing only your lips that had curled to a small smirk

- “damn baby…oughta bring you to these more huh? who knew a little baseball was all y’needed to kneel for me…” you’d tease and he’d up his efforts, swirling his tongue around your tip in a way that made you full on whine

- wanted to milk you dry more than anything but knew you wouldn’t be able to play after something like that.

- did not let you cum and promised if you played well he’d finish you off while the rest of the team was in the showers

- needless to say you earned your reward and price earned himself a few days of sore wobbly legs

[hypercodation]

Idea! he team found out about Price's husband on a tv game, which they were watching out of boredom. His last name on the jersey is [lastname]-price. They think its a coincidence. But when he makes a winning shot, and the camera pans to him, he dose this specific hat thing, like pinch and smuge the rim of his hat, like when you pinch salt. They realize, its what Price dose! Coincidence I think not!

OMG I LOVE THIS IDEA SM!!!! IM !!!!!!!

hehehe some hcs under the cut thank you anon!

no warnings i can think of, m!reader, reader is a pitcher in this!

- john would have the game on at the base, ultimately forcing the rest of the task force to watch as well

- literally put the remote in his pocket so they couldn’t change it. they just assumed he really liked the sport for some reason and watched it as well.

- soap was and gaz ended up being the only ones truly paying attention, ghost would give the screen a glance every now and then, mostly just listening to the announcers voice as background noise.

- price only paid attention when you were on the field as per usual, sat next to gaz puffing away at his cigar, soap sat on the floor ( swears its more comfy ), with ghost at the opposite end of the couch

- it was bottom of the 9th and the opposing team’s bases were loaded, 3 balls 2 strikes and 2 outs. your team was up by two points but if they managed to hit a run or walk there was a good chance they could catch up. you needed to strike him out.

- price was stressed. his body tense as he leaned forward eyes fixed on the screen.

- gaz is looking at him like ‘???’ because price never mentioned being a baseball fan.

- it wasn’t that he kept you or your career a secret, it was well known he was married. he was just never questioned about it by the boys and the topic never got brought up

- he also figured it might be safer for both of you seeing you were such a public figure and he had plenty of threats with his job, it wasn’t exactly something he bragged about at work. should your identity fall into the wrong hands he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to you

- ghost ever the observer couldn’t help but notice the way price paid extra attention to the player with, [last name]-price on the back of their jersey. though he figured it was just coincidence

- soap was just excited to be watching a sport tbh, thought it was boring but started to understand as the game went on. now that things were tense he was at the edge of his seat.

- “c’mon luv…” price would mutter under his breath barely audible as you prepared for the pitch that could make or break the game

- you threw a strike with precision, striking their batter out and earning your team the win for the night

- you had your signal to price, it’d become a bit of a signature move for you. as your teammates joined you on the field, cheering and celebrating everyone pumped full of adrenaline you smiled brightly eyes searching for the camera

- as soon as you found it you pulled your signature move, pinching the bill of your baseball cap and smudging your fingers along it while shooting a small wink to the camera. every one of your movement a direct communication to price. that you’d played for him, you won for him, that you were still thinking of him

- gaz noticed your gesture and looked to price in slight confusion. he’s seen price make that exact gesture with his boonie hat more times than he could count.

- ghost noticed too, also taking note of the way price’s lips twitched upward when he watched you and your team celebrate on screen. he was already sure there was something deeper to price’s interest in the game

- soap of course was the first to open his mouth

- “s’like he’s yer soulmate er somethin, captain.”

- “he is.” price would state so seriously, not a hint of joking in his tone. only fondness, even a bit of pride, his eyes never leaving the screen clinging to every bit of you he could get while so far away

- gaz’s eyes would get all wide and he’d say something like “right way to go cap.” finds the fact that price would watch a whole baseball game just for you and your on screen silent communications really romantic ( hopeless romantic gaz truthers rise up! )

- ghost pats himself on the back mentally, muttering a “knew it.”

- then there’s soap who turns his head so fast he nearly gets whiplash, eyes wide and jaw dropped, “YER GAY??” which earns him a light nudge in the side from ghost’s boot and a chuckle from price

[hypercodation]

PRICE DURING RETIREMENT

I love old men...I love Price. TOP MALE READER Also not proofread lol

Once Price retires, he's so happy to spend the rest of his life with you. You both got married. You bought a house in a peaceful neighborhood, got a dog. Life couldn't be better. Well, it does. Having more free time just means more sex.

Even though he's an older man, he has the libido of a horny teenager. Sure sometimes he won't be fully erect or not at all but that doesn't stop you from sucking his flaccid dick till he begs you to fuck him in the ass. He found himself wearing bery little or sometimes no clothing around the house, just so you can be quick to fuck him.

You'd be tired from a long deployment, looking forward to relaxing and spending time with your husband but Price had other plans. Having been left alone for some time, his needs became unsatisfied by sex toys. He really needed your dick.

So you both met in the middle. Price got to fuck you to sleep. He'd would ride you till you could bearly keep your eyes open, you swear you passed out a few times. He put a cock ring on you to keep you going.

He hasn't really found much hobbies besides having you fuck him in literally every inch of the house. Bathroom sex check. Sex on the staircase, check. Sex while waiting for the laundry to dry, check. Hell, even having sex in the garden.

It was certainly his favorite due to gardening being his one hobby once he retired. Being outdoors, riding you as you sat in your sunbed. Having the warm sun on his face adding to the heat of your heavy cock dragging in and out of his tight ass. It was a bit of a rush to think if your neighbors were to peek over the fence to greet you or to figure out the commotion, they'd be surprised to see him having his back blow out as he's getting fucked against the fence.

You'll always have to tell him to hush but most of the time it didn't work, so you'd have to stick your cock in his mouth just to muffle his moans. 'How about I invite them over? Let them get to know the little slut who lives next door. Maybe they'll like to try him out,' you'd tease. Though he was full well knowing you wouldn't share.

Other days he'll just be soaking in the sun as his ass is filled with your cum. He'd just stick a plug in so he can feel it inside all afternoon while he's mowing the lawn or tending to the flowers.

Even though he was retired you were a few years away from yours. As you did paperwork, Price would sit in your lap as you cock warm him. Once he started getting bored, he'd start riding you without warning. Or he just be satisfied by having your dick resting in his mouth while he sat underneath your desk. Every so often you'd thrust in his mouth making him gag a little. He would rut against your leg like a bitch in heat as your balls hit his chin, drool dripping down his chin.

Price tries to put his two cents in when it comes to you commanding your troupes. It pisses you off cause 1. They're your men and 2. He shouldn't be thinking about war in his retirement so you fuck him as punishment. "You think you can tell me what to do? They're MY men and you don't have a say in my commands."

Price is just a hot old man that needs a good dick down :)

[hypercodation]

Thinking about how sex with Gaz isn’t as much kinky as it’s filthy.

Pairing: Kyle Gaz Garrick x Male Reader

Content tags: 18+, MINORS DNI, mentions of blow jobs, cum play, mentions of facials, spit play, ball gags

Imagine Gaz who loves to kiss you after you’ve sucked him off or ate him out, loves to languidly drag his tongue over your bottom lip and suck on your tongue just to taste his own cum, eyes fluttering shut and letting out a contented hum

Imagine Gaz who wants to make out after facials, who’ll wipe your cum off of his face, before shoving his fingers inside his mouth so he can lick them clean. Imagine that little smirk on his face, his eyes half lidded, as he sucks on his fingers.

Imagine Gaz who loves having your cum on his face, stomach or thighs solely for the way it’ll stick to the hairs, will lazily drag his fingers through the mess before sucking on them.

Imagine Gaz who loves it when you claps his tongue between your fingers, loves the way you spit on it, loves the way he’s choking on his drool as you hold onto it.

Imagine Gaz who loves using balls gags solely for the way drool collects in his mouth, dribbles down his chin and onto his chest, doesn’t even have to be ball gags can even be your gloves, your shirt, the sheets, he just loves knowing he’s soaking something in his drool

[Bonus: FTM! Gaz who likes humping his pillow and then sucking on it afterward just to taste himself on his tongue]

[hypercodation]

Hi idk if you're accepting requests but I literally just read the amnesia fic, and I was wondering if I could request where reader suddenly remembers everything, and sprints around base trying to find them, and just jumps on them crying and apologizing for forgetting them. Just some really fluffy comfort? It's okay if you don't want to write this lol

the 141 when you have amnesia – p2

note: i have received your therapy bills :)

wc: 5.2k

warnings: still a bit angsty I'm sorry I couldn't resist, fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injury and blood, happy endings for all I promise

ao3

[part one]

price

✹ john thought your initial reaction was a good sign. you seemed to be taking things well, considering the extent of your injuries, and it was only a matter of time before your memories returned.

✹ your spirits are high when you're reintroduced to the team, and though you don't remember them either you do say they feel familiar, which he takes as a good sign for your recovery.

✹ when you're finally discharged, he takes you home, to the house that the two of you bought together. he shows you the photos of the two of you that decorate the walls, fondly retelling the stories of each one to you even though you were there, and these are your pictures.

✹ if you notice the way he chokes up when you get to your wedding photos, you don't say anything.

✹ like the true gentleman he is, he insists on sleeping on the sofa and leaving you to take the bed, despite your protests about it being his home too. even though you were receptive, he would never risk making you uncomfortable by sleeping in the same bed when he was, essentially, a stranger.

✹ in all your years of marriage, he's never slept on the sofa before. the two of you rarely go to bed without each other, apart from the times you're separated by your job, and consequently he finds himself not getting much rest.

✹ you're still on leave while you're physically recovering from being in a coma, so john has to go to work without you every morning, something he also hasn't done since you got married. he wishes he could bring you with him anyway, just to have you near him, but he knows that's selfish and you still need time.

✹ the base is dull without you.

✹ again, he keeps up the appearance that he's okay, and maybe it's a little more true this time now that you're actually awake, but he still feels your absence like a weight on his shoulders.

✹ the other three are pleased amongst themselves about your recovery, gaz and soap constantly asking him how you are; and he knows they mean well, but it's still irritating because how could you be okay? you don't even remember your own husband, nothing about this is okay.

✹ he keeps his grievances to himself though. he's still their captain, he can't afford to fall apart when he still has a job to do.

✹ he's woken up one night by soft footsteps in the living room. his neck aches as his eyes snap open, every sense on high alert until he realises it's just you. a quiet grunt escapes him as he sits up, massaging his sore muscles from sleeping on the sofa.

✹ when the sound of muffled crying reaches his ears, he's immediately on his feet, his heart racing as he shuffles over to where you're standing with a hand covering your mouth.

✹ he presses a hand to your back, rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. you don't look at him, your crying only increasing in volume now you're not worried about waking him.

✹ now that he's right next to you, he sees through the darkness that you're holding one of your wedding photos. it's his favourite picture, the one where he's lifting you with an arm around your waist and you're both gazing into each other's eyes with the most lovestruck expression on your faces.

✹ "i– i know i love you, so wh-why can't i just remember you?" you sputter in between sobs, and you might as well have just ripped his heart out of his chest, because he can't stop the way he breaks down at your words.

✹ john wraps both arms tightly around you, caging you to his chest and nestling your head into the crook of his shoulder while pressing his own tear-stained face into the top of your head.

✹ "it's alright, love–" his voice cracks pitifully, and he's never felt quite as hopeless as he does in this moment. "it'll be alright, you'll remember, i promise…"

✹ he's not sure who he's trying to convince, you or himself as you both sink to the floor in each other's embrace. you stay like that for hours, crying for your lost memory into the early morning.

✹ after that, he can't be bothered to pretend he's okay anymore.

✹ he starts drinking again, shamelessly in the middle of the day and grumbling at gaz and ghost when they wrestle the bottle away from him. he knows you'd disapprove, but the toll of lying to himself and everyone around him has caught up. all he wanted was his partner back, the love of his life, you.

✹ the others try to knock some sense into him, but talking to him becomes like going back and forth with a brick wall. gaz even gets kate on the phone to yell at him, but nothing seems to get through. he orders them to leave him alone, stop asking about you, and it really feels like he's lost hope.

✹ it goes on like this for a week straight, nearly a full month since you first woke up.

✹ and then one boring afternoon, there's a commotion outside his office. john hears cheers and shouts from down the corridor, but he can't bring himself to care enough to investigate.

✹ he's not in the mood to celebrate whatever it is they're cheering about anyway.

✹ john's just about to stand and yell at them to shut up, but then you're suddenly standing at his door, slamming it behind you as you rush over to his desk. his face must be the picture of surprise as he swivels in his chair to follow you as you approach, opening his legs for you to stand between them.

✹ his breath catches in his throat as you cup his face, your touch so tender it has his heart hammering against his sternum like the very first time you touched him all those years ago. he plants his hands firmly on your hips, too afraid of getting his hopes up to say a single word as he watches you get closer.

✹ your face hovers just above his, warm breath fanning over his face as you inch ever closer. he sees your eyes glistening before they flutter shut, brushing your lips against his with an anticipation that has his skin tingling.

✹ when you pull away, his eyes stay closed, but he can hear the smile in your voice when you whisper,

✹ "i remember you now."

✹ his heart might’ve actually stopped at your words, surprise shooting through him like a bolt of lightning as his eyes snap open.

✹ in a second, he's lifting you by the waist and dropping you onto his desk, uncaring for the various papers that he brushes out of the way to make room for you.

✹ he can't stop the overjoyed laugh that rumbles in his chest now he's the one standing between your legs, gripping your face and pushing his lips back against your with all the passion he's been bottling up during your recovery.

✹ you smile into the kiss too, wrapping your arms securely around his neck, running your fingers up his neck and through his hair. it feels like a weight has lifted, something heavy in the back of his mind finally dissipating and allowing him to relax into your hold.

✹ the two of you break away after a moment, keeping him close to you as you press your forehead to his. "i'm sorry that i ever forgot you."

✹ "i can think of a way you can make it up to me, love…"

gaz

✹ you're so apologetic about your amnesia, it breaks his heart all over again. what's worse is that he has no idea what to do; he doesn't want to try and force you to remember, that would just stress you out more, but he wants you to remember him so desperately he feels it ache in his bones.

✹ in the end, he decides to just let things play out. he wants you to recover at your own pace, and not just because of him and how he feels about you.

✹ he also doesn't say a word about your relationship, but with how he initially reacted, he's sure you got the idea. you don't mention it either, which admittedly hurts a little, but he's sure the confusion of waking up to having a boyfriend who's name you don't even know is worse than how he feels about it.

✹ kyle vows to take care of you the moment you're discharged. he takes you to your room, shows you where everything is, makes sure you know where he is should you ever need anything, and he even introduces you to the others again.

✹ you still remember your job and how to do it so, once you're physically well enough, you get right back to it. they carry on as normal, the rest of the taskforce – assimilating you back into their nights of drinking and fucking around as if you'd never left.

✹ kyle still doesn't feel right about it.

✹ he doesn't want to treat you like glass, because you're exactly the same as when he first met you. you're still quick-witted, stubborn, and one of the toughest people he knows, you just… don't know him.

✹ it kills him on the inside, but he stays strong for you; the last thing he wants is to become the mess of a man he was when you were out, he doesn't want you to see him like that. he sorely misses spending his nights with you, and talking endlessly about your days to each other. he sends you longing glances every time you look away, wondering if you'd ever feel the same again.

✹ if you can go back to living normally, why can't he?

✹ but as the weeks go by, kyle notices how you start to withdraw, the loneliness that blocks out the light in your eyes that he loves so much. you fade into the background of conversations, sticking to listening rather than engaging.

✹ you watch them from afar, and he still knows you well enough to know what's going through your head. feeling somehow like you belong and also like an outsider at the same time, wishing you could understand the inside jokes you were a part of.

✹ he wishes more than anything that there was something he could do – make you understand that you're wanted, and you're a valuable part of the team even without your memories, but any time he brings it up you simply brush him off with that far away look in your eyes.

✹ three weeks go by before anything changes.

✹ it's the first time in a while they finally have an afternoon off, so of course they decide to spend it playing football on one of the fields within the bounds of the base. soap and ghost on one team, gaz and the captain on the other, with you spectating and keeping score on the sidelines. 

✹ kyle offered to sit out if you wanted to play, but you'd brushed him off with the excuse of wanting to rest and read your book, laying out your jacket on the grass to sit on.

✹ he could tell you weren't all there, but he didn't know how to help you; so he just reassured you that you could call him over if you needed anything, and left you to guard his own jacket and water bottle before running off to join the game.

✹ the whole time he was sprinting around the field, he couldn't stop looking over to you over by the sidelines. he wasn't with it, he hadn't been since you woke up, really, and the others could tell.

✹ price abruptly calls half-time, clapping gaz on the shoulder and giving him a knowing look. "just talk to 'em, before it eats you alive." he chides, pushing him in your direction before he can think to protest.

✹ with a deep sigh and a glace backwards to the others, who shoo him away without a word, he jogs over to where you're sitting. the way the late afternoon sun hits you just right stops kyle dead in his tracks when he catches how it glows in your eyes. he feels a pull in his chest as he approaches you.

✹ you look up from your book as his shadow reaches you, shooting him a tiny smile as he drops himself next to you. he takes a swig from his water bottle as he catches his breath, extremely conscious of the way your teammates are pretending not to watch him while he comes up with the words.

✹ "so, who's winning then?" you ask, turning so you're facing him. he sees how your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes.

✹ "aren't you supposed to be keepin' score?" kyle chuckles, shifting slightly closer to you as you look away with a bashful expression. he allows your hands to brush, wanting nothing more than to lock your fingers together.

✹ "i'm not really paying attention."

✹ there's a beat of silence and that helpless feeling is back as he watches you look back out to the field, where the others are still kicking the ball back and forth.

✹ "how you doin'?" he asks, keeping his voice low as he leans in even closer to you. your mouth opens to respond, that slightly off smile back on your face, but before you can he places his hand fully over yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. "actually."

✹ you sigh, heavy and tired, and bring your gaze back over to his. "it's… hard." you begin, your eyes betraying the internal struggle. "and i'm… i know, before, we were–"

✹ he blinks and you're being sent over backwards by a football flying into your face with a smack that makes kyle's ears ring.

✹ immediately he's crouching over you, helping you sit back up and pressing the sleeve of his jacket to your nose, uncaring for the blood that stains it.

✹ "you alright?" he murmurs, gently holding your face as he inspects your nose. you nod, wincing at the movement, and take the sleeve of his jacket from him.

✹ once he's sure you're okay, his vision turns red with anger. it's pretty obvious who kicked the ball when he whips around to see soap kneeling on the ground with his head in his hands.

