#kyle garrick mw2

[ghouljams]

Was talking in the tags about Gaz with aches and pains and I was reminded that athletic tape is a thing and just.... Gaz taping his shoulder when it starts aching, something he doesn't let anyone know about save for Price. No reason to get medical involved when he can patch himself up just fine. Besides he doesn't want anyone trying to get him out of the line of duty. It's really just from holding position for long stretches. He doesn't know how Ghost manages to sit for days watching a target down a rifle scope, hours of it set his muscles on fire. But he doesn't want to seem weak, it's hard enough being Price's golden boy, people are already looking for weaknesses to pick at. So he does it all himself.

Except he always has trouble taping one stretch on his back and it's not something he can ask for help with from anyone. Except maybe you. He shows up at your door and hustles you back into your room with a few quick glances around the barracks hall. You sarcastically invite him in and he just tosses you a roll of athletic tape, strips his shirt off and turns his back to you. It's not exactly an order, he hasn't asked anything, but you can see where the tape should fit against his carefully laid web, so you tear a piece off the roll and lay it over his skin. Maybe you take a moment to smooth it out and check the rest of his work, not feeling the firm muscles of his back or admiring how well built he is.

It's a short moment before his tee is back over his head and he's plucking the tape from your hand, kissing you cheek with a, "let's keep this between us, eh love?" and you don't know how to respond to that. When did you become "love"? Why did he kiss you? Is that where you are with him? Can you barge into his room now? You feel Gaz brush past you, hear your door open and close, hear him whistling down the hall. Should you be reading into this? You're not going to read into this, or you might explode.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Rule Breaker

Content warning - Degrading, little prep, ass spanking, orgasm denial, hair pulling, mean Gaz, top Gaz, bottom reader, brat reader

Summary - You’re facing the consequences for your actions…

“Bet you just loved their attention.” Gaz spat, his brown eyes filled with such venom that your knees went weak.

Or they would have if he didn’t have you bent over his lap, another stinging slap on your ass, “12…” you barely managed out the number. Your mind had turned into putty at seven and you could feel it trying to leak out of your ears now. You knew you had pushed it too far this time the moment he just gave you that pretty smile of his instead of glowering or clenching his fist. It was a game that you played, not often but you enjoyed every moment of it. Even now with your thighs and ass burning from each harsh hand print you could feel your arousal coursing through your veins.

“13.” You bit your lip to keep from moaning this time. Another new rule, no moaning from the slaps along with no wiggling.

“Such a dirty whore.” He spat, delivering another harsh slap to your ass. You just had to make it to 15, one more. Just one more and he would pin you down and fuck you.

“15.”

He pulled off your pants the rest of the way, tossing you onto the bed with ease that never failed to surprise you. He clicked his tongue as he examined the obvious arousal you had gotten, muttering about how much of a slut you were for flirting with that person. You didn’t even remember their name or their eyes, just remembered that sardonic smile on Gaz’s face. He dug his fingers into your scalp while using his other hand to prop up your ass. He tugged his rock hard cock from his pants, he reached around and stuck his fingers into your mouth, “Suck.”

You swirled your tongue around his two digits, savoring the taste of his skin, the feel of his calloused finger pads. Barely containing your urge to rub your thighs together in anticipation. He pulled out his fingers from your mouth and without warning shoved both fingers into your hole.

“Kyle-“ You moaned, instantly melting despite the slight sting of such a stretch immediately. He didn’t speak, merely growled low in his throat before he began to move them in and out. His knuckles slamming against your skin as you bit down on the sheets to keep from cumming right then and there. Not like he would have stopped even if you did.

Gaz scissored his fingers, trying to stretch you just enough so it didn’t cause any actual damage. No, he would never cause bleeding, he was already silently planning the aftercare you would be receiving after this. He snapped his full attention back to you before he wandered off topic too far.

Pulling out his fingers, he spat on hand before spreading it over his length and couldn’t help the low groan from escaping his lips. Slowly, he pushed into your hole, his hand gripping your hip. “Gonna fuck you like a whore, since that’s what you want to be so bad.” He growled as he bottomed out into you fully as you nodded. Agreeing with him that you were a whore, a slut but it didn’t matter because you were his.

Gaz held nothing back as he began thrusting and a high pitched whine left your throat, you almost felt embarrassed before your brain shut out everything but the way his cock felt inside you. Your moans mixed with his low groans and huffing as his skin slapped against yours. Your fingers dug into the mattress, drool leaking from your mouth as you felt that wonderful tightening sensation within yourself. “Kyle, please.” You begged.