✹ "oi!" kyle shouts, sending him a deadly glare as he gets up. "soap, what the fuck!"

✹ the man in question looks up from his hands, an incredibly guilty look on his face. "i'm sorry pal! i dinnae ken what happened!"

✹ "just piss off, you prick!"

✹ kyle looks back to you, crouching down again with a concerned frown; but you're already looking at him, the silhouette of his own form reflected in your wide eyes. your nose is still dripping blood, but you drop his jacket and your hands to your lap anyway, mouth agape as you stare back at him.

✹ "what's wrong? are you–"

✹ you cut him off by tackling him to the ground with your arms around his neck, squeezing a surprised 'oof' from him as you land on top of his chest. one of his hands flies to your waist to steady you, the other carefully cradling your head.

✹ "i remember!" you cry, an elated laugh bubbling up as fresh tears wet your cheeks.

✹ kyle lets out a relieved laugh of his own, craning his neck to plant his lips firmly on yours with an infectious grin. in the background the others groan at the display of affection, but neither of you pay them any mind.

✹ eventually the two of you pull away, a wide smile still plastered on both of your faces as you get up from the grass. he pulls you in with the hand that still hasn't moved from your waist and leans to whisper in your ear,

✹ "fancy kickin' soap's arse?"

✹ "you read my mind."

soap

✹ johnny's enthusiastic with your recovery. anyone could've guessed that from the moment you woke up he'd be doting, eager to help you in any way you could need.

✹ yes, you didn't remember him, but be was just so ecstatic that you were okay – apart from the amnesia – that he couldn't find it in himself to be disappointed about it. you'd get your memories back soon enough, and then everything would go right back to the way it was.

✹ sometimes he gets a little carried away, forgets that while you are technically in a relationship, he's not much more than a stranger to you right now. more than once you end up having to ask him for some space because he's so incredibly touchy, and you're not sure how to handle it.

✹ you also request a temporary room to sleep in while you recover, separate from him. johnny's not sure how he feels about it.

✹ he feels that sinking feeling in his chest whenever you push him back with a hand on his chest, a polite smile tugging at your lips. it's disheartening, but he tries not to let it get to him. you'll remember soon, and then this will all be in the past.

✹ maybe you'll even laugh about it, how you could ever forget your wonderful boyfriend.

✹ he takes it upon himself to read up on amnesia, so he can better understand how to help you in any way you might need. once he learns that exposure to memories that you've lost can help your recovery, he eagerly convinces you to let him show you places that have meaning to you and your relationship with him.

✹ you agree, and he didn't actually need to do much convincing because you seem just as interested in the idea as him. he knocks on your door the following evening, offering you a single rose before whisking you away with a charming smile.

✹ he takes you on your first date all over again, with the same level of enthusiasm as before. he treats you to dinner at a relatively nice restaurant, telling you all about how the two of you got together in the first place, and memories you have together. he even orders you dessert, recalling with a chuckle how he accidentally guessed your favourite on your actual first date.

✹ once you both finish eating, he guides you by the hand to the canal for the second half of the date, a romantic moonlit stroll by the water. he pulls you close with an arm around your shoulders, meeting your eyes with a fond smile and a blush dusting his cheeks.

✹ "hold on…" you mutter, a pensive expression taking over your face as you stop walking. you turn to gaze at the water, seemingly working something out in your mind. "this… this is where gaz fell into the river that one time, right?"

✹ johnny's heart misses a beat, his eyes lighting up with renewed, excited hope as he grins at you. "you remember?"

✹ "a little, yeah," you smile, dropping your gaze and hands from his with a sorry scratch at the back of your neck. "the rest is still blank, though…"

✹ his smile falters, but he's quick to make sure you don't see his disappointment by pulling you into a reassuring hug. "that's still somethin'! you'll be good as new in nae time!"

✹ the next morning, he finds you and gaz in the rec room on one of the couches, talking animatedly with each other. that familiar shine is in your eyes, the sight johnny's been missing for the last few months. it makes his heart feel light, finally seeing you acting like your normal self again after so long.

✹ he approaches you both, watching you fondly as you talk and laugh with gaz, but his good mood is soured when you only briefly acknowledge his arrival when he sits down across from you, before resuming your conversation with gaz. his brow twitches downwards.

✹ gaz is one of your closest friends, and he’s glad you remembered him. he's happy that you got part of your memory back, even if it wasn't a part that included him.

✹ this was a good thing. you'd remember him soon, he was sure of it.

✹ a few more days pass until anything else notable happens. while you were in the gym together, you told him you felt a headache coming on, so he offered to walk you to the infirmary for some painkillers. the casual conversation you made on the way wouldn't have bothered him before, but he just couldn't shake the image of you and gaz being so comfortable, while he's still stuck on the outside.

✹ he doesn't say anything though. making you feel bad about it won't solve anything, and it's not like you're doing it on purpose, he knows you wouldn't do that to him. you were just excited to have a familiar face, that's all.

✹ while you're waiting for the medic on call, your head suddenly snaps to attention and you get that same pensive look on your face as that night by the river.

✹ "you got something?" johnny asks, bringing his hand up to rest on your upper back. he doesn't want to get his hopes up, but he can't help the way his heart flutters with optimism.

✹ you nod, a smile growing on your features. "i remember that time lt. dislocated my shoulder, and price basically forced him apologise to me," you laugh, thankfully facing away from johnny as his lips turn downwards, "god, he was pissed, it was honestly kinda funny."

✹ "what, uhm…" he lightly clears his throat, hoping you don't hear the dejection in his voice, "what about me?"

✹ you meet his eyes again with an apologetic shake of your head. "i'm sorry, soap…"

✹ "yer fine, it's–" he swallows thickly, waving you off with an exaggerated smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "this is good, it's progress."

✹ since then, he's given you more space. it's clear to him that his efforts aren't helping you remember him, it actually feels like it's having the opposite effect. of course, he's glad you remember your friends, but you still don't remember him – your own boyfriend.

✹ it's wrong, and he knows it is, but he's jealous.

✹ he has to watch you carry on like usual, without him. you haven't set foot in the room you used to share together since before you were comatose. he's done his best to disguise how much it hurts, but it still annoys him how no one else seems to notice how wrong it all is. the others don't need you like he does, they don't lay awake at night going over every moment, treasuring the time you called him yours, yearning with every fibre of his being to go back.

✹ it's been a month and a half since you woke up, six weeks of being so close yet so unbearably far from you. he prays to any god that will listen to bring you back to him, allow him to hold you in his arms once more, but nothing ever changes.

✹ the thread he's been hanging on by ever since you went down on that mission gone wrong is one more bad day away from snapping.

✹ he's approached by gaz one morning, while waiting for the others to begin training, who takes it upon himself to ask johnny about how you're recovering. when gaz teases him about how he was the first person you remembered, and johnny thinks he might just strangle him.

✹ "careful, soap, i might steal 'em away," gaz laughs, patting his shoulder with a camaraderie soap scoffs at.

✹ "shut the fuck up." he snarls, his face bunched in a strikingly out of character scowl. his hands twitch at his sides, nails digging painfully into his palms.

✹ gaz blinks, his eyebrows shooting up, clearly taken aback by the hostility from his friend. "alright, i was only jokin', mate."

✹ "aye, well, i'm nae laughin'."

✹ the tension is stifling. he can tell gaz wants to say something more, but he holds his tongue – too worried about upsetting soap any further.

✹ they stand in silence with each other like that for a while, gaz watching him from the corner of his eye while he keeps his gaze firmly on the grass below him.

✹ thankfully, after not too long the uneasy atmosphere is interrupted by a shout from the direction of the building, "johnny!"

✹ his head snaps to attention to see you, grinning uncontrollably and sprinting towards him at full speed.

✹ "wha–" he's caught off guard by how you leap into his arms, hooking your arms around his neck as he stumbles backwards in surprise.

✹ before he has time to question your actions, you're smashing your lips against his in a searing kiss that has johnny's head spinning. he wastes no time in reciprocating, securing one arm around your waist and bringing the other to the back of your head, using it you press you impossibly closer to him as he groans into your mouth.

✹ you reluctantly pull away, just enough to take a shaky breath, but johnny's had stays put on the back of your head. "i'm sorry i forgot, i'm sorry…" you mumble against his lips, dragging your fingers through the unkempt hair of his mohawk.

✹ he drops his head into the juncture of you neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply the scent of you that he's gone so long without. he laughs into you, slightly delirious and just so overjoyed to have you in his arms again that feels his eyes sting with tears.

✹ "i've missed you, bonnie," he chuckles wetly, pressing his lips back to yours in another desperate kiss, "i've missed you so much,"

✹ "i'll never forget you again."

ghost

✹ he avoids you like the plague.

✹ or he tries to, at least. but truth be told, after spending so much time learning to be vulnerable around you and allowing you into his guarded heart, it's difficult to go back to being a stranger to you.

✹ that, and he doesn't actually want to.

✹ but he needs to. being around you, the love of his life, knowing that you don't remember him, it's like a knife stuck between his ribs. any time he's in the same room as you he finds himself fighting the urge to grab your hand, or press his forehead against you.

✹ he knows you don't want him anymore, the last thing you deserve is a giant of a man – who you're clearly afraid of, even if you won't say it – hanging around you like a shadow.

✹ you're still kind to him, because of course you are, checking in on him and trying to talk to him any opportunity you get. it's nice, sometimes he can even pretend everything is normal when he shares a laugh with you, but then he sees the hesitance in your eyes and he's brought back to the cold reality of the situation.

✹ the weeks drag like this, every fleeting look from you another bleeding wound on his heart.

✹ he keeps it together surprisingly well, all things considered, but the breaking point comes when you find him having a smoke one night, on a bench just outside the barracks.

✹ "simon?" your voice cuts through the silence, his eyes snapping to you as you sit down next to him. he takes another long drag from his cigarette as he watches you, uncertainty in your voice as you continue, "can you tell me about… me? and us?"

✹ no matter how much he thinks he should, he can't look away from your pleading gaze.

✹ "we… you're everything to me," simon mutters, dropping his cigarette and putting it out with the heel of his boot, "i've never felt the way i do with you before, you've helped me more than you could ever know…"

✹ his vision blurs with unshed tears. the sadness on your face starts and ache in his heart, the desire to take you into his arms and just hold you making his skin bristle.

✹ "you don't have to feel the same way, but…" he pulls the balaclava from his head, setting it on the bench in the space between you, bearing his face to you like he always does, "even if you never get your memory back, i'll always love you."

✹ the way you look at him makes it so incredibly difficult not to cry. your eyes are glassy and far away, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth with an expression that screams guilt – but it's not your fault, and he'd never blame you.

✹ you open your mouth to say something, but the words never materialise. the night stays silent, and simon expects it, but it still makes his bones ache with a heaviness that he knows he can't shake.

✹ he stands, picking up his balaclava, and walks quietly past you to the barracks door. there's no fleeting look, not this time. he disappears to his room without another word.

✹ he's not sure how much later it is when he hears a knock on his door. minutes, hours, it didn't matter. it all blends together now.

✹ when he doesn't bother to answer, whoever it is lets themselves in, shutting the door gently behind themselves. he sits up with the intention of chewing them out, but when he opens his eyes they land on your form, curled in on yourself and shuffling quickly over to him.

✹ you're here, in his room, with a face that looks like you've been crying for hours, puffy and tear-stained with bloodshot eyes.

✹ he almost thinks he's dreaming, but the warmth as you wrap your arms around him and bring his face to your chest is too real, too familiar. he brings his arms up  around your waist, releasing a shaky sigh into your skin as he squeezes you tighter against him.

✹ a few hot tears meet the top of his head as you whisper to him the words he's been waiting, longing to hear, rocking gently from side to side.

✹ "i remember, si."

✹ it feels like he can finally rest, like the state of being he's been living in for the last few months melts away with your touch and he feels safe again.

✹ with his grip around your waist, he hoists you onto his bed to lay back down with him, holding you tightly against his chest, your heart right beside his own racing one.

✹ you cradle his face again, pressing your lips to his face over and over, touching every inch of him with your love.

✹ "i'm sorry…" you whisper like a mantra, punctuating every kiss with an apology that makes his throat constrict with the raw emotion he feels. "i'm sorry,"

✹ "don't be…" he mirrors how you hold his face, tangling his legs with yours as he captures your mouth and pours every ounce of passion he has into the way he kisses you. "don't be, love."

[hypercodation]

hi! i was wondering if i could request your thoughts/drabble on how the 141 would react if a mission went awful and you were left in the hospital with amnesia! like the reader wakes up and has no memory of her team🥲

if you aren’t taking requests atm or this doesn’t fit with your writing, i completely understand and you can ignore this! just wanted to say i binged your masterlist and absolutely love all your writings! keep up the amazing content <3

the 141 when you have amnesia

note: AAA TYSM FOR REQUESTING THIS!!!! and ty for reading my stuff, it means a lot!! i had so much fun writing this it's unbelievable, this concept is just so JUICY,,, i really hope you like it!! <3

wc: 2.8k

warnings: established relationship, angst sadness and depression wow i did not mean for this to get so sad

ao3

[part two]

price

✹ he would undoubtedly blame himself for what happened to you. as your captain, it was his job to keep you safe and make sure you came home in one piece, and he'd failed you there.

✹ weeks and weeks go by as he waits endlessly for you to wake up, and with every day that ends with you still unconscious, he feels his resolve slipping just a little bit more.

✹ he holds himself together as well as he can, keeping his head high and projecting confidence that you'd be okay, if only to keep the team's spirit up. they still needed their captain, and he'd be damned if he failed them too.

✹ behind closed doors, however, he's a mess.

✹ john drinks, a lot, so much that it’s irresponsible, but the image of you, beaten and bloody and barely breathing haunts him every time he closes his eyes. he locks himself in his office, away from the others and ignores their concerned calls through the door.

✹ he visits you, only when it's late and there's no one else around to hear him whisper apologies to you with a lump in his throat. he confesses to you like a sinner, all the things he wishes he'd done differently, how he'd put himself in your place in a heartbeat if it meant you'd be okay.

✹ other than those nights, he does his best to stay away from the infirmary. it’s selfish, but he can’t bear to see you in such a fragile state.

✹ he’s in his office when you wake up.

✹ the nurse finds him on his second drink of the night, and no sooner than the news leaves her mouth he's pushing past her and rushing to the infirmary. he bursts through the door, startling you and the other nurse with you.

✹ "hey, sweetheart." he’s by your side in an instant, taking one of your hands in both of his as he gazes lovingly into your eyes. it feels like it's been an age since you've looked at him, the sight of your eyes alone almost has the dam behind his own breaking.

✹ you’re staring back at him with a somewhat lost expression, but john’s so relieved that you’re here, that you're back, it slips his notice.

✹ he leans over to press a kiss to your forehead, like he's done hundreds of times before, but you stop him by placing your other hand on his chest. he pulls back with a concerned frown, finally noticing the unsure look you're wearing.

✹ the nurse briefly explains that some memory loss is common for the amount of head trauma you sustained. he should've expected something like this, in fact it's a miracle you made it out with just memory loss.

✹ "i'm sorry, can you tell me who you are?" you ask meekly, looking back at him with an apologetic look in your eye. you look guilty, like it's your fault this happened and not because of his own shortcomings.

✹ john's heart sinks at your words, but he's careful not to show it. amnesia can be temporary, he knows that, he just has to jog your memory.

✹ "i'm john," he smiles as warmly as he can through the panic in his chest, lifting his left hand to show you the wedding band on his finger, "your husband."

✹ your jaw falls open, your eyes wide as you look between the ring, his face, and the nurse behind him, who simply nods in confirmation of the captain's words.

✹ "you're…" you mutter, disbelief taking over your voice, "my husband?"

✹ you take his left hand in yours, bringing it closer to your face and examining the wedding band, a tiny smile pulling at one corner of your lips.

✹ "yes, love," his chest rumbles with a chuckle, grasping your left hand and showing you the matching band on your own finger, "we're married."

✹ "seriously?" you ask, comparing the rings on your fingers and looking back up to him with an almost comically surprised face. john nods again, his moustache tilted with an amused smile.

✹ "been together for nearly seven years."

✹ "how the hell did i convince you to marry me?" you mutter. at that, he lets out a real laugh, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

✹ "think i should be the one askin' that question."

gaz

✹ kyle takes it harder than anyone.

✹ he visited you once, at the first opportunity when you were stable enough to not require constant observation, but the sight ruins him. you looked so weak, nothing like how you should; your cheeks were sunken and your skin has a sickly sheen to it, and there was nothing he could do to help you.

✹ he couldn't stand it.

✹ he becomes so easily irritated, a hair trigger just waiting to snap. the others want to help him, but he won't let them get close enough to try. any mention of your name has him shutting down, leaving faster than they can finish their sentence.

✹ he barely sleeps, spending most nights curled up in your bed with his tears soaking your pillow. he surrounds himself with your clothes, things that smell like you, but your scent eventually fades and he just feels so alone without you.

✹ price finds him like that one night, sitting on the floor with his back leaning against your bed after throwing up from crying so hard. he hauls kyle up by the collar of his shirt, and forces him to meet his stern eyes through the tears.

✹ "pull yourself together, garrick! they need you to be strong for them, how d'you think they're gonna feel when they wake up and see you like this?"

✹ after that it's like the spell is broken, and he realises just how pathetic he's been acting. in the weeks you've been out, he's only visited you – his partner – once. you'd never forgive him if you knew.

✹ from that night onwards, he visits you at least once a day, filling multiple vases around your bed with beautiful flowers and making sure they never wilt.

✹ he got 'get well soon' cards for you too, having each of your teammates, and even kate, sign one to decorate your room.

✹ you wake up surrounded by life and colour, physical evidence of how much he loves you that puts a smile on your exhausted face, even if you don't know who left them.

✹ he's off base when you wake up, picking up a fresh bouquet for your room. his phone rings as he's leaving the florists, and as soon as he hears the nurse's voice he's sprinting back to his car, throwing the flowers onto the passenger seat and racing back to base.

✹ he bursts through the infirmary doors to see you standing with the help of the nurse, your legs wobbly but your face determined. he almost breaks down in the doorway.

✹ when you look up and meet his eyes, he feels his heart stutter in his chest. he rushes towards you, the new bouquet slipping from his fingers, and almost knocks you off your feet with the how hard he embraces you.

✹ you let out a small 'oomph' as he squeezes you, hesitantly wrapping your own arms around his torso. he sniffles into your shoulder, a few tears wetting your shirt despite his attempts to hold them back.

✹ "hey, uhm…" your voice reaches his ears, hoarse with disuse, "are you okay? what's your name?"

✹ "what?" kyle lifts his head, pulling back to mirror your confused gaze. "babe, what're you on about?"

✹ the nurse pulls him aside, leaving you sitting on the edge of your bed as she explains your amnesia to him.

✹ you really didn't remember him. his heart withers in his chest, the pain of losing you all over again spreading to the ends of every limb.

✹ "no, no no no–" he mumbles, stumbling back over to where you sit and cupping your worried face so gently, like you'd break if he was too rough. "please, love, you have to remember"

✹ you cover his hands with your own, a few tears falling from your eyes and rolling hot against kyle's palms. "i'm sorry, i want to remember, but…"

✹ "please, i love you…"

soap

✹ johnny spends every free moment at your bedside.

✹ he talks to you, tells you stories about everything that's happened since you've been asleep; the time ghost burnt dinner and set the fire alarms off, a robin that landed on the windowsill of your shared room, anything that comes to mind.

✹ sometimes he plays your favourite songs, sitting on the end of your bed softly humming along, praying that you'll hear it and come back to him.

✹ most often though, he draws you. he fills page after page of his sketchbook with sketches of you; the peaceful look on your face as you lay next to him, memories from before the accident, the two of you together – though he always puts infinitely more detail into you than himself.

✹ similarly to the captain, johnny stays positive about your condition, refusing to even entertain the idea of you not waking up. he's optimistic, and so good at hiding the anguish of being without you that even ghost is fooled by his facade.

✹ he won't let the others worry about him. you're the one in the hospital, you're the one that deserves their sympathies, he has to stay positive for everyone so they don't worry, so you have something familiar to come back to when you wake up–

✹ in reality, he's living in denial. he's on the verge of a steep mental nosedive, and if he looks past his delusions for even a second, he's afraid he'll spiral into a pit he won't be able to claw his way back out of.

✹ so he continues to live like that. he has one-sided conversations with you, going on for hours as if you're talking back to him. he brings you your favourite meal when the mess hall makes it, putting it on your bedside table so you can reach it and clearing it up the next day when he comes back.

✹ when you eventually, finally wake up, he's already there with you.

✹ it was late, and against the nurse's wishes he'd climbed into your hospital bed with you, an arm around your shoulder holding you close his chest while his other hand doodles away in his sketchbook.

✹ you let out a small sound and shift against him, and his heart skips a beat under your ear at the realiseation that you're back.

✹ any lingering tiredness immediately disappears from his mind, as he throws his sketchbook carelessly onto the side table and wastes no time in gathering you up into his arms and bringing you into a crushing hug.

✹ a groggy, surprised noise leaves you, the sound of your voice lighting up johnny's face with a smile so wide it aches. he loosens his hold just enough to hold the side of your head with one hand, gazing into your eyes like you were the only person in the world.

✹ "there y'are, bonnie, i missed you so much,"

✹ he presses his lips to the top of your head, his eyes glassing and his heart full with how relieved he is that you're awake.

✹ "...what's going on?" you mutter, your eyes darting all over his face and to the room around you with a confused furrow in your brow.

✹ "lemme call the nurse," he replies with an easy, comforting smile, reaching somewhere behind him for the call button.

✹ while you wait for the nurse, he helps you sit up, adjusting the pillows behind your back so you can sit comfortably, all the while rambling about everything and nothing all at once.

✹ "you should've seen gaz's face, darl, it was priceless–"

✹ "i'm sorry, i… i dont remember you…"

✹ nothing has ever shut him up quite as effectively as those words.

✹ "wh… what? stop messin' about, bonnie," he chuckles, desperately searching your eyes for the humour that was missing. when you only shake your head in response, the smile fades from his face and quickly morphs into concern.

✹ "sergeant mactavish, how many times do i have to tell you to get off the bed!" the nurse exclaims as she enters the room. he doesn't get down though, just fixes her with the most intense look he's ever worn.

✹ "why don't they remember me?"

✹ the nurse explains that an injury like yours was bound to cause some lasting damage, but amnesia was more often than not temporary.

✹ "i'm sorry, i wish i could remember you…" you mutter, dropping your gaze to your lap as he turns back to you.

✹ johnny exhales deeply, finding a great sense of comfort that you'll most likely get your memory back. he gently tilts your chin up again so he can stare deep into your eyes.

✹ "don't apologise, that just means i get to woo you all over again, bonnie."

ghost

✹ simon would be destroyed.

✹ while you're knocked out its like he forgets how to be human. he eats, sleeps, and breathes on autopilot – like a robot with a function, no feeling, just keeping himself alive until you wake up.

✹ it worries the others, price especially, but the walls around his heart are expertly crafted, and without you by his side he sees no purpose in lowering them.

✹ when you do wake up, the first thing you see is him, sitting at your bedside with his hand enclosed around yours. his eyes are closed, but he's still very much awake, in fact he finds himself unable to rest anywhere but in the chair by your side.

✹ the way you try to pull your hand from his brings him back to the present and alerts him to your consciousness. his eyes snap open in less than a second, already glassy with the pure relief he feels now you're back.

✹ but you're looking at him differently. where there would once be soft affection, now he can only see confusion, and worst of all, panic.

✹ and there's fear in how your shoulders bunch up, but simon tries his best to ignore that thought.

✹ "hey, you're alright, darlin'," he coos, as gentle as he can manage, pushing the rising dread to the back of his mind.

✹ he presses the button to call the nurse, letting go of your trembling hand bringing it up to your shoulder. your worried gaze flicks to his arm and back to his face, which makes him pause in his tracks.

✹ "who… who are you?"

✹ simon's waited so long to hear your voice again, but hearing those four words from you shatters his heart into pieces.

✹ no.

✹ you didn't forget him. there was no way.

✹ "it's…" he swallows hard, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears threatening to fall. "it's me, love, it's simon."

✹ you're still looking at him with that same anxious expression, and he curses himself when he realises he's still wearing his balaclava. he practically rips it from his head, dropping it to the floor without a care for where it fell.

✹ your eyes study his bare face, tracing over every crease and scar, the mess of hair on top of his head, and finally landing on his desperate eyes.

✹ "i'm sorry, i…" you look guilty, the subtle shake of your head hurting simon like a knife to the chest. "...do i know you?"

✹ the silence that follows your words is unbearable.

✹ you really did forget him.

✹ all the time you'd spent together, the memories you shared, the love you had; it was all gone, just like that.

✹ suddenly he felt like the walls were closing in on him, he couldn't get enough air and his skin was crawling with the need to escape.

✹ at that moment, the nurse comes through the doors, startling simon into standing from the chair and stumbling backwards. he never takes his eyes off of your guilt-ridden face. you didn't know him, not anymore, and that meant he was all alone again, with no one to care for him and call home.

✹ the emptiness in his chest was enough to make him want to rip the hair from his scalp.

✹ the nurse says something, stealing your attention from him with words he's too overwhelmed to listen to. he takes the opportunity to back away, disappearing through the doors with a hand covering his mouth, fighting the urge to throw up.

✹ it was a miracle to two of you got together in the first place – simon didn't know if he could get you to love him again.

[hypercodation]

War is Over (and what have we done?)

Part One

Paring; Graves x m!reader

Word Count; ~3.3k

Warnings; slight mention of s/h in beginning. For like 2 sentences. A side character is in a coma.

A/n; Another installment already? So soon? It's more likely than you'd think. (also the title was orig. something else, but it was too long so I changed it. So enjoy this ref to that one depressing Christmas song lol. The orig. title is used on ao3 though.)

You were the acting Commander of Shadow Company. After the retreat from Las Almas, you and the other Shadows had been left without a leader. So, seeing as you had been second in command since the company had begun, you were indirectly assigned the position. It wasn't exactly something the others gave much thought to; you just happened to be there, barking orders of retreat when the fire caught.

Eleven months later, and here you were. Sitting at a cold, metal desk in a chair that squealed with every movement.

Almost forty-seven weeks after that nightmare had landed you back at home base. A little duller than you remembered, but it was still standing and it wasn't born from the seeds of betrayal. It was yours, it had always belonged to you and the others. That's all that mattered, you told yourself. They were still standing, just like this old, dusty facility, and that is all that counted.

Three-hundred-thirty-four and a half days since you had dug a virgin blade into the back of someone almost considered a friend, and had withdrawn sin instead. You fiddled with that blade now. Between burnt fingertips, singed with the flames of betrayal. Your usual gloves were discarded for this.. ritual of sorts; balancing the knife from finger to finger, slipping it between webbing. Watching it, feeling that cool metal against your mutilated skin, seeing your hidden reflection thrown back at you. You should have left it buried in his flesh, left it back in a whole other country. You hadn't.

Over eight thousand hours have passed, and you hadn't gotten far. Lounging in your familiar yet foreign office, the sharp edge of a blade pressing much too close to scarred, unfeeling palms. The only evidence that it was even there was found in the crimson droplets landing in muted thud's on your desk.

Four hundred and eighty-one thousand, eight hundred and one minutes after the fact and you had an untouched stack of recruitment papers piling up somewhere to your left. Forms you had yet to even make a conscious effort to flip through, even though the choice to reopen enlistments had been your own. Just the mere sight of that new, friendly face smiling on top of the mountain of documents had you grimacing. The bright image plastered there, far too optimistic for your taste, only brought back memories. Memories of other faces. Other names. Names that are lost, but never forgotten. Not to you. One shiny-new recruit could never fill the void of dozens of expertly trained, heartbreakingly familiar war-hardened soldiers.

An ungodly amount of seconds later and here you sat, in all your unholy, defaced glory. With burn scars traveling from the tips of your fingers and along your forearms. Over time you had found that a particularly nasty scar covering parts of your throat and consuming the edges of your jaw often brought back memories you weren't too fond of. It wasn't unusual to wear a mask when on a mission, all the Shadows did, but these days you would never be caught alive without that secure piece of cloth. Concealed and buried deep under, just like your disfigured hands.

So much time had passed, but it never felt like enough.

The first call of a mourning dove is what kick-starts your morning. Sleep wasn't a thing you did often these days, so you would wait in your office after tossing and turning in your bed for who knows how long. Doing the same little ritual every day before daybreak, before that first sorrowful trill.

Then, now that it was socially acceptable for you to, you would exit your office. Chin held high and every inch of skin–apart from the, thankfully, untouched flesh of your upper face–covered, shrouded in black.

Now that your Shadows were beginning to stir, the first part of your morning routine started with you making rounds. Giving a light knock to each metallic door, rousing them from the lingering remnants of sleep.

Once you were finished with that, you'd swing by each place where an exhausted Shadow was stationed. And–with the knowledge that they'd be replaced pretty soon–you would quietly relieve them from their duties. Allowing them to get a few more hours of sleep before the liveliness of the facility was in full swing.

With a murmured; "thanks, Lt." They'd be on their way.

After that, you'd swing by the mess hall and grab a protein bar. Making your way down to medical you would try your damnedest to keep the paranoia-ridden thoughts at bay. Thoughts like he was probably dead. Had died while you were away and you weren't there to see him pass. You ignored them because, just like every other day, when you made it back to his bedside; he was still breathing.

Shadow 0-9. Or, to his friends, Viper. One of the few from your original squad who had made it out of that godforsaken city alive. Well, barely. He was hooked up to various beeping machines, numerous tubes running in and out of his body. You weren't well versed in the knowledge of medical terminology, but you knew the main tube stuck down his throat was hooked up to a ventilator. The main thing keeping him breathing. Assisting his weak lungs in the seemingly daunting task.

Other than the medical tools keeping him breathing and his body stable, there was the–in your humble opinion–excessive amount of medical tape and bandages wrapped around practically his entire body. A near-fatal concussion. Several broken bones. Including, but not limited to, ribs, a wrist, mandible, femur, and humerus. In other words; the entire left side of his body was a mangled mess. A light dusting of his own fair share of burn wounds littered his body, but they weren't extreme and most likely wouldn't scar too badly. The same couldn't be said for you.

Some of the medics had joked that it was a miracle he was still alive. You hadn't laughed.

So there you sat. Watching his comatose sleeping form, nibbling at the protein bar you'd taken from mess. You'd sit there watching waiting for a few hours, guarding him from nothing in particular. There was nothing here that could hurt him. You trusted your medical staff, and they knew how important he was. How important all of your Shadows were. So, really, there was no reason for you to worry. No reason for you to sit here, watching over a man who barely even thought of you as a friend anymore.

But there was a tiny portion of your brain that told you as long as you were here, protecting him, he was untouchable. As if your mere presence was enough to keep the hands of death from reaching out and claiming his already half-dead body.

You could only sit there for so long before the intrusive thoughts became too much and your backside grew numb from sitting in that, frankly hard as hell, metal chair. With one last glance at him, you'd stand, turn around, throw your half-eaten protein bar away, and leave. Not even uttering a goodbye to the fresh morning staff before you were halfway through the door.

Next on your daily schedule was supervising afternoon drills. There had been a prolonged period of time after you all's return that these fields had been empty, the shooting range void of any life, and even the well-frequented gym was dead silent. With over half of the crew injured and the other half too shell-shocked to pick up a weapon or throw a punch, training had come to a standstill. But now, several grueling months later, the grounds were filled with bodies once more.

You didn't join in on the activities much these days. Preferring to train alone, usually when everyone else was asleep and under the blanket of night. But you found a bit of reprieve in watching. A small part of you settled at the sight of your Shadows performing their old drills, laughing and joking around with each other during breaks. It felt almost like old times. It reminded you that–while you'd lost more soldiers than you could sanely count–there was still good here. That they were alive and well, and not attached to an ungodly amount of life-stabilizing medical equipment.

You preferred them laughing without restraint–even if that meant you were a little lax on the rules he had put in place–over the sight of them bed bound to a thin, uncomfortable cot.

When afternoon training lulled to an end, you would silently take your leave. Not even glancing at the now-crowded mess hall–you should probably hire more staff, especially if there would soon be fresh recruits joining in soon–you would head straight for your office once more. Head up in the clouds–rainy, dark grey clouds.

You hated how familiar these walls were. How you could still hear the laughter of long-since dead soldiers lingering behind every corner. Their voices haunted you. It's what kept you up at night. Well, that and the unrelenting burn of your otherwise dead flesh.

The med team had said it should stop soon. They had even sent you on your way with a tube of burn cream. Something about nerve endings needing to scar over. That, besides an itching now and again, your marred skin should heal over pretty well over the course of a few months.

That had been a week after your return to base, and the tube had long since been used months ago. It still burned, still felt like you were surrounded by that scalding metal. Like you could still feel those flames melting your skin, even through your uniform, that acrid smoke scorching your heaving lungs.

You didn't think to mention this to the med staff. They had enough on their hands as it was, they didn't need you taking up their valuable time on top of it.

They had had to peel the cloth off your body. The mixture of nylon and cotton had melted, welding itself to your burning flesh. You'd been bed-bound for weeks. After that, though it was strongly encouraged you stayed still, you had had enough and we're walking around the base with the top half of your body wrapped in an excessive amount of gauze. It's not like they could stop you, after all.

Since you and the others had returned, missing a large chunk of the team that had gone with–including a certain someone no one had dared to mention–, not a single person had said a word against you. None of them questioned your authority. Not even the most hard-headed, he-who-shall-not-be-named loyal soldiers had opened their mouths. You had that going for you at least.

Now, pushing open your office door, it was time for the most dreadful time of your day. You had spent months getting your team back together and making sure everyone was at an acceptable level of okay before you made the company's presence known again. You had begun reasserting your credibility with other organizations, strengthening ties with old allies. No one else was going to do it, so it may as well have been you.

It was several, several more months after that when you had taken the step to reopen communications with the very team you had backstabbed. More time after that for their leader, the Captain himself, to even acknowledge your attempts at lending an olive branch.

After all of that, he had finally agreed to speak to you. And only you. His only prerequisites were that you were only to communicate with him directly and that you had no connections with the supposed dead man and the General. The Captain had required proof that the old commander was no longer in your ranks–you couldn't offer confirmed death, but several invasive questions later were enough for him. Failure to comply with these demands–and on the impossible chance he was alive–was followed by an unspoken threat of your untimely death.

Insurance. He'd called it.

So, here you were. Sitting in front of your laptop and waiting for that god-awful video call, hoping you would be able to salvage the shredded remains that were your allyship with task force 141. A bond that had been clawed apart and mutilated by your own sinful hands.

The ringtone pierced through the deafening silence of the room, ice-cold dread clutches at your chest and your body seizes. It takes you far too long to uncurl your clenched fist–a blank icon along with the phrase Capt. Price blinking on the screen–and urge a gloved finger to press that button and accept the call.

The fuzzy, pixelated screen eventually smoothes out and suddenly you have lost the ability to talk. You had never spoken to this man before, outside of encrypted emails.

"Evening, Lieutenant." His graveled, British voice echoes through the speaker. You had never even directly traded words with him in person, a silent shadow–hah–behind that arrogant man. An observer. Not much of a talker.

"You alright there?" He's obviously sitting in his own office. That wooden desk and warm-toned background is a high contrast to your own metal desk and dull, grey theme. "Lieutenant?"

"Jus'-" your accent had a habit of sneaking out of that latched box of professionalism when anxiety flooded your veins. You cleared your throat with a small cough to correct it. "Just peachy, Captain."

An awkward silence lulls on. This is why you didn't do this. You had always been a trusted soldier, well-versed in various strategies of combat. You could clear a room of unfriendlies with only your favorite blade without breaking a sweat. But this? You didn't do this. Communication. The very idea of it sent your mind reeling, all coherent thoughts scrambling.

"Good." Ohthankgod. "Now, are you ready to begin?"

"Affirmative, sir." Ew. Why did you sound like that? All… strained and unnatural. As if you were a robot imitating a human, or an alien occupying a body for the first time.

"Very well." The sound of some papers shuffling and a chair adjusting emit from his side of the call. "So we have already established that Gra-"

"The old commander." You quickly, and unthinkingly, interject. You internally cringe at your reflex reaction and you're about to apologize when the Captain says;

"Right. The old commander. The hopefully deceased commander."

"I cannot say for sure that he is, Captain." You really can't. There was a lot of fire. A lot of blood. "But I can confirm he does not reside with us any longer."

"And where would that be?"

"I'd rather not discuss this topic, sir." Ah, yes. Tell him the location of you and your Shadows. That sounded like a perfectly safe and wise decision.

"Of course." A beat of silence. "On to other matters then. Would you say your team has-"

A frantic knock at your door halts his question. You don't mute the call, but you do give a slight raise of your hand. For professionalism's sake, you wouldn't typically answer the door. But this sounded urgent. Hardly anyone ever knocked.