“Please what?” He snapped, slapping your ass harshly as you whined.

“I wanna cum. Can I cum? Please Kyle. Please.” You begged, the words falling quickly from your mouth as you tried to get permission before it was too late.

“No.”

You whined, felt the tears nearly start. “I’m sorry.” You said, trying everything to delay your release. “Please.” His answer remained the same but you couldn’t stop yourself. You couldn’t stop the pleasure from washing over you as he kept ramming into you at the brutal pace you adored so much.

He sneered as he gripped your hair and pulled you up so your back pressed against his chest, “If you’re gonna break the rules, you might as well do it again.”

[dream0fschism]

your facetime headcanons oh MY GOSH THEY doing things to me

can you plssss make a longer one for gaz that would make my day xxx

hmmm... i'll do you a little mix of sfw and nsfw, how's that sound? :*

Facetime with Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

- would most likely talk shit about his least favourite on the force. (it would probably be ghost because he's intimidating)

- tells you how much he misses you at least three times per call.

- talks to you about where he's going to take you when he's next home. you'd suggest making it an occasion, going out for dinner - he was just on about ordering Chinese or something... but alright.

- whatever you fancy, babe. i just want you anyway.

- would definitely piss about with you trying out weird filters and those stupid little co-op games on Instagram call. (he'd find the filters hilarious, cause he's a bit silly like that)

- he'd most likely call you when he can't sleep, needing the sound of your voice to lull him into slumber. you never fail to knock him out in minutes.

and when he's horny on facetime...

- he'd probably start off by saying something cliché, like, "so what are you wearing right now?" and would laugh at himself shyly afterwards, a little embarrassed.

- he'd slowly palm at himself whilst murmuring quiet requests for you to remove different articles of clothing, keeping the camera on his face out of modesty.

- "fuck me, love. you're actual perfection, you know?"

- "i wanna rag you all over that fuckin room."

- "just wait until i'm back."

- likes you to suck on a dildo, lather your spit all over it as sloppily as possible. drives him crazy to pretend it's his own cock in your mouth.

- tells you to fuck yourself with it for him, to get on your knees with your ass to the camera and spread your legs wide for his cock.

- when he's close, makes you beg for his cum as if he were really there.

- as he cums he stifles his loud, violent moans badly. they usually stagger out of him between fits of heaving breaths and pants as he focuses completely on the silicone pumping in and out of your hole.

- tells you to keep going, to cum around his cock as you tip over the edge yourself.

- would say something like, "same time tomorrow, then?" followed by a cheeky giggle.

[simonsomeriley]

gaz and his competitive girlfriend playing video games together...

imagine playing mario kart with him, how competitive he gets with it

he convinces you to choose the hardest difficulty and the most difficult routes, oblivious to how much you'd practiced

you always choose princess peach as your character, to go hand in hand with yours, you make him play as mario every time

him raging and screaming into a pillow after 15 minutes🥰

you don't know how long you've been sitting there at this point, your feet going numb from pressing under your butt, determined to get at least another win in

there's a half full popcorn bowl in the middle of the both of you, the game quickly becoming too competitive and needing to focus more than eating

the way his brows furrow and he avoids blinking, focusing all he has on the movement of his fingers on the controller

you're sweating at this point, already having played rainbow road for what felt like the 700th time, your thumbs feeling like they're ignited and on fire

you get the most wins in. you win over him by 2 wins. he. is. PISSED

his competitive spirit comes alive during video games and it's insane

[bingoboingobongo]

guys why aren't we talking about alejandro telling gaz he always keeps an eye on the gringos and then telling him he'll teach him curse words in spanish

[yoshidatommy]

TF141 (oversimplified)

[bigguyenthusiast]

COD P★ LINKS

Yawll……dis is horny… so like fair warning

John price

Price tying you up after he catches you disobeying him by touching yourself :(

Overstimulation with John <3

Price eating you out after a loooooong mission

More price eating pussy (the guy LITERALLY looks like him or am I tripping)

Since you like using them so much, this shouldn’t be a punishment for you, correct ?