Looking up from your laptop, you call out a clipped; "Come in."

Venn opens the door quickly, barely catching it from slamming against the wall behind it. Her eyes are wide with panic, breathing slightly labored. Fear grips your heart and your already tense body goes eerily rigid.

She's about to open her mouth when you give a pointed look back down at your laptop and the in-progress video call. Venn nods slightly in acknowledgment and takes a moment to calm herself.

"Lieutenant." She says, voice level and stiff.

"Is there something wrong, 2-1?" You do your best to keep your own tone even but damnit it's taking everything in you not to launch to your feet and into action. You don't even know the problem yet.

"There's…" Venn takes a second to think, breathing deeply through her nose. "We've got a.. we've got ourselves a code orange, sir."

You inhale sharply through clenched teeth.

"A code orange. Are you certain, 2-1?"

"Yes." Her quick reply. You nod and look back down to the waiting man on the screen.

"Sorry, Captain." You grit out. "But I'm 'fraid we'll have to reschedule."

"Tomorrow then?" He looks suspicious of your behavior, even more, concerned with the words you and your Shadow had shared. You couldn't worry about that right now. Not with a fucking code orange.

"Sure." You slam the end call button with a little more pressure than necessary. Poor keyboard. It was a surprise the damned thing was still running.

When the Captain's image closes and disappears from your screen, you jump to your feet.

"Are you sure?" You ask again as you stalk around your desk. Venn moves out of the way to allow you to exit your office, hurrying to catch up to you as you don't stop. You don't even know where you're heading.

"Where?"

Those implemented codes had never actually been used before. This was a first. No one knew what to do with themselves.

"The front gate, sir." Her voice trembles–hell, her whole body is shaking–and there's obviously something she's not telling you. You don't press for more. You will find out soon enough.

"The front gate?"

A fucking code orange.

"Yes."

An intruder.

You both more or less start jogging after that. She doesn't expand further. Simply half walk-half running by your side.

It takes a few minutes to make your way down to the first level of the facility–and that's far too much in your opinion. Every second that went by was a second you didn't know what was happening. A second out of your control. What if someone was hurt? Dead? Was the intruder attacking? Was it someone you knew? An outsider? Maybe just a lost tourist. This far away from the city made that last one very unlikely.

You push through the final door that leads to the front lawn and slow your pace to an assertive walk. It wouldn't do you well to let the unknown subject know their presence was a major concern for you. You didn't want to give them that pleasure.

Venn leaves your side to join–when the hell did they all get outside??–the alarmingly large grouping of your Shadows at the gate.

When she gets there and announces your arrival to the first Shadow she sees, they all turn to look at you. It takes you being a couple of feet from the group for the man she had whispered to to speak.

"Lieutenant." Kip sighs, raising both hands out in a placating manner. There's a certain wariness in his tone you aren't too fond of. "Don't panic. Lemme just preface this by saying-"

"Show me." You had no time for pleasantries.

Another sigh. "As you wish."

The sea of soldiers parts, giving you a front-row seat to the person standing in the middle of the opened gate.

A person you had never thought you'd see again. Never wanted to see again. Especially not smiling.

"Hey, there, Pha-"

"Detain him." It's a simple command. And your Shadows follow without a second thought. As you had mentioned; no one questioned your authority.

He lets himself be grabbed. Excessive ties around his wrists, strained a little more roughly behind his back than necessary. They herd him away quickly and silently, not uttering a word.

"What are you gonna do, sir?" Venn, very hesitantly–shifting her weight from side to side–asks.

"Whatever is necessary."

So much time had passed,

Midnight laughs, shared glances, desperate touches, breathy gasps, skin on skin-

But it was never enough.

___

@cptg00s3 @ruthgrimxiao @20nerd04-blog @gloma08 @mikahrh @in-down @hauntedapplefarm

If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know in the comments!

I figured I'd tag y'all just in case. I know it's probably not the fic you were expecting, but it's a part of the same AU and their paths with eventually cross. If you don't wanna be tagged for this fic in particular let me know! ^-^

[hypercodation]

From the Dark (Part 2)

Pairing: Ghost x M! Reader

Word count: 5k

Content: Cod alien/Xeno AU , Alien hybrid thing reader, slow-paced, violence, gore, not beta-read so expect spelling mistakes.

A/N: I just kept writing and writing so I'm sorry it's long :(.

∥ M.List ∥ Part 1 || Part 3 ||

The encounter with you weighed heavily on Ghost's mind as the team regrouped and returned to the mothership. The rain had lessened, but an eerie feeling of unease still hung in the air. The colonists they had encountered that were still alive and not attacking or had been incapacitated had been taken back with them. They were being tended to and secured by the team in the pod room, but Ghost found it challenging to focus on the present situation.

Even during the debriefing after everyone had settled to evaluate what they were gonna do now, Ghost was only paying half an ear of attention. His mind kept drifting back to you. He found himself wondering about your motives, your thoughts. Why had you saved him from the aggressive colonist? Your actions contradicted the reports of violence attributed to you, and Ghost felt a strange desire to understand the truth.

As the hours passed, the mothership's interior was filled with tense energy. The surviving colonists were traumatized, and the team did their best to provide comfort and security to them while patching their injured. 

On the other hand, Ghost found himself standing at the ship's viewport, staring out into the rain-soaked landscape. No matter how hard he tried to think about anything else, he could only think of you, your dangerous yet graceful-looking form, how smoothly you moved, and how utterly silent you were. He knew you could probably talk from the recordings he had heard, yet you didn’t to him. 

His thoughts were interrupted when Captain Price approached him. "You've been quiet, Ghost," Price remarked, his tone casual yet perceptive.

Ghost turned to face his Captain, "Yeah, Cap'. Just trying to make sense of all this."

Price leaned against the viewport's door frame, his eyes studying Ghost. "This isn't the first time we've encountered the unknown, lad. But I can see this situation is different. Something's bothering you."

Ghost hesitated, then decided to share a fraction of his experience. "I saw... something out there, Captain. Something that doesn't quite fit the reports and data we've gathered."

"What did you see?"

Ghost recounted the encounter with you, carefully omitting specific details and focusing on the essence of the situation. He described the way you had appeared, your actions. However, he left out the details of being unable to get you out of his head, nor shake the connection he felt with you during that brief interaction. 

Price listened in silence, his expression thoughtful. After Ghost finished, Price straightened and sighed. "The universe is still full of unexplainable things, Ghost. We can't always understand everything we encounter. But remember, we must protect and ensure the safety of those we can."

Ghost nodded, "I understand, Captain. But something about this feels... different. Almost like there's more to the story."

Price's gaze softened, and he placed a hand on Ghost's shoulder. "We'll do what we can to figure this out while we're here, Ghost. But for now, focus on the task at hand. We'll get these colonists to safety and deal with problems when they show up."

Ghost nodded appreciatively, grateful for Price's understanding and guidance. He knew he needed to push aside his thoughts and feelings for the time being and focus on the mission at hand. The safety of the surviving colonists depended on their actions.

As the days stretched on, the tension within the mothership eased a little as the team worked tirelessly to provide care for the surviving colonists. Medical bays were filled with the injured, and the living quarters were temporarily transformed into makeshift shelters. 

Ghost had done his best to follow Captain Price's advice and concentrate on his duties, but his thoughts would still wander back to you.

Gaz and Price had gone back into the temple to see if any injured were still there and to further investigate the dead bodies they had found. However, Price made sure they didn't go deeper than that, even after hearing what Ghost had said about you. 

They found more evidence of violence, destruction, and signs of a struggle. The situation appeared more complex and sinister than initially thought, the task force had initaly thought the colonists had killed their own after a mental break among them or internal squabble, however upon investigating the bodies and seeing the scratches, bite marks, and deep punctures wounds, Price knew it wasnt them. 

Price was reminded of what Ghost had told him, how you had attacked the colonist and the damage you did. It lined up perfectly with this. However, a few colonists remained missing, not fitting the population record they were given. Gaz had tried to start bagging bodies to bring back to the ship on the off-roaders they brought, but again remembering how you seemed to eat what you killed, you would come back for these.

Price didn't want to piss you off any more than the colonists had, and didn’t wants you coming to the mother ship. 

“Leave em’ Gaz, let's just grab the equipment left here and leave.” He orders, turing to start grabbing crates. 

“Sir?” Gaz ponder, confused as to what he was doing. 

“The thing that attacked them, will probably come back for its food. Let's not give it a reason to come after us.” 

That gets Gaz moving, forgetting about the bodies and moving to help transfer the tech back to the trucks. Price called in Ghost to bring over another truck considering how many spotlights, wiring, and tech the scientists had left there, they would need another truck, and Price wasnt going to leave anything there. 

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows around the temple, the team hurried to finish their tasks. The sound of raindrops falling echoed through the air, and Ghost's mind couldn't help but conjure images of your movements in the darkness

Gaz and Ghost worked side by side, loading equipment into the vehicles while maintaining a vigilant watch. They exchanged no words, the missing and dead colonists were a stark reminder that you were still out there, a presence that defied easy comprehension.

As the last of the items were loaded, Ghost cast a wary glance toward the temple's entrance, half-expecting to see you emerge at any moment. The shadows seemed to play tricks on his eyes, his imagination conjuring fleeting glimpses of movement that he couldn't quite pin down. The rain intensified, drumming a steady rhythm on the ground.

"Let's get out of here," Gaz muttered, his voice low and tense.

Ghost nodded, and just as he was about to climb into the vehicle, he realized he had put down his gun to carry the last few boxes. “Hold on, I gotta grab my Gun.” He hesitantly said, heading back for the entrance.

“Dont take too long! Gaz called before closing himself into the Truck to keep out the rain. 

Ghost was Quick to go back inside to get out of the rain, but only then realized how dark it was without any of the spotlights nor lamps set about. Pulling out his torch, he scans the area before seeing his gun leaning up against the wall. 

He went to grab it, however, a sudden blur of black dropped from the ceiling and landed with a foot on his gun. The impact snapped it in half and rendered the weapon useless. Panic set in with Ghost before he paned the light up and recognized your face staring down at him. 

You put an arm up over your eyes from the light, but before Ghost could lower it your tail whips round and knocks it out of your hand. It skids and spends on the floor till it hits the wall, the light now reflecting off the stone walls. 

Ghost flinches with pain, grasping his hand. Your tail cut through his glove like a hot knife in snow, his palm gashed and bleeding. 

He looks back to you, almost fearfully. You were slightly illuminated by the reflected light yet Ghost could still make out the dangerous elegance in your stance. His heart raced, and once again he was at your mercy. With his gun broken and his torch out of reach, he was left defenseless against your lethal capabilities.

Your nose twitches visibly, as you take in sharp quick inhales as you sniff the air. Ghost presumed you could smell the blood leaking from his hand. You take a tentative step closer, cautious and silent like approaching a wounded animal. 

Ghost doesn't back off or even move, but keeps a hand pressed to his injured one. You get close enough to Ghost that your looming form makes him want to back off. But he doesn't. Instead, he watches as you lower on your digitigrade legs, and snuff at his face. Your e/c eyes glowing and staring into his whiskey-colored ones. There's not a hint of malice in your eyes, more curiosity. 

Your eyes scan lower to where his hands were, and it clicks in your head that's where the blood was coming from.  With gentle clawed hands, you grab the one covering his injury and tug it gently. Ghost gets the hint and moves his hand away and lets you inspect his injury. 

You lean in closer, your cold fingers lightly brushing against Ghost's injured hand and poking through the glove. He tenses up at the contact, a mixture of fear and curiosity coursing through him. Your touch is surprisingly gentle, delicate even, as you examine his bleeding palm.

Ghost watches in a mixture of apprehension and fascination as you tilt your head, your nose almost touching his hand as you sniff the blood. Your e/c eyes never leave him.

You pull his hand closer to your face, and let your black tongue roll past your silver teeth. The first lick is hesitant and barely touches the palm of his hand. Your tongue is warm, so much warmer than your fingers. 

You start licking the blood from the surface of his hand, and your saliva is noticeably thicker than anything Ghost has encountered before. Even compared to the saliva of humans, dogs, cats, and cows, yours feels akin to the sensation of honey being drizzled onto his hand. It has a substantial consistency that isn't adhesive, similar to a damp cloth.

After a few moments, you retract slightly and let out a soft chuffing sound, almost like a sigh. It's a surprisingly human-like gesture, and it sends a shiver down Ghost's spine. Without breaking eye contact, you raise your clawed hand to your mouth, revealing your long, pointed, silver teeth as you delicately lick the blood from your fingers.

It's an oddly intimate moment, and Ghost's heart races as he watches you. He's torn between the primal fear of the unknown and an inexplicable desire to know more about you. 

Once you've finished, you straighten up and step back, your eyes never leaving Ghost's face and your hand not leaving his. Ghost's hand still throbs from the wound, but he finds himself captivated by your presence.

Suddenly, the distant sound of an engine revving breaks the tension in the air. Ghost startles, tearing his gaze away from you to see the hind lights of the truck alight and shining through the dark of the night. Gaz calls out, his voice laced with urgency, "Ghost, come on! We need to go, now!"

Gaz's voice pulls Ghost out of the strange trance he was in. He tears his eyes away from you, torn between the urge to stay and the need to return to safety. With a last, lingering look, he takes a step back, putting more distance between the two of you.

You slowly let go of his hand, letting your fingers run over what was left of his glove. Your eyes dont waver from his own. 

"Go," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the rain.

Ghost hesitates for a moment longer, his gaze locked onto yours. He was taken aback by your voice, despite how quiet you were.  Then, with a reluctant nod, he turns and bolts for the truck. He jumps in just as Gaz takes the clutch off.

 As they pulled away from the temple, Ghost's gaze lingered on the entrance, half-expecting to catch a final glimpse of you.

As the truck rumbles through the rain-soaked landscape, Ghost can't shake the feeling of being torn between two worlds. The encounter leaves him with more questions than answers.

Back on the mothership, the tension seemed to have permeated every corner of the vessel. The surviving colonists were settling in, finding some measure of comfort within the ship's confines. 

Ghost watched as Captain Price coordinated the efforts, his presence a steadying force amidst the chaos. Soap had become a sort of comedic relief to the colonists, joking about and keeping them company. While Gaz found himself proving useful by assisting Price and helping whenever people asked him.

However, Ghost knew Gaz must have been trying to figure out what took him so long in the temple, considering he came out without his gun and had lost his flashlight and didn't seem injured or distraught. Gaz would glance at him now and then as if to read him. 

Gaz eventually, approached Soap in hopes of some form of support with his thoughts. 

Gaz found Soap in a relatively quiet corner of the mothership's makeshift common area. The colonists were settling in, chatting amongst themselves, or sitting in small groups. Soap was sitting on a crate, absentmindedly cleaning his weapon. Gaz approached, his expression thoughtful.

"Hey, Soap," Gaz began, his tone slightly hesitant.

Soap looked up, offering Gaz a nod. "Aye, Gaz. Everything alright?"

Gaz leaned against a nearby wall. "Yeah, mostly. Just got something on my mind."

Soap set his weapon down and looked at Gaz with a patient expression. "Shoot."

Gaz sighed, trying to find the right words. "It's about Ghost. When we were pickin’ up the gear from the temple earlier, he took longer than he should've in the temple. He came out without his gun and flashlight even though he went in for his gun. "

Soap raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Keep goin’.” 

Gaz rubbed his neck, collecting his thoughts. "I think something happened in there, something he's not telling us. When he finally came back, he was a bit off, like he had seen something... strange."

Soap's gaze narrowed slightly, sensing the gravity of the situation. "Strange how?"

Gaz hesitated before continuing, lowering his voice. "He was acting weirdly calm like he had seen something that should've freaked him out, but instead, he was just... quiet. And there was something in his eyes."

Soap's brows furrowed as he processed the information. "You think he encountered something in the temple?"

Gaz nodded, his expression serious. "Yeah, and I don't think it was just another colonist. Whatever it was, I think it's connected to those missing people and the attacks. And maybe even to that thing he described before, the one that attacked the colonists."

Soap sighed and leaned back against the wall. "This situation just keeps getting more complicated. We need to figure out what's going on here."

Gaz looked around at the colonists, his gaze settling on Ghost, who was engaged in conversation with some of the injured. "Yeah, but we can't let this place turn into a war zone again. Those people have been through enough."

He lets out a sigh, "I just hope Ghost opens up about what he saw in there. It might be a key to solving this puzzle."

Soap clapped Gaz on the shoulder. "We'll talk to him when the time's right. For now, let's focus on keeping everyone safe and getting out of here in one piece."

Gaz gave a small smile, appreciating Soap's reassurance. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Soap."

By the time the next day rolled around, Ghost hadnt slept and was on the edge of his seat the whole day. He wanted to go back out and to see you, to talk to you more. But he had no idea how to excuse himself. It was suspicious enough of him to have spent that time with you yesterday and the last thing he wanted was tension between the team. 

His had been no issue from when he left you, though a small amount of pain in his palm whenever he curled his hand, your saliva had acted like a bandage and numbing cream to it. He wanted to wash the fluid from his hand, but it kept his injury from being exposed or even hurting. And it still held the warmth of your tongue from then, grossly enough. 

Gaz and Saop came up to the pacing Ghost, who halted when they stood to him. 

“Aye Ghost, some of the Colonists are going out to recover things from their settlement. Were goin’ with to help with the heavy lifting.” Soap started, “Wanna come? Im sure Price has things handled here.” 

Soap and Gaz both knew they could handle it, but they wanted to get Ghost alone so they could question him, and get him where he couldn't run back to his temporary room to avoid their questions. 

Ghost looked at Soap and Gaz, their expressions filled with a mix of concern and determination. He considered their offer, torn between his desire to learn more about you and his responsibilities within the team. The prospect of going out with the colonists seemed like a way to escape the tension in the mothership, at least temporarily.

"Yeah, sure. I could use a change of scenery," Ghost replied, trying to sound casual while hiding his inner turmoil.

Gaz nodded in agreement. "Alright, then. We'll meet up with the colonists in the hangar in about half an hour. Just gather any supplies you might need."

Ghost gave a small nod and watched as Soap and Gaz walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He knew he had to be cautious about what he revealed to them, especially after the encounter he had with you. 

As he gathered his supplies and equipment, Ghost's mind kept drifting back to you. He remembered the feel of your touch and the unexplainable calmness that had settled over him during your encounter. 

Once he had his gear ready, Ghost made his way to the hangar where the rest of the team and the colonists were gathering. The colonists were visibly anxious but grateful for the assistance.

The journey to the settlement was relatively uneventful, with the team and colonists loading up vehicles and making their way through the rain-soaked landscape, now the rain had stopped and clouds parted to make way for the sun. 

Upon reaching the settlement, Ghost and the others began helping the colonists gather their belongings and equipment. As they worked, Ghost's mind raced, he was almost considering running off to the monument to find you again. He couldn't shake you, no matter how much he tried to distract himself, he felt addicted. 

Gaz and Soap joined Ghost, each taking a seat on a nearby crate. There was a brief moment of silence before Soap spoke up.

"Gaz and I were talking," Soap began, his voice gentle. "We know something's bothering you. You can talk to us, Ghost."

Gaz nodded, his expression serious. "We're a team, and we look out for each other. Whatever you saw in that temple, whatever's on your mind, you don't have to face it alone."

Ghost looked at his friends, their concern evident in their eyes. He hesitated, then let out a sigh, realizing that he couldn't keep his feelings bottled up any longer. "I saw something in the temple, I can't explain it fully, but it's been on my mind ever since."

Soap leaned forward, his gaze focused on Ghost. "Tell us what you saw."

Ghost took a moment to gather his thoughts. "When I was in the temple, I encountered... something. Someone, rather. It wasn't a colonist. It was the one that attacked the others. But when I saw it, it didn't attack me. It seemed curious, almost... gentle."

Gaz frowned, clearly intrigued but also cautious. "What do you mean, 'gentle'?"

Ghost looked down at his hands, his gaze distant. "It licked my hand, where I was injured. Like it was... tending to the wound. Its saliva... had a numbing effect. It stopped the bleeding and dulled the pain."

Soap and Gaz exchanged another glance, their expressions a mix of surprise and concern. Soap was the one to speak first. "That's... unexpected. So, what is this thing? Do you know anything about it?"

And so, in that sunny corner of the courtyard, Ghost began to recount his encounters with you—the initial meeting, how you saved him. He tells them what he told Price and how he knew you were what he saw in the files. 

He left nothing out, his words pouring out as he tried to make sense of the emotions that had been stirred within him.

Soap and Gaz listened in silence, absorbing every word. When Ghost finally finished, there was a pause, the weight of the revelation hanging in the air. Gaz broke the silence, his voice low. "So, this thing... it's not just mindless violence. There's more to it."

Soap nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "It's intelligent, capable of communication in some form."

Ghost looked at them, his eyes searching their faces for understanding. "I don't know what it is, or what it wants. But I can't shake the thoughts, "

Soap stood up, his gaze steady. "First thing tomorrow, we'll talk to Price. He needs to know about this. And then, we'll continue gathering information. We'll get to the bottom of this mystery."

But they wouldn't get the chance, as after their break a Colonist ends up being unaccounted for. Paranoid, Ghost goes to check on the situation. Following the trail, it leads right back to the temple. He could almost sigh at the stupidity of people, they were attacked and held hostage as warm mead by a predator, and yet were dumb enough to go back into your territory. 

With his heart pounding, Ghost began to follow the trail of the missing colonist. Every step felt heavy, his thoughts racing as he navigated through the rain-soaked terrain. His mind was a mix of frustration and concern. He couldn't understand how anyone could be so reckless as to venture out alone, especially after everything that had happened.

As he neared the temple, Ghost's senses were on high alert. The memories of his previous encounter with you flooded back, and he knew he was at least safe from your violence. The shadows seemed to twist and play tricks on his vision.

Ghost, remembering the last time, decided to leave his gun at the entrance. You broke his last one and did it purposefully so. Using his newly obtained flashlight, he walked into the monument. 

He kept his footsteps as quiet as possible, his every movement deliberate. He moved with caution, he wasn't sure what he was going to find, but he was prepared for the worst. The trail led him deeper into the temple, the darkness swallowing him as he ventured further. 

The bodies that had previously led into your nest had been gone, replaced by pools of blood and a gooey substance that was familiar to Ghost. One that made his hand twitch. If Ghost was being honest to himself, he was more worried about what the colonist was doing than what you could do to them. 

Then, in the distance, he heard it – A gunshot. 

It instantly put him on edge, sending a shiver down his spine as he quickened his pace further in. Though he slows down again when finally reaching what was dubbed “your territory”. The walls turing into tubes of black similar to the ones making up your skin, and they occasionally dribble slime from the walls or ceiling. 

The puddles stuck to his boots and made it impossible to walk silently. He trudged along until he came to a large room made up of tubes winding and intertwining. His eyes land on the back of the colonist, shoulders shanking and hands out in front of them as if holding something. 

But he wasn't alone. You were there, your form partially obscured by the shadows. Ghost's heart raced as he took in the scene – You pinned to a corner, shoulder bleeding from a gash, a greenish liquid dribbling down your arm. You are on all fours, lanky limbs tense, and your back arched like a cat. Your posture seemed... almost protective.

Only once analyzing you did Ghost realizes the bodies of the previously dead colonists cocooned into the walls, their heads peaking out the top and oddly clean of blood. Some were missing limbs or dribbling stale blood. 

The colonists must have come here to end you themselves but ended up in a face-off in your nest. In the heart of it too. The sight of the other dead colonists must have startled them and they shot you. While only scratching you, it was still an injury, and you didn't seem to be attacking. 

They were trapped, unable to move, their fear palpable. You were staring at them, unmoving and unwavering as you held dominant eye contact despite your lower position. 

Your e/c eyes shimmered in the darkness, your gaze focused on the colonist. Your tail occasionally flicked against the ground, its movements almost hypnotic. Despite the tension in the air, there was a strange sense of calmness around you, a stark contrast to the fear that radiated from the colonist.

Now did Ghost wish he had brought his gun along, he didn't know the colonists had gotten their hands on one. He felt conflicted – torn between his duty to the colonists and the instincts to protect you. 

Watching from the shadows, Ghsot watches as your eyes flicker from the colonist to him. Your expression went from controlled nothingness to a look of wonder and confusion. The intensity of your gaze sent a shiver down Ghost's spine, but it wasnt an aggressive gaze. 

The colonist notices your shift in gaze and believes there's another of your kind behind them considering they heard nothing. Without a morsel of thought, they whip around gun blazing. Before they could even realize it was Ghost, they let off three shots, one passing through his biceps and the other two embedding into his chest. 

You let out an audible whine in worry as Ghost falls back and down onto the ground, coughing as blood seeps through his vest and uniform. 

The colonist realizes what they've done, only a second too late. Dropping the gun, they gasp and back up. That sets you off, and the still contains Ghost, who lifted his head painfully to the sound of the colonist dropping the gun. 

One, two, three steps back and your hissing your head off as the colonist enters your space. The colonist doesn't stand a chance, you pounce with powerful hind legs and claws bare into flesh mercilessly. Your tale goes in and out, in and out of their stomach, the tip of your barbed, knife-like tail sticking out the back of the colonist as you bury your teeth into his neck. 

It was unlike your attack when you got it over with quickly. You made it painful, repeated stabs, scratches, and bites. Like this was an act of revenge. Ghost, in his state of injured delirious, couldn't decide if it was for trespassing, injuring you, or shooting him. 

You continue to tear into the colonist even after their back hits the floor and they are dead. You rear up and let out an angry scream in their faces, that of a mixture of animals that cumulated into that of a nightmare-inducing noise. 

You stand back to your feet, a furious look in your eyes as you let out a few huffs to clear the blood that sputtered up your nose. Your furious gaze turns to Ghost and he's on edge instantly. He's injrued but tries to pull himself away, pushing himself backward in a skitter away from you. 

But even upright and uninjured, you could catch him easily. Your claws audibly escape the ground as you approach Ghost. Your tail swaying angrily behind you, the sound of a rattlesnake and clicking of a whip as it does so. 

His back hits a wall and has panting from pain. Ghost can't move, helplessly watching as you approach him. However, he doesn't hold out long enough, vision blurring and eyes drooping. He tries to fight unconsciousness, but pain and blood loss began to settle in as the adrenaline drops. His eyes roll back and the last thing he sees is your blood-dripping face. 

[hypercodation]

Emergency Contact (2/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

-> PART ONE OF EMERGENCY CONTACT

Summary: You never expected Simon to come to your aid, and Simon assures you that he would come every single time.

A/N: I genuinely appreciate the support of this concept <3 I truly did not expect so many people to want a part two, so here it is! please rb with what you think, i love to hear y’all’s thoughts! i’m honestly not the happiest with this, but i did what i could. i may rewrite this in the future.

[WARNINGS: Hospital setting, fluff, hurt/comfort, medical inaccuracies, ooc Simon.]

IT TAKES YOU FOUR DAYS to wake up. Four entire days for you to even move an eye muscle. Four days of anxiety, of Simon lying in wait, waiting for sign of life. Despite the doctors’ assurances of your condition, the confirmed brain activity, Simon was panicking.

He just couldn’t lose you, too. Not when he has such a great thing going for him, so when he learns you’re in a mini coma—induced by your own body to allow your body to rest and heal, he can’t help but freak out. His mind screaming that you’ll never wake up, that you’ll always by lying in a hospital bed, until someone in your family decides to come and pull the plug. He tried to keep himself preoccupied—he read books and articles on his phone, memorized each time the nurses came in to check your vitals, he even texted Price an update about his situation—it wasn’t much information, but he said something along the lines of something happened at home and he thinks his leave with have to be for a month, but there’s a good chance it might be longer.

Simon barely left the room—he couldn’t. Not when at any moment you could wake up, or any moment you could’ve died. He didn’t manage much sleep, either. Every time he managed to fall asleep, the same nightmare would play; what he imagined how your accident went. He imagined you walking down on the sidewalk towards the crosswalk down a street you both frequented together. You were always careful when walking—he knew you were having car troubles for the last few weeks. You press the button on the crosswalk pole to trigger the lights to turn red. Cars slow to a stop, and your crosswalk signs turns to a walking man. You quickly hurry across the crosswalk, but a car comes speeding down—and smashes right into you, full speed, sending you across the road. Simon is just standing there, watching. Completely unable to help. He always wakes up once he walks up to your mangled body.

Simon gasps quietly and jolts awake again, blinking the bleariness away, and the slow beeps and exhales of your machines come back. His rapid heartbeat begins to slow as he realizes that he’s still beside your hospital bed. He looks at you—you’re no longer on a ventilator, but you have an oxygen mask, a way to help your collapsed lung. It makes him feel a bit better, but Simon would very much prefer your eyes to be open, your fingers moving against the blanket you’d likely hate the texture of when you woke up—if you woke up—and he would want to feel your muscles moving under your skin. He also tries to ignore the fear of you having Amnesia after waking up.

Simon isn’t sure when he laid his head back down, but it shoots back up the second he hears a quiet noise escape you—it’s the first sign of life to Simon, his wide eyes scanning your body. His eyes fly to your hand, your fingers twitching a bit. Simon grabs ahold of your twitching hand immediately and looks at your face and he isn’t so sure why his heart is pounding beneath his ribs, but he doesn’t have too much time to focus on it as your arm twitches. It’s like you’re slowly coming back to life in a weird way, but Simon finds himself totally silent, like he can’t find the right words to say just yet. He doesn’t mean to hold his breath, but he does as he watches your shoulder twitch next, and then your eyebrows furrow. Your eyes are already closed, but you squeeze your eyelids together harder. Simon realizes that you haven’t had your eyes open for about four days, so he quickly dims the rooms lights and returns right back next to you. Simon reaches for your hand and gently holds it, watching you slowly get your surroundings.

Your eye flutter open slowly and you blink, and it’s obvious you don’t immediately process that you’re in the hospital. A croaky moan of discomfort leaves you and Simon sits up, the worry eating at his stomach. You look at Simon with unfocused and exhausted eyes and your eyebrows furrow again and your lips part.

“..Simon?”

He releases the breath he was holding and he nods, his black mask slightly moving as his lips move. “I’m right here, [name]. Right here.” Simon absolutely hates how shaky his voice is, and he watches you bit your lip as your eyes begin to fill with tears. His heart skips a beat—what’s wrong? Are you in pain? Are you scared? Simon decides he needs to know because he can fix it, he can help you, right? He needs to fix it—“Y.. You came for me..” You whisper, blinking a tear rolls down your cheek to your jaw quickly. Simon’s own eyebrows furrowed—did you think he wouldn’t? “Of course I did, love.” He murmurs, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I will always come for you.” You try to hold in the quiet sob, but your shoulders begin to shake. Simon reaches up and gently wipes away a tear with his thumb while he squeezes your hand. “No tears now, hm? You’ve.. You’ve survived the impossible.” Simon says, forcing his voice to be steady. His eyes begin to burn with his own set of tears forming. “I came as soon as I heard, [name]. Don’t ever think I wouldn’t come for you.“

Your lower lip curls as you try to not cry from his sentiment; this is the man who took you in after losing everything, and it took him a long while to even let you know of his actual name, let alone see his face unmasked. This is the man who does not tell you the details of his job, but you know that he could be killed from it. This is the man who sits next to you near his windowsill when you both can’t sleep—the man who wakes up, just knowing something is up. He makes you a cup of your favorite morning drink whenever he can, he signs his sticky notes with a poorly drawn skull instead of his name, he makes piss poor dad and army type jokes, annoys you with his cockiness and bought you a damn mattress and bed-frame—even thought he never had to. He remembers the little things about you, your favorite shows and games—your favorite books, your favorite foods, hell, he remembers every little awful story about your workplace and your job. He’s always been like a wild animal—you come too close and he flees, but if you’re patient do what he needs, he’ll come to you.

Simon blinks away the tears and he clears his throat, his voice hesitant as he speaks. “You made me your emergency contact.” His tone isn’t questioning or warbling in any way—he says it like a statement, a fact, which it is. You laugh quietly which quickly turns into a grimace, causing Simon’s thumb to stop moving over your knuckles for a moment. Of course any movement or sound would hurt. “I.. I had to put one down, I just.. put the first person who came to mind.. Y’know?” You murmured nervously. Simon’s breath hitches for a moment and he only responds with a “mmh” for the time being, which definitely makes you way more nervous than you started out to feel. Your heart monitor spikes for a moment, causing Simon to speak up. “Hey—just relax, okay? M’not mad, love. Not mad at all,” He begins. He glances away from you for a moment before looking back with such a vulnerable look—like he’ll break at any moment. “It was just.. a surprise. That’s all.” But both of you know it was more than just a surprise. It was a small declaration of prioritizing each other—you setting him as the first person to be notified for an emergency, and his acceptance of this role. Simon never thought he would be sitting here, beside anyone else than his teammates in a hospital setting.

Simon isn’t sure when he fell in love with you. Whether it was the first moment he laid eyes on you or way later down the road—he doesn’t know. What he does know is that this.. feeling, isn’t as scary as it used to be. People getting close to him used to terrify him and it still does—but.. there’s something about you. Something about you that makes Simon feel safe. Makes him feel like he doesn’t have to sit in the corner to watch the entire room, you make him feel like he doesn’t have to sleep with a hunting knife stashed under his pillow. You make him feel like he doesn’t have to question your motives with anything you do, you make Simon feel like he can just sit down and relax without having to worry about, well.. anything else besides from the question of what you’ll have for dinner that night. He tries to hold in the shuddery breath and when he can’t, his eyes dart away to your arm. You open your lips to speak again, but you begin to cough. Simon grabs the paper cup of water that has a straw in it that he’s prepared for you everyday just in case you had woken up and he slots the straw between your lips, which you greedily accept and drink down the cold water. It soothes the ache in your throat from being on the ventilator and from not speaking for a couple of days. Once you’re satisfied, he places the cup back on the side table. “Hey, Si,” You croak, your fingers weakly squeezing his hand. Simon’s eyes immediately meet yours again, searching for any hint of pain. You lick your lips, a light smile coming to them. “Two blondes walk into a bar. You’d think one of ‘em would’ve seen it.” He stares at you for a moment, his eyebrows raising. “Did.. Did you just..” You laugh weakly and nod, looking at him. “I did.” You clear your throat again and squeeze his fingers. “Did it because you’re in your head.. Don’t hafta think so.. so much when you’re with me, Simon.”

Simon brushes his thumb over your knuckles once again and he can’t help but silently agree—he doesn’t have to think about anything right now, he can just sit here, with you—even if it’s in a place like this, with you in a condition like that. Simon looks at you and you look back at him, into his soul—and for the first time, he doesn’t want to look away.

taglist;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja @cumikering @silent-neptune @purechaosss @hauntedpass @mxtokko @meimhem [crossed out = not able to tag sorry!]

[hypercodation]

Emergency Contact (1/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

>> emergency contact concept here << PART TWO HERE!!

Summary: Simon is your roommate, and you haven’t seen each other in months, considering Simon’s job. An unfamiliar number pops up on Simon’s phone, and answering it makes his world turn upside down.

A/N: How you two moved in together is very vaguely inspired this ghost fic right here. please give it a read! If you finish the song above, I highly recommend listening to the entire album while reading. i’m not the happiest with this, but i’m happy enough to post!

[WARNINGS: Blood and injury, traumatic events/trauma brought up, gore, little comfort, medical inaccuracies, tbh ooc simon but it’s ok.]

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since he’s been home, since he’s seen you. That’s how long he’s been stuck on base, or thrown into a foreign country to complete some mission, or to gather some intel, or to kill someone, just somewhere, anywhere but with you.

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since you softly asked him to stay as safe as he can, and to come back alive, and to come back with at least eight fingers. It was a running joke between you two, a way to relieve the terrifying reality of his job; as long as Simon came home alive and with majority of his fingers, he could consider it a job well done. You didn’t know much of his job, of course—only that he’s military, and he’s gone a lot. You already guessed it was a lot of classified stuff, probably down top secret government type of things. That did make you scared, though. You didn’t want the day to come, the day where people in fancy uniforms show up at your doorstep like you’re some widow. The thought of someone informing you of Simon’s death makes your stomach twist.

Eight months is admittedly a long time. Simon.. he missed you, but he’s rather die that verbally admit it, but he sure as hell felt it. He missed the way he could hear you walk through the house, the weight of the floorboards creaking up your feet. Simon missed walking by the bathroom and the air vaguely smelled your shampoo and body wash, a clear indicator you had just taken a shower. Simon missed the way you carelessly have your shoes next to the shoe rack, not even on it, and despite his annoyance of your laziness? He misses it every single time he’s away. He never really realizes the difference of living on base versus being home with you, and he’s comfortable in both environments for completely different reasons. Simon is comfortable with you because you’re safe, you aren’t associated with anyone he has to deal with on a near daily basis. You don’t scan the kitchen to see which household items could be potential bombs in the vicinity like he does. On base, Simon finds comfort in the familiarity of being constantly on alert, the need for a gun to be against his hip—it’s not the best, considering he’s in fight mode majority of the time, but it’s comforting. It’s familiar. It’s.. home, in a way.