John getting you to ride his thigh

Theres a reason why they’re his favourite

Kyle Garrick

Gaz after ruthlessly fucking you for three hours ;3

What you get for flaunting yourself in front of his mates :(

Lazy night in with gaz

Shhh don’t want anyone to hear you

Late night humping with your clingy boyfriend

Roommate! Gaz getting tired of your horny whining

Simon Riley

Just a quick reminder of where you belong

Quick polishing’

A goodbye gift

A welcome home gift

Roommate! Ghost pounding you till you wake up :(

Owner! Ghost with his lil pup

Little film for later

Gettin’ crafty

John McTavish

Riding him until he’s dumb <3

Mornin sex with Johnny boy

Self restrain

Virgin! Johnny

Just his doll

Convincing your friend, Johnny to join your live 🫣

König

Hes just too big you needed a photo for confirmation

Need your colonel to reach you a lesson?

Just a quickie before he leaves for work

Quickie part 2

Good girls beg

[yooo-lets-go]

soap simp folder THIS, soap simp folder THAT, the question IS: does Ghost take photos??

He does

[rhymewithrachel]

:(

(Orig)

[v1x3n]

[ghouljams]

your post about Gaz's chronic pain reminds me about my spouse and our friends who are military veterans and the kind of chronic pain they all cope with. Like if the military is good at anything it's good at creating disabilities. My spouse has chronic back pain from falling off jets on multiple different occasions, I can only imagine what kind of pain poor Gaz deals with falling from Helicopters and stuff.

Honestly I'd be more shocked if they all didn't have some sort of injury they've learned to cope with. Like Soap being partially deaf in one ear because of an explosion he messed up on. Or Ghost dealing with shooting nerve pain because a particularly nasty scar got pulled wrong while he was stretching or moving too quickly.

-Hot mess rambler Anon

Yes yes yes yes yes 141 with Chronic injuries they're lying about to medical staff.

Gaz absolutely has joint pain from falling out of a helo. You can't tell me that hanging from that rope didn't fuck up his back a little. Didn't give him an inner ear problem that makes him nauseous at high altitudes. He absolutely is hurting when there's bit pressure changes, downing a few aspirin at breakfast just to cope with the day's exercises. Strikes me as a very "suffer in silence" sort of soldier. Maybe complains to Soap about his back hurting.

Soap definitely has a good ear, caught too many explosions in the side of the head to have everything fully functional. It's not bad enough to take him out of the line of duty so he doesn't say anything. Price makes sure to stand on his good side when he gives orders. The 141 learns BSL and excuses it as field practical. I think he has some nerve damage in his fingers from shocking himself, snipping himself on wires, just the wear and tear of working in demo. It's not anything he needs to report except when he gets a tremor and swears at his hand until it stops.

Ghost catches the worst of it. Definitely nerve damage, the kind that makes it hard to move on bad days, that sort of twinges on good days. He's got a menagerie of chronic injuries. Joint pain, muscle pain, scar tissue in his lung, sticky ribs. But it's the mental wounds that are worse: he can't stand flashing lights, has nonverbal episodes, is bad in crowds. Other things too, I think he has a nervous stomach, I think he has texture issues and certain smells that trigger him. He can't break his routine or he- He just can't break his routine, it's very important that he doesn't break his routine.

Price too has injuries. His knees aren't what they used to be, his smoking is starting to catch up to him, some days he's thankful for desk work. He's dislocated his shoulder too many times and sometimes it sticks wrong and he gets pain for hours. Very grit your teeth and bear it for himself, but if any of his boys complain he puts them on bed rest. Similar to Soap I think he has some hearing loss, bombs and bullets will do that to you. You'll never catch him in medical, not unless he's dragged there barely conscious.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Yes Gaz is getting a second one. He’s my favorite and no one can stop me FOR I HOLD THE PEN AND PAPER FOOLS.

Anyways, if you voted on the last one you’ll know that everyone on this list is getting one Drabble anyways, this’ll just decide the order.

[perpetual-fng]

gaz.

[cobaltbeam]

Broke: having König instead of Gaz in the 141

Woke: König and Gaz are both there and become besties

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction to You Being A Virgin

Warnings: 18+, Implications of Smut, Corruption Kink, Purity Kink, Innocence Kink, Ownership Kink, Age Gap, Implied Slight Yandere Graves Inexperience, Objectification, Dominant MW2, Soft MW2, Gaz is anxious :-( but trying his best, MW2 Trying To Be Smooth, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Ghost

The fact that you, innocent, are his to love and corrupt sends white-hot anticipation between his legs.

He’s imagined what you’d be like in bed: how you’d take him, the sounds you’d make. Of course he has – practically everyone on Base has.

But now, his fantasies are tinged with something feral. A primal need to show you that he is the best choice for you (even if he doesn’t believe it himself) – the only one strong enough and skilled enough to be yours and to make you his.