You and Simon call at least once every three weeks—it’s not more because you’re both busy, you have your life to tend to while he has to do something like protecting an American Embassy, or sneaking into a compound to retrieve some vital information. You two talk about all kinds of things; you complain about the neighbors for the nth time, or you talk about your job, just something that he hasn’t heard about in a while. Simon.. he’s limited on what he can talk about—what he wants to talk about. It’s a bit difficult, keeping details of his job hidden away from you. He also keeps you hidden away from them; his team. Price vaguely is aware of your existence, but all he knows is your name and your phone number—someone to alert when he eventually would pass away.

It surprised Price when he requested access to his own file to make a change. Simon went for years without anyone in that section, leaving it blank—and then suddenly ‘[Name] [Last Name]’ is written down, along with your phone number. Simon doesn’t want to die somewhere and then you sit at home, dreading the fact that you haven’t received a call from him for over six months. Other than that, no one is aware of your existence and he wants to keep it that way. It keeps you safe, and he doesn’t want the one thing he has going in his life to be taken away from him—not like everything else has been.

No, you and Simon aren’t together. You just are the one constant he cannot allow to die. How you and Simon became close was rather funny, really—before you were roommates, you bumped into each other at the local stores, the bank, even several public spaces like parks and such. You didn’t see him too often and you weren’t aware on why, but you didn’t really wonder why either. By this point, you knew each other for a couple of months. He introduced himself as SR—not Ghost or Simon, but as SR. You didn’t bother to question it because this tall, bulky man seemed like he was trying keep himself as anonymous as possible. Without fail, you always saw him wear dark colored clothing that hid any identifiable markings—tattoos and scars, that kind of thing. He usually has his hood up with a black face mask covering his nose down, but you do know one thing—he has to have bright blonde hair. Why else would his beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows be that bright? It would catch your eye every time you’d see them. Sometimes you would see him with a beanie on and the mask, with his hood down. This wasn’t too often, as it exposed some scarring he has on the back of his neck, as well as his forehead. This also silently lead you to believe he has a tough past of some sort, which is confirmed when you run into him somewhere you never expected to—your therapist’s building. You bumped into him right outside, and you apologized profusely before looking and going silent as you made eye contact.

A silent agreement was made between you two that day, one that you could never put into words. Something in that moment that dragged you two closer together. You had been through some shit in your life, shit that had permanent effect on you, shit that you wanted to work through. It was horribly tiring, but you knew you needed to work through it—so you could live a life you felt was worth living. Simon, was on the other side of the spectrum. He didn’t want this. He never wanted to tell anyone about anything, but Price, Price fucking made him. Simon spends his days and nights plagued with nightmares and memories—he’s woken up in the middle of the night enough times to know that he needs help, but he was so adamant about not talking to anyone about it. But seeing you there? Someone who he hasn’t known for long, someone who had always greeted him with a smile on your face, laughter spilling from your beautiful vocal cords, and someone who doesn’t touch him without permission? It made him so angry and hopeless about this world. Not even you, a stranger who he sees as the best human being he’s known in a while—despite not knowing you for long—could escape from the cruel and sharp jaws of the world. You found out you two accidentally scheduled the same days, so it became an unspoken agreement to wait for the other outside of the building so you can both go in. Even when you weren’t sure when his next appointment would be, you’d be right outside of that building, waiting for him. You would always be right there, and that’s something he quickly learned.

You lost your house to a fire, everything went with the burning embers that raged inside of the 4 walls of your previous home, the structure collapsing in on itself. You had gotten out in time, and you numbly watched the fire roar, the crackling burning it’s memory in your ears. The piercing sound of different sirens were approaching, but all you could do is stand there with your phone in your hand, watching the home you worked so hard for burn to the foundation built years ago. You felt a hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t bother to turn to see who it was. Everything was going so slow, almost like a movie scene in the worst way possible. Your nostrils burned from the smell of burning wood, drywall, and installation. The hand squeezed your shoulder and you slowly looked at who it was—and was him. Simon. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes ever so slightly panicked and it was obvious he was asking you something, but you didn’t hear him. All you could focus on was that he was here. You blinked rapidly as your eyes began to burn from the smoke and from that choked feeling going from your chest to your throat. “I..” You croak ever so slightly. You couldn’t hold it back—you quickly grabbed onto Simon desperately, letting out a heart-wrenching sob because you just lost everything you owned, every memory, every piece of furniture, everything.. but he was here. He was the only thing was wasn’t crumbling away from your grasp, the only constant. Once you clung to him, Simon’s senses were flooded with you. Fuck, your touch burned, just like everyone’s else’s but he liked—no, loved how it felt. Despite the image of a burning house in his wake making dread bubble in his gut, your sobs and touch were the only thing he could focus on. Simon hesitates for only a second before pulling you into his personal space, his arms wrapping around you and weighing heavily on your body. Neither of you spoke, he just let you scream into his chest and sob, your fists gently banging against his chest—the anger, the sadness, everything was too much. Simon knew exactly how you were feeling, so he didn’t mind the twinges of pain your hands produced. Simon was the one who helped you while you chatted with the paramedics and the police. He was the one who helped you find your words when you had none left to share, the smell of the smoke imprinted on your clothes.

Without question, Simon took you to his house. He did not have another bed set up, so he had you sleep in his room while he slept on his couch. He hated the hollow look your eyes held, the way you were delayed with your answers, the ways your hands shook. Your everlasting smile had dissipated into a wobbly frown and he.. Simon couldn’t handle it. He grabbed you some of his clothes and helped you into his bathroom, quietly telling you to take a shower. He’ll take care of your clothes. Simon left you alone, and you showered for a long time. He didn’t count, but it was over an hour and a half. Simon didn’t say anything about you possibly racking up his bill, how could he when you had just lost everything? He wanted to.. to help you, and he wasn’t sure why. Even when he found himself scrubbing your smoke and tar covered clothes in his kitchen sink, he couldn’t find an exact reason why he wanted to help you. Maybe it’s because you made him feel human when he needed to be, maybe you were the one thing that kept him coming back to this town, the one thing that kept him from completely pulling away from the civilian world. You had found him in a corner like a dog, lips curled back and snarling—sharp teeth clashing together, and without a word, you gave him reasons to trust you. Although they may not be.. normal reasons to the regular eye, but they were enough for Simon.

You’re enough for Simon. He scrubbed your clothes until his arms burned, and then some.

That’s when he found out that you too, were also someone who could not stay asleep for long. When Simon awoke with his adrenaline pumping from the muffled sound of vomiting, he had to calm himself down because he’s safe, and you’re safe, most of all. Simon isn’t sure when he began to think that way, but it’s one of the many things he’s decided to not question—which also new for him. Simon is man who demands answers, yet with you? it’s like everything naturally falls into place, which is why he doesn’t complain when your stay at his house—which you swore would only be until you gathered enough money for an apartment—turned from a two week stay, to Simon carrying in an IKEA bed frame to put and assemble in one of his empty rooms. Many sleepless nights came and went, and each and every one you spent them with each other, sitting by a windowsill together, other times spending it in the backyard and looking at the sky. Sometimes you would wake up first, sometimes it would be him. You somehow always knew when he had woken up from a nightmare, his heart pounding in his ears—until your hands grab his and squeeze, to ground him. You burn him, and he welcomes the tickle of your ever-glowing flame. A year into this arrangement, Simon finally shows you his face and he appreciates that you don’t look at him any different. He usually hates the searching eyes, trying to memorize every inch of his face—but he’s greedy when you do it. When your eyes roam over every scar and acne scar, when you point out his messily cut hair and half-assed shaven stubble, he doesnt get angry. Simon doesn’t feel suffocated by your glances. He doesn’t wear his mask at home anymore, not when you’re there.

Then Simon gets the notice about his three month leave ending soon; and he knows that you need to know about his job. Or at least, the bare minimum you need to know. In reality, it’s how much he wants you to know, but he doesn’t want to admit that. He sits you down one morning, a cup of tea in his hand and he had a mug of your favorite morning drink on the other side of the table he had bought a few weeks you started staying here. Simon explains that he has a job in the military, that he can’t tell you much, but it means he’s going to be gone for weeks, even months at a time. You’re at a loss at first, because who is going to have an extremely positive reaction to “by the way, I work an extremely dangerous job and I can’t tell you anything and I’ll be gone for a while.. Oh yeah, you likely won’t know if I die!”? Despite your initial reaction, you grow to be okay with this situation. Or, we’ll, as okay as you can be with it. You also find out that he was here for way longer than he originally is, due to his boss demanding him to take a break—AKA, “go to therapy you dafty”.

For a little over two years, you two fell into a good rhythm. A call every three weeks, him coming home and you becoming the safest space he’s ever had in his life.

Which is why when his personal cell phone begins to vibrate in his pocket during some fuck-all meeting, his eyebrows furrow. The number is unfamiliar, but the area code is not. Simon quietly excuses himself from the extended round table, taking his call outside of the meeting room. Price’s eyes follow his figure as he exits, noticing it’s his personal cell phone in his hand. Simon answers the call and presses his phone against his masked ear, muttering a low, “Hello?”

A high-pitched, soft yet serious voice filters through the speaker, a woman. “Hi, is this Mr. Riley?”

Simon pauses, and so does his heart. “Who’s asking?”

He honestly regrets asking that in the moment—one part of him genuinely wishes he never answered this call, and the other part of him is glad he did. “I’m a nurse from Northern Manchester Community Hospital, you’re written down as [Name]’s emergency contact. They’ve been a victim of a hit and run situation, sir. They’re alive, but they’re in the ICU.” The nausea that suddenly bubbles inside of his guys, the stomach acid mixed with whatever he had eaten previously, threatening to travel up his esophagus, burn every inch and then exit with a horrific sound. Simon’s head began to spin—he’s your emergency contact? A hit and run, you were fucking hit?? By what, a car? A pick-up? A semi? God, Simon has seen the most horrible, gruesome, fucked up shit you would ever see in his entire life, yet he isn’t sure if he can handle the image of you spread out in a hospital bed, with one too many tubes circulating around you. His mind plagues him with intrusive images, ones he never wants to actually see played out. Fuck, his head hurts. It feels like someone is physically shoving a knife into his chest and twisting it, like God is laughing at him and playing with Simon’s pain for his own gain. How could he not think that, especially with everything that has happened to him? His friends, his family? His old CO? The fucking abuse he endured??

It’s like Simon lost his hearing for a moment, because he cannot bare fucking losing you, too. There’s a vague ringing in his ears, almost like there was an explosion and he stood too close. And then suddenly every sound comes rushing back to his eardrums, and everything suddenly everything is so fucking overwhelming. “Mr. Riley?” The nurse calls over the phone, her tone laced with worry. He clears his throat and when he speaks, he sounds wrecked, which he fucking hates. “I.. I’ll come as soon as I can.” Simon hangs up, not giving the nurse a moment to speak. He drops his phone and if he doesn’t sit down, he’s going to fall over like a tree that’s been cut down. Simon lets out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach is screaming and twisting as he puts a hand on the wall, and he crouches down. It’s the first time he doesn’t look around to see if anyone is watching his sudden display of emotion. When he’s suddenly rocked with the feeling of home at work, especially with the news that you’re fucking injured—he’s overwhelmed and twisted all over the place. Simon finds himself stumbling back to his barracks.

Price finds his way to him after Simon never returns to the meeting. He knocks on the door, but his knuckles pause before they can knock against the door for the third time as he discovers the door is open—which is very, very, odd. He slowly opens the door while calling for Ghost, and is met with the sight of Simon shoving some of his clothes and belongings into a duffle bag, as well as his military travel documents. “Ghost?” Price questions, who stopped in his doorway to watch Simon lose his mind while packing. Simon doesn’t respond as he practically rips his phone charger out of the wall and stuffs it into the bag, zipping it up. He slings it over his shoulder and he turns around, pausing when he sees Price. Simon’s eyes tell everything he’s feeling—that something’s happened, something bad, and he needs to leave. Price bites his lip and quietly exhales, his fingers rubbing at his chin. “I’ll approve your leave. Just shoot me a text of how long it needs to be, yeah?”

Simon makes sure to note to send Price a thank you of some sort, because within the next two hours, Simon is boarding a plane, heading for Manchester, wearing some black clothing, a jacket, a black face mask, gloves, and his beanie. The entire time, he could not stop thinking about you—and how you could possibly die before he got there to send off his final goodbyes. Is that something he would actually want to do, though? See you in the hospital, knowing it’ll be the last place you’d ever be alive in? Go home, see how you left the house exactly as you left it? A house, but without his home in it? Simon stares out the airplane window blankly, his hands curled into fists, and his nails would be digging into his palms if he didn’t have gloves on.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

The next part for Simon, it’s a blur again. Got off the plane, got his luggage, provided documentation, blah blah blah—he didn’t give a fuck about any of it. His focus was you. He didn’t bother to stop home to drop his stuff off, he took an Uber straight to the hospital from the airport. It was a fairly expensive Uber too, but he could worry about the costs of everything later. It took another half hour to get there.

His heart began to hammer in his chest as the sight of the hospital’s signs began to pop up on the road, the anxiety taking hold in his stomach and his head begins to hurt again. Simon quietly thanks the driver, tips them, and exits the car with a swiftness once they pull up. Simon walks through the main entrance’s sliding doors, going up to the desk. A woman behind the counter hangs up the phone, murmuring a goodbye, and then she looks at Simon with her pretty blue eyes. “How can I help you, sir?” She murmurs sweetly, noting how anxious he is. She can see the sweat on his brow line. Simon clears his throat, his voice rumbling in his chest when he speaks. It takes everything in him to not yell at this innocent woman and get thrown out. “My.. My name is Mr. Riley, I was called ‘cause my friend is here,” Simon manages to push out. “[Name] [Last Name].” The woman turns to her computer and clicks the couple of buttons and types a couple of words and holy fuck, Simon just wants to go to your wing already—“Ah, yes, I see you’re listed as their emergency contact,” The woman grabs a sticky note and writes with a pink pen your room number and elevator floor, handing it to Simon. He barely gets a “thank you” out before he nearly jogs to the nearby elevator. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283—it’s the longest minute long elevator ride in his entire fucking life.

Simon changes face masks whilst facing the wall, and then he finds your room number—and his heart is beating out of his chest. There’s cops standing outside of your room who stop him from entering. Simon’s anger flares up so quickly, he nearly makes a scene until a doctor exits your room. She’s wearing her usual blue scrubs, her coat, and she’s dawning a N95 and some sterile gloves. She’s holding a clipboard. “Mr. Riley?” She questions, holding the clipboard close to her chest. Simon nods without hesitation, and she responds, “I’m sorry, but due to the nature of this case, you’ll have to provide some identification for me and these officers.”

Usually, Simon would hesitate—he gives anyone outside of his team the bare minimum, hell, he only introduced himself as SR until he knew you for a while. This time, he takes out his military ID and shows it to the officers. He ignores their looks of surprise, and ignores the murmurs that come from them. Simon puts his ID away and he holds back the urge to shove them out of the way as he glares down at the doctor on accident. “Come in,” The doctor opens the sliding door and steps into the hospital ICU room with him. Simon follows behind her and he immediately smells the sickening smell only the ICU gives off. There’s a small wall blocking his view from you that he hasn’t past, and he can already hear the machines working. A heart monitor, a ventilator, combined with other machines he doesn’t know too well. The doctor flips through the papers pinned to her clipboard. “They were hit by a vehicle of some sort, the scene suggested they were walking home from the local corner store. [Name] has multiple broken bones and fractures, a punctured lung, a fractured jaw and internal bleeding. They lost a lot of blood at the scene.” Simon doesn’t respond as he slowly walks forward, and he finally lays his eyes on you. It’s.. traumatizing, to say the least. You were never supposed to be in a hospital bed like this, hooked up to machines he can’t even name. He slowly walks over to you, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. He doesn’t care to look where. Simon barely pays attention to what the doctor is saying—his hands tremble as he stands by your side, his heart thumping harshly in his chest. Fuck.

He drags over one of the chairs next to your bed. Simon takes off one of his gloves slowly, and then he tears the other one off in a frenzy. He feels so unlike himself, so.. different.. human. He reaches over to your hand and his fingers grab your wrist, so gentle as if you’re glass. Simon presses his fingers against your pulse point, counting your heartbeats despite the monitor. The thumping under your skin makes it more.. real. Feeling you, your heartbeat, your warmth and your skin—it’s comforting. Simon clears his throat and fights the urge to vomit once a gain, watching your chest rise and fall, produced by the ventilator.

He moves his hand to intertwine with your fingers and he uses his other hand to feel your pulse. Simon closes his eyes, muttering the beats per minute under his breath.

At least you’re alive—you’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him. And that’s all he asks for.

tags;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja — if you are not tagged, it’s not allowing me :-)

[hypercodation]

Just a reminder for fanfic authors:

Fanfiction will ALWAYS be superior to character.ai

Please don't ever stop writing!!

[hypercodation]

Okay so this is based on a dream I had, and I've been going feral over it ever since, so I had to get it out. This is purely self indulgent, but I hope you enjoy it.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

She/her or she/they's please don't interact, it makes me uncomfortable and you will get blocked.

Everybody gets high (why the hell can't I?)

ftm trans!reader x Soap+Ghost+König

This is pure, filthy, dirty, smut. There's no plot either, and I have no idea what kind of au this is. Read all the tags carefully.

Tags: medic!reader, no use of y/n, only pronouns used for reader are "you" and "he", AFAB reader (hole, t-dick, little cock used to describe genitalia), consensual non-con drug use, (the reader has a safe word set up but doesn't feel the need to use it.), aphrodisiacs/sex pollen use, unprotected sex (be safe people), unprotected p in v sex, double vaginal penetration, praise, degradation, slight feminization of the reader (very briefly, only the word "hen" used for them), exhibitionism, voyeurism, cumming inside multiple times, slight breeding kink (if you squint), slight cum eating, the others talk about the reader without directly addressing him with each other, stomach bulge, very very submissive/bottom reader, dominant/top SoapGhost&Konig, soft gentle aftercare

Word count: ~5k

Not edited/proofread. Sorry for any typos or mistakes

Please do not use this as a guide for actual real life sex. This isn't how any of this works irl, this is only possible because of the fictional aphrodisiac drug the reader is forced to take. Anyway, enjoy~

"Come on, m'eudail, if you're going to take Simon, you'll have to be able to take me first," Soap purrs into your ear as he's languidly thrusting two of his fingers in and out of your dripping hole.

You're whimpering and whining under him, stomach pressed into the infirmary bed as he drapes himself over you. You're entirely naked, the expanse of your skin on display for him while he's still fully clothed. The warm press of cloth against your skin has you flushed with embarrassment. You can't remember how you got to this point, nor do you care to remember as arousal simmers under your skin and in your stomach. If two of his fingers are almost too much… you're not sure how you're going to take Simon like he's trying to prepare you for.

Vaguely, you're aware of Ghost's presence in the room, even if you can't see him. It's heavy, all encompassing, and you can feel his gaze burning into your skin without even looking at him. He's been quiet the entire time, save for directing Soap occasionally.

"Go ahead, give him a third finger," Ghost says, voice unchanging as if he's not affected by this at all. But you've seen the way he looks at you, even when you're fully clothed.

Soap obeys the command, slowly slipping a third finger into you as you gasp and grip tighter onto the pillow under your chest. Unconsciously, your legs spread a bit wider, trying to accommodate the larger intrusion. Soap chuckles darkly into your ear, his breath ghosting across it, making you shiver under him and whine. He shifts down slightly and bites at your shoulder, sucking softly in between scrapes of his teeth. The pain of him putting his own mark on you, has you clenching around his fingers as he thrusts them deeper and crooks them down to press against your g-spot.

"Yer actin' like a hoore, spreadin' yer legs like this for me," Soap whispers into your ear, and you squirm, the pain from the mark he put on your shoulder throbbing dully as you shift. "What would the others think? Hmm? If they saw their pretty little medic sprawled out on a bed for us to ravage you."

"S-Soap, please," You whimper, trying not to give in to the onslaught of pleasure as Soap presses against your g-spot and nearly forces you to grind your t-dick onto the soft sheets.

"Call me Johnny, 'kay m'eudail," He nearly purrs into your ear. You're not even sure what you're begging for. You don't know if you're asking him to stop, or to give you more. But you're already feeling too close to your first orgasm of the night.

"J-Johnny pl-pleeeease," You continue, your hips jerking slightly. You can't even tell if you're trying to get away from his fingers, or to push against them more.

Ghost chuckles from where he sits in the dimly lit room. It's a dark sound. A dangerous sound. And it has fear tingling down your spine. You clench on Johnny's fingers again. "Poor slag doesn't even know what he's begging for. I think he's ready to take your cock, Johnny."

"Ya hear that? Si says you're ready, what do you think?"

"Y-Yeh- nngh, y-yes please." You moan, trailing off into a whimper as Soap slowly pulls his fingers out of you.

Soap sits back and watches with amusement as you clench around nothing, whimpering and begging to be filled again.

"You sure you weren't made to take cock, hen?" Soap asks, and hot shame rushes through you at the feminine term. But it just makes you more aroused as you continue to whine.

"Pl-Please, Johnny," You beg and you hear Ghost hum.

"Don't torture him, he's been so good for us so far," Ghost says and Johnny huffs.

"I can't have a little fun with him?" He retorts, only for you to hear him begin to unbuckle his belt and yank down his pants and underwear just enough to free his hard cock.

You glance back at him, staying in the position he put you in. You're wanting to be good for him. Be good for them both. After all, you've taken care of them on more than one occasion. Patching up knife or bullet wounds. They just want to take care of you in return. At least, that's what you remember them telling you when they caged you between them and kissed you until you were breathless.

Another whine escapes your lips when Johnny grabs his cock and strokes up to the tip where a clear bead of precum forms. You want him inside you so badly, so you wiggle your hips, making him just smirk. Thankfully, he doesn't tease you any more as he shifts closer to you again, draping himself over your smaller form, and lining his cock up to your hole.

"Ready, m'eudail?" He asks and you nod quickly, overly excited to feel the drag of him against your walls. "I need words, pretty thing."

"Y-yes please, yes, 'm ready," You rush out, warranting a chuckle from both of the men watching you at your eagerness.

You gasp as you feel Soap's tip press against your hole. He uses his other hand to pull you open just a bit further before pushing his tip into you. The stretch doesn't hurt like you thought it would. Instead, it's just pleasurable as Soap slips inside you, groaning once he's seated fully inside.

"Ffffuck," Soap groans, hand gripping your hip tightly, while the other holds him up over you. "Grippin' me so tightly, ah- hah, I'd think you've never done this before."

You have, but it's been too long… much too long since you felt someone filling you up like this. You've thought about it, fantasized about this moment when you pleasured yourself on lonely nights. But you haven't had anything inside you for too long.

Soap's grip on your hip turns bruising as he begins to pull himself back out. The drag feels so good, as you can clearly feel his skin against yours inside of you without the barrier of a condom. Once he's left just the tip inside you, he slams his hips forward. His skin slapping against yours as you cry out in time with the headboard of the bed hitting the wall. Soon after that, he picks up a brutal pace with his hips, slamming into yours. The continual thrusting against your walls has tears falling from your eyes before you know it. You futilely try to muffle your cries and moans into the pillow you're holding onto for dear life at this point. But even it can't muffle you enough. Ghost hears every sound you make from where he sits, and he just watches, until Soap's thrust slows down.

"Ah, shit, almost forgot," He mutters and pulls out of you, leaving you to whine and clench on nothing again.

You vaguely hear him digging around in one of the medicine cabinets, and a pill bottle pop open. However, before you can process it, Soap is behind you again, slipping into your used hole as he wraps his left arm around your chest and yanks you up against him. Your back arches as you moan and cry, and Soap shoves two of his fingers in your mouth. Your eyes widen when you feel a pill of some kind at the back of your throat, the smooth capsule not telling you what drug he's forcing you to take. You have to swallow around his fingers, unable to fight against his strong grip. You rest your head back against his shoulder after you've swallowed the pill and whimper.

"C'mon, take it like a man," Soap mutters into your ear as shame runs through your body again. His tight grip around your chest holds you back against him as he starts to thrust inside you again.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, a thin strand of saliva connecting them to your lip, until it breaks. Some of it drips down your chest as the hand that just forced you to take a pill drifts down and circles around your tiny cock. You can't help the cry of pleasure that leaves you as Soap begins to jerk you off in time with his harsh thrusts up into you. The bite of the cold belt buckle against your outer thigh makes you shudder as you have nothing to grab onto other than Soap's arms, caging you in. Vaguely, in the fog of your mind, you remember that they set up a safe word with you, but you can't bring it in yourself to use it. It feels too good, how Soap's cock is drilling into you mercilessly. Lost in the daze, you don't hear the door to the infirmary open, and someone frozen in the doorway.

But Soap and Ghost do.

"Oh, h-hey, Konig, ngh," Soap groans, and that makes you whip your head over to the door in shock.

The giant of an Austrian man is frozen, ducking under the doorway. His eyes are wide under the mask, and you find yourself mirroring his expression until Soap tightens his grip on your t-dick. A whimper catches in your throat as your eyes screw shut and you throw your head back against Soap's shoulder again.

"You want a t-turn?" Soap eventually groans out, and you whimper at the thought.

You've gotten close to Konig over the weeks KorTac has been stationed here. And you can't deny that you're attracted to him. But you have no idea how or even if you'll be able to take his cock if both Soap and Ghost have been hyping up the size of Ghost's cock. Konig has to be bigger than that, just due to the sheer size of him.

"Either come in or leave, we don't need someone else walking in on our poor medic moaning like a slag for us," Ghost says, and that breaks Konig out of whatever trance he was in.

Konig slowly steps into the infirmary and closes the door behind him. He slides the lock shut too, and when he turns back around, you catch his eyes, and there's something dark in them now. What shock was there is gone entirely, and only replaced with something dangerous. Something lustful.

"What a predicament you're in, maus," Konig purrs as he walks over to stand next to the bed you're in. His large hand gently cards through your hair, as his eyes take over your naked form, and linger where you're being split open by Soap. "Seems like you're caught in the cat's trap."

Konig's hand slowly drifts down your body, gentle touches leaving goosebumps in their wake. He stops just above your t-dick, and Soap removes his hand to let Konig take over. His hands are rough and calloused as they gently touch your t-dick, almost hesitant, like he'll break you. When you moan softly at his touch, he gets bolder, and begins to harshly rub over you in circles, drawing louder moans and whimpers out of you as Soap begins to thrust inside you slowly again. You didn't even know he had stopped, or when. Once Konig has had enough of playing with your little cock, his hand slips lower, his index and middle finger splitting and touching on either side of Soap's cock thrusting inside you. Soap groans softly into your ear at the touch, and Konig chuckles darkly.

"He's already split so wide, do you really think he can take me?" Konig asks no one in particular, voice deeper, darker than usual. You've only heard him take on a similar tone when he's trying to intimidate a hostage. It has fear tingling down your spine again, and Soap groans as you clamp down on him.

You begin to feel hot, slowly sweating more as you feel like the pill Soap gave you is finally taking effect. You feel impossibly close to cumming, and when Konig inquisitively dips the tip of one of his fingers inside you alongside Soap's cock, you can't help the cry you let out as you see white. Soap curses as you clamp down on him impossibly tight as you cum, and feels himself get close as your walls flutter around him as you try to come down from your first of probably many highs tonight.

As you come down from your orgasm, you whimper at feeling Soap pull out of you and groan. He grabs the base of his cock and squeezes, trying to will away the urge to cum as Ghost chuckles at him.

"Close already, Sergeant?" Ghost asks as Konig is the one to catch you and help you lay down on the bed again.

As your skin gets warmer, and the arousal simmering in your body doesn't seem to wane any, you begin to realize what pill Soap gave you. He managed to find one of the experimental aphrodisiacs you were given as the resident medic. They were originally made to ease pain, but were quickly shown to not do what they were intended to. Instead, they turned the person who took them into a perfect breeding machine, for lack of a better term. Despite you feeling exhausted already, you can feel yourself leaking more than you ever have in your life, and you want nothing more than to be filled. Stuffed full with cock and cum.

"Steamin' Jesus, he grips yer cock like a vice. You try tae last wit em," Soap snaps back, and you hear Ghost stand as Soap shuffles off the bed, yanking his clothes back up when he's standing again.

With your head turned towards Konig, you see him sit down on the bed next to the one you're in. His eyes never leave your body as he seems to just be taking you in fully. You can definitely see a sizable tent in his pants. And it's safe to say you've never seen one that big before. You whine softly, and reach out to him. His eyes soften slightly as he grabs your hand gently, wrapping his fingers around it. It helps relax you, until you feel the bed dip with Ghost's weight.

"That aphrodisiac is doing a number on you, love," Ghost murmurs in your ear as he hovers over you. "You're makin' a mess all over the bed."

You whimper, clenching on nothing as more slick drips out of you. Ghost nods to Konig, and the much larger man leans closer to you, gently squeezing your hand, before his free one ghosts over your hole. You moan softly.

"Pl-Please Konig," You whine, and he doesn't hesitate any longer, unable to resist the sweet way you whine his name. He slips two of his large fingers inside you, and your hole gives way to him easily.

You moan and cry as Konig begins to fuck you with his fingers while Ghost pulls down his clothing just enough to free his cock, much like Soap did.

"Be a good slag for me, love," Ghost purrs, and the mix of praise and degradation has your head reeling. Your thoughts are beginning to get foggy from the aphrodisiac continuing to take over your entire being, slowly consuming you. Turning you into nothing but a crying, begging mess for the three men around you.

You gasp and whimper in pain when Konig pulls his fingers out and Ghost begins to replace it with his cock. The stretch stings slightly, the aphrodisiac not quite taking enough effect to make you stretchier yet. Ghost gently shushes you, holding you like you might break until he's finally seated fully inside you. He's not much longer than Soap, but he's definitely much thicker, and it feels like too much. But the aphrodisiac in your system is screaming that it's not enough.

When you glance over at Konig, you see him sucking on the fingers he just had inside you, and his pupils are blown wide. When he removes his finger he curses. "Scheiße, you should taste him. That aphrodisiac makes him taste so sweet," Konig groans, and you whine as Ghost begins to thrust inside you.

Konig smirks before pushing his two fingers into your mouth and you can't help the loud moan that is muffled around them. You really do taste sweet, almost like ripe peaches, or a peach jelly.

"Have'ta taste him later," Ghost groans from over you. "Feck, you were right, Johnny. He's so tight."

Ghost's thrusts are slow at first, testing you. However, when he sees and hears how much pleasure you're in, he begins to speed up his thrusts inside you. Grunting and groaning each time his hips hit your ass. However, as the aphrodisiac grabs tighter onto your consciousness, even Ghost's cock isn't enough.

"Pl-please, n-ngh, m-more ah! W-want m-more. Pl-please, Johnny~ K-Konig~" You begin to beg, and Soap just chuckles.

"Do ya even know what yer beggin' fer?" Soap asks, heavy boot steps walking over to you, until he's standing in front of Konig. "Do ya want both of our cocks? Hmm?"

You nod frantically, whimpering before you speak again. "Y-yes, yesyesyes, pleeeaaaaassse."

"Verfickt," Konig mumbles to himself at your begging. He's trying so hard to not touch himself, but he can't help but press his palm against his clothed erection. Trying to ease a little bit of the pressure that was beginning to get painful.

"Pick 'em up Si," Soap says and Ghost hums before wrapping his arms around you, and turning you both.

Ghost ends up laying on his back, with you on top of him, and he looks at Soap expectantly. "Think this'll be easier," He says and Soap nods.

Soap just yanks his clothes back down again, quickly climbing onto the bed and settling himself between your spread legs. Simon has one strong arm wrapped around your chest, while the other grabs at your thigh. It forces you to keep your legs spread as Soap teases at your already stretched hole with his fingers.

"Sure he can even take it?" Soap asks and Ghost hums.

"Try your fingers first. The aphrodisiac should make him open up easier, and without pain," Ghost says and Soap nods.

He slips one finger inside you easily alongside Ghost's cock. It causes you to moan as Ghost groans in your ear. Your thighs twitch, trying to close. Idly, you think you'd never be able to take this much if you weren't under the influence. Soap slips in a second finger alongside the first just as easily, and he hums. It seems that's all the proof he needed.

He pulls his fingers out again, sucking on one with a moan before offering the second to Ghost. Ghost also groans at the taste, panting when Soap pulls his finger away. He groans against your shoulder.

"Fuck you taste so good," he mumbles before biting your shoulder, the opposite side of where Soap put his mark on you.

He quickly puts a dark mark on your skin as Soap grabs his cock and lines up with your already stretched hole. You can't help but moan and cry as Soap begins to slip inside. Your walls stretch and give way easily, the extra lubricant you're producing easing the slide of Soap's cock inside you. Now it feels like too much as you begin to squirm, trying to wiggle away from the pleasure just from the stretch. Neither have even started moving yet, and you're already crying.

When Soap finally slots his cock all the way inside you, you cry out as you cum again, clamping down on both of them. It punches a deep groan out from both Soap and Ghost as you squeeze them again. Each time, it feels impossibly tight despite the easy give of your gummy walls. You reach out blindly to try and ground yourself on something, anything. Konig grabs your hand again, and gently squeezes as you come down from the high. Your other hand grabs at Soap's shoulder, digging your blunt nails into his skin as he slowly begins to thrust into you.

"T-too muuuch," You cry out and Ghost just chuckles at you. It sounds mean.

"You were begging for this, little thing. You better take it," Ghost growls into your ear before he begins to thrust up into you too.

Soon, Soap and Ghost fall into an easy rhythm with their thrusts. As one pulls out, the other pushes in, never leaving you empty. You're crying again quickly, unable to handle the intense pleasure of both of them dragging against your slick walls. Oversensitive, but arousal never waning, you cum again, and again as Ghost and Soap fuck into you. Soap is the first time begin groaning louder, his thrusts losing their consistency as he gets close.

"F-Feck, g-gonna fill ya up, m'eudail," He groans, and only takes a few more thrusts for him to slam as deep into you as he can with a low groan. He cums deep inside you, coating your walls and Ghost's cock. It's enough that it spills out of you, dripping down onto Ghost who chuckles again in that same mean way.

"Couldn't even last, Johnny. Look at you, you made a mess," Ghost says and you whimper, twitching and shaking as he holds you against his chest. Soap just smiles and chuckles, breathless.

"I fucked 'em longer than ya," Soap snaps back, cursing as he slowly pulls his oversensitive cock out of you.

You whine at the loss, but with a few clenches, you're soon tight around Ghost again, and he groans. It caught him off guard how quickly you readjusted to his size again. Especially since you went from something much larger, to much smaller.

"B-bloody 'ell," Ghost groans against your skin, and he can't help the stuttering, aborted thrusts up inside you.

Konig chuckles this time, taking Soap's place on the bed as he steps back and collapses in the chair Ghost started in.

"Seems like you're close too, Lieutenant," Konig teases, looking past you to meet the other masked man's eyes.

"Sh-shut it, KorTac," Ghost snaps back, beginning to thrust into you in earnest again. His thrusts are rough, harsh, and almost desperate as he chases his high inside your sloppy, wet hole.

Soon enough, Ghost shoves his cock as deep as he can inside you and cums with a deep groan against your heated skin. You cum with him, vision whiting out again as you twitch and convulse. He cums as much as Soap did, until it leaks out of you and back onto him. It seems the aphrodisiac had an effect on them too, causing them to cum much more than usual. It's too much, and the aphrodisiac seems to be waning slightly, but you still want more. You still want Konig.

When Ghost pulls out, he slowly slips out from under you, grumbling at the mess in his lap as Soap laughs at him. But you can't focus on that with how Konig is hovering over you now. He slowly lifts his mask and leans down to kiss you. You moan against his lips, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders. You feel weak, and your legs are trembling terribly. But with how gently Konig kisses you, like you're something precious he gets to have, it only serves to make you want him more. You whine as you clench around nothing, pushing more of the cum inside you out onto the bed. You're a complete mess, and your hole is red and puffy from the abuse. Yet you still beg Konig when he pulls away from the kiss.

"Pl-please Konig," You whine, out of breath and voice scratchy from overuse. "W-want you to f-fuck me."

"Okay, okay, I will, maus," He says softly, smiling down at you through the mask.

He works off his clothes enough to free his huge cock, and you twitch, whining from oversensitivity when it lays heavy and hot on your t-dick. He grabs his cock and slowly pulls back, teasing the tip against your hole. You moan softly, fatigue seeping into your bones.

"That's it," Konig soothes gently as he begins to slowly push inside of you. You gasp, feeling like the air is punched out of your lungs at just the sheer size of him. "Such a good boy. You're taking me so well, maus."