He’s fantasised about you looking up at him with doe eyes while he pins your wrists to the mattress, voice meek as you tell him, as if it’s a secret, that you’ve “Never done this before…”

He can’t live without it. The fact that he can – will – be your first time. Satisfy you in ways nobody else will ever be able to compete with.

He’d never admit it, but a dark part of him has plagued him with ideas of ravaging and corrupting you, about making your first time so pleasurable and carnal that nobody will ever be able to satisfy you as he can.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” he tells you, taking your chin between his fingers. He lowers his lips to your ear. You don’t see the dark gleam in his eye. Don’t see the deliciously dark idea cross his mind – the impulse to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to feel anything, nevermind pain. And he makes a promise to you anyway.

“I’ll take care of you.”

König

“Thought as much.” König’s words are blunt yet sharp.

“Seeing as you have everyone wrapped around your finger, it’s clear you have no regard for the way you conduct yourself.”

You may construe König’s words as mean. Derogatory, even. He means it as a compliment. Even if you don’t know it yet.

“You think I don’t see the way you flaunt yourself in front of the soldiers – thinking that you’ll be able to get away with it without consequence.”

König’s frame towers over you. His gaze is ice, and any trace of the socially anxious soldier you knew is gone.

“I wonder how you like it.” he muses aloud. His voice is tinged with something unreadable. Venomous.

“How you’ll take it. Rough, gentle…” His eyes narrow.

“Mean.”

He’s boxed you in with his stature alone.

“Makes no difference to me,” he tells you. Deceptively calm. And then, an offer. One you can’t refuse.

“I’ll fuck you every which way until I find what makes you scream the loudest.”

Soap

“Oh, really?” he says, eyebrow quirked and a hidden smile teasing his lips.

Johnny really couldn’t care less that you’ve never had sex before. But, the fact that you shared this information with him – albeit after he steered the conversation towards more…intimate topics – gave him hope that you were hinting towards something.

Something that Johnny’s wanted since he realised he was massively, whorishly down bad for you.

From his position opposite you, against the kitchen counter, he takes a step forward.

“I suppose you’re not very experienced then, are you?”

He advances until he’s in front of you. A wolf and a lamb. Close enough that you can smell his cologne.

His eyes are piercing, but there is a softness behind them. Something that writhes and wants and needs.

His hands come to rest upon the counter behind you. Nowhere for you to run. The heat from his body is scorching.

“Though, I’d be more than happy to…” His voice husks. “Beef up your résumé.”

Valeria

Corruption kink to the MAX

Valeria is a territorial, dominant woman – that much is easy to see.

And the fact that you haven’t had anyone else before her just does something to her.

Alters her brain chemistry permanently.

There’s not one soldier, police officer or government official she doesn’t own in Las Almas.

So why shouldn’t she own you, too?

Now she’s thinking of every conceivable way she’s going to take ownership of you.

She thinks about it so often that she struggles to complete her paperwork without having to disperse the issue before she can continue.

But be warned: there will come a day when satisfying herself just won’t cut it. When she’s going to seek you out and ruin you.

“It might hurt at first, mi Amor,” she tells you, hand stroking your cheek, coming down to your jaw. “But trust me when I say that–”

Her hand grips your jaw. Tight. A viper’s strike. A fire burns in her eyes and the corners of her lips curl up in a cruel smile.

“I’ll make it hurt a whole lot more if you don’t do as I say.”

Price

Given his age, Price has had his fair share of experiences.

But that doesn’t harden him to the simple fact that you haven’t.

In his eyes, there’s something endearing about how you’ve yet to give yourself to another person.

Another person that, he hopes, will someday be him.

The idea makes something in him stir. The fact that the difference between your age and his makes him that much more confident in his ability to please you in ways no mere boy can makes him anxious to act.

“Oh. Is that right, Love?” He says, eyes light and his smile dangerous.

“S’ppose you’re waiting for the right person.” His posture is inviting. Tempting. Belies the rush he’s feeling — the desire to have you at his mercy in the most carnal sense.

“Pretty little thing like you, you could have your fill of men.”

He’s angling for something. His face says it all.

He steps towards you. Again. Again. He’s in front of you.

His chest is almost to yours. His smile is shallow now. Strained. Like his pants.

“Probably looking for someone with experience.”

He thrives on the way your chest flutters. His does, too, but it’s masked beneath a  heavy stare.