Your blunt nails dig into Konig's clothed shoulders as he continues to push himself inside of you. With each added inch, you know you'd never be able to take him like this fully without the influence of the aphrodisiac. But you don't find yourself minding that. If you have to take it again to do this again, you would. When he's finally, finally, sheathed inside you fully, he nearly collapses on top of you, moaning into your ear. It feels like he's in your stomach, no, in your chest with how impossibly deep he is.

"Sch-Scheiße, m-maus," He groans into your ear. "N-never been able t-to be fully inside l-like this. F-feels so good."

He can't help it when he adjusts to hold himself up with one arm, the other hand resting against your stomach. He feels how his cock bulges your stomach slightly. He nearly chokes on a moan as he begins to move, and feels the bulge of his cock move up and down your stomach with it. He can't believe this, but he's so glad for the aphrodisiac, since that's the reason he can do this. Soon enough, he can't hold back, and he begins to pound into you.

You hold onto him for dear life as the bed creaks and groans its protest under both of you. The headboard keeps hitting the wall. But none of you can find it in you to care right now, even if Price will have your ass in the morning. Konig is holding onto you in a similar way as he fucks into you with wreckless abandon. He's so lost in you, you, you that he can't think of anything else other than the way you clamp down on him when you cum, and how he finally gets to feel what it's like to be fully inside someone. Because he denied himself earlier, he gets close too fast for his taste, but he doesn't want to stop.

He cums inside you with a moan of your name into your ear. You feel his cum filling you up for the final time, the heat of it making you feel pleasantly warm as you finally relax your tense muscles and collapse against the bed.

You whimper half heartedly when Konig slowly pulls out of you. He whines with oversensitivity, but watches in awe as you clench on nothing, pushing his cum out to mix with the other twos on the bed. You feel boneless, unable to move even an inch as you pant, trying desperately to catch your breath. As the aphrodisiac wanes, a soreness settles into your muscles and your core that has you whimpering in pain. You don't know who cleans you up, but it was probably all three of them with gentle hands as they do their best to help you relax and come down from everything.

"Havta use bathroom," You slur, and one of them picks you up, easily carrying you to the bathroom in the infirmary and setting you down to do your business. Whoever carried you stands next to you as you lean against them for support. With how large they are against you, it's probably Konig, but it could be Ghost as well.

You're so tired, and you're already asleep by the time you're tucked into a clean bed with clean clothes on. The three look over you for the night, getting you anything you ask of them when you wake up. They're so attentive and doting, it makes you cry. And they take turns holding you in order to comfort you. You've never felt this loved before.

The next morning, when you can barely even walk without grimacing, you hear Price yelling at the three of them in his office when you're trying to make it to the kitchen for tea. You can't help but giggle to yourself, knowing that they'd do it again in a heartbeat. As would you.

[hypercodation]

GURL- I-

Self Aware au König pt 2

Pt 1 here

Tw: None 😋👐 well besides swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆~°♡°~☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your heart was beating in your throat.

Who the fuck is this?

He had you against the wall while his arms crowned you in.

He had the same sniper hood as König.

He said he was König.

Honestly, you believed him. What are the chances that a 6'10, sniper hood, austrian man saying he was König, wasn't König?

He slowly got closer to you which had your heart beat even faster.

You had to be dreaming.

He moved one of his arms that helped corner you in as he lifted his sniper hood, revealing a scar on his lip as the same lip touched yours.

He needed this.

He wanted this.

He had waited so long

Too long.

He pulled back silently, his thumb rubbing your cheek slightly before going down to your neck as he kissed you again.

You felt like you were going to pass out any moment.

"I've wanted this for so long, schatz."

Schatz.

The words leaving his lips sounded better in person than in any fanfiction you read.

"Look at me." His tone lowered slightly as his grip on the crook of your neck tightened slightly.

Your eyes had drifted to his chest as you looked back up at his eyes.

"I missed you."

@silverefflux

Comment if you want to be in a tag list :)

[hypercodation]

Self Aware AU

sypnosis: Just an au where Ghost is self aware that he is in a video game. The silly little idea popped in my head after zoning out while playing cod 😿 is this childish and should be deleted later? maybe and probably will be 😿

tw: none?? well besides murder but it's ghost so it's to be expected

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☆~°♡°~☆~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

♡ He likes looking at you.

♡ It started when you played the story mode for the first time that he realized none of it was real. It took him a while to cope with that fact.

♡ After that, he just took it as a chance to look at your face.

♡ He likes it when you favorite him while you're waiting on that multiplayer match to start so that way he can stare at you. Looking at you while you're on your phone is one of those moments where he wishes he were real.

♡ Loves it when you play as him. You're good and rarely get him killed. He understands your off games however. He tends to say his voicelines a lot more just to hear you comment on it. He will repeat one's that you like.

♡ Gets frustrated in the DMZ when you get frustrated. Mayyyy even somehow glitch the game to lower your countdown on the gun you lost.

♡ Hates it when you play another character. How is he supposed to see you and hear your voice if you're playing as some bot.

♡ he just adores you. wants to hear and see you. Everything feels like a repeat now that he realizes he isn't real but that's ok because you make it better

♡ He likes it when you take your anger out on the game, it makes him feel like he can help you somewhat without having to be there physically.

♡ After a while of having you play and him only being able to watch, he'd grow impatient. He was never one for touch and he probably won't ever be but what he would do just to touch your face once.

♡ also he 100% gets pissed off with campers and tampers with that person's game but that's besides the point

♡ He tries not to break character whenever you ramble on about him to one of your friends who shares the same thoughts. how is he supposed to react when you're talking about his ass like that?? 😿

part 2 here!: Self Aware AU part 2

You can find König's version here!: Self Aware AU König

[hypercodation]

Trials of Change

Ghost overhears Soap and a couple of recruits complaining about him and decides maybe he does need to be fixed.

Ghost had never been happier honestly. Really. He and Soap had been dating for… two months, four days and, he checked the time, six glorious hours. 

Maybe that happiness made him blind. Foolish or even just stuipd. 

Ghost slipped into the room where the other people were. It wasn’t on purpose that he was undetectable. His natural state of being was… well… Ghost. 

So he heard the conversation.

Price hummed. “How’s it going with him?”

Soap smiled. “Oh, he’s great.”

“Is he planning on wearing the mask less?” 

Ghost internally winced. He understood Price was just asking out of concern. Price was one of the first people to understand that Ghost and Simon were both different people and the exact same. 

Soap shrugged. “Don’t know. I wish he would.” 

Ghost knew that was true so he didn’t mind it, but he decided to wait a second and not announce his presence. He just sat back to listen. 

“Thank God.” One of the rookies piped up. Ghost tensed and glared at them, though they couldn’t feel it unfortunately. “Tired of him walking around all scary. We were all hoping he’d get better when you guys started dating.” 

Ghost didn’t understand.

Better? What did they mean better? He was happier. Wasn’t that enough?

Soap looked rueful. “Yeah. I’d like that too. He spooks me sometimes.” 

Ghost felt his heart just drop. He was sure if he strained he could hear the sound of it snapping. Ice shards being sent off everywhere. After a moment, he decided to stay where he was. Safe and sound. 

As everyone seemed to list off his transgressions. 

Did they know he was there and deciding to mess with him? It was right up Soap’s alley, but the rookies usually feared him enough to stay quiet. He doubted they would pick up on what was going on fast enough. 

“Please make him wear something with color.”

Soap shrugged. “His closet is nothing but black.”

“Tell him to put something besides his music on.”

Soap rebutted that one too. “He hates my music and you guys don’t get a vote.” 

Then the complaints came a bit faster. 

“Make him actually talk to people.” 

“And stop hiding in his room. It’s a bit creepy at this point.”

“Also why can’t he ever make friends on base?”

“Anger issues. He’s constantly getting pissed for no reason.”

“Please make him take off the mask.” 

“And stop staring.” 

“And also please stop letting him out at night.”

“Why are you breaking curfew to see him out at night?” Soap remarked, crossing his arms. The recruits cringed and quickly found something interesting in the room to stare at. That’s when Ghost made his escape. 

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew people wanted him to change. Always something off putting. It had been like that since he started wearing long sleeves at all time to hide bruises and sleeping through class because his dad kept him awake all night. 

But this was new. Did Soap want him to change?

Of course he did. 

“Better” 

What did better mean?

Soap had been asking him questions lately. Simple things. How was your day? How are you feeling? What do you feel like doing? And Ghost would answer honestly. The bad days had definitely decreased. Ghost enjoyed being around the 141 more. He thought he had been talking more. Just to the 141, Alex, Farah, Alejandro and Rodolfo, but really who else did he need? They all saw him as he was and he thought that was enough. 

Apparently not. 

Apparently that was not better.

Well, he had a list of things that he could be better at now. Ghost felt stupid. A silly teen trying to keep their boyfriend around. 

For a moment, he thought of forgetting this conversation happened. Of taking what Soap would give him and waiting to be abandoned when Soap realized that Ghost was incapable of being what he wanted. But already, he knew this would poison everything. Anytime Soap put his scarf around Ghost because he ran so much colder than his angry Scott or when he asked him to take his mask off when they were alone or every time he introduced him to someone new, he’d wonder if it was somehow a way to change him. 

Could he just break up with him? It was the smartest and easiest thing. Shove Soap out of his life and stay exactly where he is. But that meant not having Soap. No more late night tea trips with someone by his side. He’d no longer be there to put hickeys on his neck that he’d grumble about and then secretly like. All the jokes and stolen clothes and the touch. He had forgotten how nice it was to have someone touch him. To put his head on someone’s chest (he hated weight on him because it reminded him of the dirt from the coffin) and hear their heartbeat. Nice and steady and sweet. 

Fuck, Ghost couldn’t give that up. He’d also never be able to drink enough of it in to get his fill. So he’d have to be… better. 

Maybe he could start small. It was silly, but color was probably the easiest. Wear something besides black. 

He didn’t own anything not black. 

Fucking hell. 

Ghost took a deep breath. Maybe he could start with… music? When did they even play music? During exfil occasionally if Nik was driving? But he didn’t have a mission with Soap for the next few weeks so he could see it regardless. 

Anger issues? Yeah, Ghost had them but he didn’t think he ever blew up for no reason. Maybe his reactions were occasionally over the top, but he never hit anyone. Never hit objects near them to show he could either. His last meltdown was months ago and he had, with shockingly no protest but still with a very hurt pride, apologized to the person.

Goddamnit, he just needed a starting place. That’s all. So color it fucking was. 

Ghost went to Gaz, hesitant and nervous, but he was the only person he could really ask about this without it being suspicious since he wasn’t there. 

“Hey, Garrick.”

Gaz looked up from what he was reading. “Riley!” He liked that about Gaz. When he had first referred to him as Kyle, Gaz had called him Simon. If he used his rank, Gaz responded with his rank. Ghost had learned to stick to last name or callsign with him. They felt more like equals than most of the other people on base. 

“Can you help me with something?”

Gaz sat up. “A mission?”

“Where can I get… clothing?”

Gaz paused. “You… The Ghost… want me to help you with shopping?”

Ghost nodded awkwardly. “Yeah… Can we go… shopping?”

Gaz slowly stood up. “Why?”

“I’m going to try changing my style.”

“Why?” 

“Just… want to try something… different?”

Gaz frowned and Simon remembered why he didn’t usually go to Gaz for assistance. They could see straight through him. Every time. “You want to try something… different? Why? You’ve never changed in the years I’ve known you.”

Ghost just shrugged awkwardly. 

“Alright. Let’s go.” Gaz stood up and pulled his shoes on. “What are you searching for?”

“Something with… color?” 

Gaz frowned but obliged. He couldn’t bring Ghost to a mall, worried the people would get him worked up. So instead, he brought him to a strip of stores and picked the most abandoned one. Gaz didn’t really do much, having a feeling he was more playing moral support for whatever breakdown this was. It wasn’t… completely uncommon for Ghost to get the urge to do things. Almost like a mania. However it was never something as simple as this. 

He gave Ghost’s a thumbs up when the man grabbed a blue hoodie. Dark blue, so still in theme. Then he grabbed a camo green and ruby red. Nothing but hoodies. 

“You going to stick with your normal dark color scheme?” It was a genuine question from Gaz, who was worried about him. Also, depending the answer, it would be easier to help him find things. 

Ghost wondered if this was… different enough. “Can you pick something that… isn’t?”

Gaz tilted his head and looked around. He found a polo shirt in a softer green color. “Do you want to try it on before buying it? Make sure you’re comfortable.”

Ghost bounced between his feet, debating. “Yeah.” He found a dressing room and slowly slipped off his black hoodie. The mirror was there. His arm tattoos covered the scars there, but he still felt nervous. 

Now his shirt. 

Just… take off the shirt. 

Take it off. 

Ghost pulled it over his head in a rush but he still caught himself in the stupid mirror. 

Ugly scarring. 

Did Soap not like those? Ghost had tried things to make them fade. Balms and creams and keeping them clean. They were still there. Dark, thick lines. Giant pieces of flesh that were marred for one reason or another. 

What if Soap hated those too? Ghost certainly did. It’s why he stayed covered up. 

He pulled the new shirt on and didn’t look at himself. The fabric was… fine. Not the best, but fine. The color looked weird against his pale skin. 

This was stupid. Again, the feeling of being a teen girl appeared. Was this childish? Of course it was. 

He bought the clothing anyway, even though it made his skin crawl. 

Gaz smiled at him once they were back in the car. “I’m proud of you.”

Ghost nodded. “Thanks, Gaz.”

“No problem, Ghost.”

Ghost grabbed food and hid in his room to eat. He perched on his desk. 

Soap arrived moments later and smiled, sitting on Ghost’s desk chair so they were right next to each other. “Hey, haven’t seen you today.”

“Went out.”

“You went out? By yourself?” Soap sounded so shocked. 

Ghost shrugged. “I had Gaz with me.”

“That’s nice! I’m glad you’re doing that.” Soap smiled at him. “Have fun?”

Ghost thought about it. Honestly, when he wasn’t focused on what they were doing, it wasn’t too bad. Hanging out with Gaz, even if they didn’t really talk much, was pretty fun. 

“Get anything?”

“More hoodies since you keep stealing mine.”

Soap smiled. “Hell yeah. It’s not my fault you have better taste in hoodies. They’re always so soft and big and smell like you.”

“They’re big because they’re meant to fit me.”

Soap leaned up and kissed his cheek. After having to deal with the people at the store, Soap’s presence was honestly a bit of a balm to his frayed nerves. 

Until he thought of why he had gone out. 

“Are you content with me?”

Soap paused, looking a bit confused. “Simon, I’m happy with you. Why do you ask?”

“Nothing. Just wondering.”

Johnny hummed. “Take your mask off for me.”

Simon did. He wanted to be what Johnny expected. To change how he was supposed to. Callused fingers ran over his cheekbones. Touching his jaw. 

“Beautiful.”

Wrong. 

“Did something happen?” Soap was too perceptive. 

“No.” 

Soap frowned and leaned up, kissing him more. “Alright. Ye won’t talk to me. I won’t push ya.” He cupped his face. “Just talk to me when you’re ready then.” 

Ghost frowned. “Nothing wrong. But I will if anything comes up.”

Soap smiled. “All I ask.” 

The next time they were in the car, Ghost put on some pop music. It wasn’t what he’d normally listen to. It was just a random list of the top 100 hits. Soap noticed and looked at him oddly. “Where’s your normal rock music?” 

Ghost normally made a radio each time they were going to do something together. All of it heavy rock music or metalcore. That was… bad though. Price called it his angry mix and he was trying to not do that. Not to be like that.

Be different. 

“Wanted to change it up?” It came out too much like a question. 

Soap frowned. He liked all types of music just fine, but Ghost didn’t. Ghost was predictable. Ghost only “Changed it up” when on leave when he listened to classical music. A fact only Soap got to know.

“You’re acting different.”  

Ghost shrugged and focused on driving. The other guys seemed on edge now Something was clearly off about him now. It made everyone nervous. 

It was exacerbated when Ghost wore colors at the next taskforce meeting. Even Gaz, who had been there when he bought it, looked very uncomfortable when he wore a soft shade of red hoodie and medical mask instead of his balaclava. They all kept glancing over and… looking confused. 

Ghost looked at Soap. He ignored that his skin prickled at the attention and the change. That the fabric was itchy against his skin. Or that being so exposed made him want to die right there. None of that quite mattered as much as Soap’s expression. He didn’t look pleased at all. No excitement that Ghost tried to be different. Just… a strange look. 

Ghost felt sick. He felt nauseous. 

Soap cornered him after the meeting and took him to his bedroom. 

Ghost felt like a kid, just sitting on his bed as Soap stared at him. 

“I was just trying to be what you wanted.” Simon admitted, yanking the hoodie off. “I heard you and the recruits complaining about me. I just… wanted you to like me.”

Johnny paused and softened. “Simon. I’m sorry. I was letting them complain because you’re their boss. Which I shouldn’t have. Gotta so caught up in you being Ghost, my Lt, I let them disrespect Simon, my boyfriend.” He sank down, getting on his knees in front of him. “All of this… Making yourself so uncomfortable and forcing yourself to change… You tried to do for me?”

Ghost winced. “It’s pathetic. I know. Just…”

Johnny laughed and pulled the medical mask down to kiss him. “Mo chroí. It’s not pathetic. I’m so sorry. If I had known, I would’ve cleared it up for you.” He kissed him a few more times. “I love your angry music and your dark clothing and the fact you only casually show your face to me. And I wouldn’t change you for the world.”

Simon relaxed a little. “Keep going.”

Johnny laughed. “Alright. I like that you’re mean to recruits because you want them to toughen up. You don’t listen when anyone suggests anything because you know you’re going to ignore it and I find it fun. Especially because you listen to me. I like that you’re a little pretentious about your music and that I get to wear your black hoodies. That you have two pairs of pants and that’s all you wear. On leave, I love that you wear a ton of rings. That you’re grouchy in the mornings even though you get up at 5 am when working. I love you, Simon.”

Simon pulled them back so they were laying in bed and Soap continued without a beat. “I love that you wake up at 2 am and make you tea and me a cup of coffee. Love that you sneak into my room all the time and that you steal the blankets. I-”

Simon kissed him. “Alright. You can stop now. I get it.”

“I can keep going. Anytime you want me to.” Johnny promised. “Also, I tore into them later. I wanted you to know. Made fun of all of them.”

Simon laughed and relaxed more into the bed, feeling Johnny pepper kisses on him. “Love you too.”