“And trust me, Love,” his voice is low. A message for you and you alone as he brings his lips to your ear, breath hot against your skin.

“I’ve got plenty to spare.”

Horangi

You don’t hear it for his mask, but Horangi lets out a shuttered breath.

“That’s why you’re always so quiet when sex talk comes up.”

He says it as a fact, but you take it as a question. You nod.

Horangi’s arms unfurl from his chest, come to rest at his sides. He’s looking at you.

Even through the layers of his mask, his gaze is heavy. Leaden.

He steps towards you. His frame, broad, fills your vision.

You can hear how heavy his breathing has become. How thick the air is.

How much he’s trying to restrain himself.

“How about a deal,” he proposes. Commands.

“You give me something to have a nice, long, hard think about,” his hips are to yours. You feel him pressing against you.

“And I’ll give you something to talk about.”

Alejandro

“You surprise me, mi amor,” he says, natural as anything. As if he already knew.

“I’d have thought someone would have swooped in and claimed you by now.”

Truth be told, Alejandro wanted to be that somebody so badly that it made him ache in places he’d rather not think about. Especially when you’re already making containing himself incredibly difficult with that pouting, wide-eyed, innocent look.

God, you had no idea what you were doing to him.

“Or…are you saving yourself for someone specific?”

Before you, his frame is broad and imposing even without all his military gear on.

He takes your chin between his fingers. Tilts your head so your gaze can’t escape his. A shiver runs up his spine at the sound of your breath stuttering.

His words aren’t rhetorical. He’s pulled the answer from you – seen it in your eyes.

“Or are you just waiting for a man who knows how to take care of you?”

Rodolfo

“O-oh!” Rudy chokes out. His cheeks are already giving way to a telltale pink. He tries to cover it.

“But– you’re so pretty and smart and kind – I thought you’d have a boyfriend by now!”

In some ways, Rudy’s a bit of a traditionalist: his mind still jumps to the idea that you’d typically only be intimate with someone you’re already in a relationship with.

Not that he’d judge you if this were not the case for you.

But he sees his chance. And he takes it.

“Well, if you’re not with anyone, then…would you like to go out sometime? With me?”

His eyes are wide and filled with hope – something you’d never have expected from a  man in such a brutal line of work.

Sex is the last thing on his mind right now: truly, he’s so taken in with the idea that you’re single and available that your sexual status means very little to him.

Though, that isn’t to say he hasn’t thought about you like that before, or that he hasn’t spent many a night with his face smothered with pillows as your name escapes from between his lips, panting, moaning.

That’s a little secret for you to uncover later in your relationship…

Graves

“So you’re tellin’ me that no one’s had the privilege of fuckin’ that pretty little ass of yours?”

Graves sure has a way with words.

For all his slimy business practices, this is the one time he’s genuinely surprised. Unable to be slick.

He puts his game face on. Gives you a half-lidded stare and lowers his voice. His heart hammers: he conceals it behind a cool tone.

“Well, colour me impressed, Angel,” he says. A hand comes to the hem of your shirt, takes it between slow, intentional fingers. He has to resist the urge to look at your chest when he pulls the fabric taut.

“And here I was thinkin’ I already knew everything about you.”

He’s moving in before you can analyse his statement. Before you can begin to understand how badly this man has lusted after you – how deeply entrenched in your life he’s become. And all without you knowing.

He places a hand on the wall behind you. Presses himself closer to you.

“How much to let me be the first,” he drawls. Your eyes widen. His thin smile grows.

“And last.”

Gaz

Bless his little cotton socks, he doesn’t know what to do with both this information and himself.

See, despite being incredibly intelligent, Gaz is still the youngest of the 141, so he’s not entirely accustomed to situations like this.

He can’t tell if you’re hinting, flirting, or just telling him something about yourself.

He remembers what Soap taught him, though.

Should a situation arise where someone is flirting with you, just use your intuition and don’t fuck it up.

Gaz leans against the doorframe, almost misses, scrambles to resume his ideal posture.

“Oh, so we’re more similar than you’d think, then.”

He can feel Soap banging his head against a wall. Jesus, Gaz – at least try to impress (Y/N) !

At your raised eyebrow and your playful “Oh?” Gaz coughs. His voice lowers.

“But…” he steps closer. “Maybe we can un-virgin each other.”

Long story short, Gaz has no idea what he’s talking about. But, somehow, his nervous disposition and pretty boy charm have enamoured you. And you may have told him you’d take him up on his offer 👀.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[criminalamnesia]

Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