Why. Why Must You Do This To Me?

Alive / Part VII

Word count: 399

Soap wasn't lying when he said his mum could cook. Ghost was glad he had something else than the horrible food from chow hall and MREs. Molly had made a hearty stew with carrots, potatoes and pork (Idk about real scottish stews so this is how my German grandma makes them). Now he and Soap were sitting in the bedroom in a comfortable silence. "'M gonna shower.", Soap announced, trying to pull off his shirt, but wincing. "Need help?", Ghost eyed him. Before Soap could answer, he got up and carefully got the shirt off without hurting him. Once it was, he couldn't help but stare a bit. He'd seen Soap shirtless, and naked, countless times, but this was different than neonlit communal showers. "Like what yer seeing?", Soap grinned. Ghost rolled his eyes. "Quiet". He looked at the bandage. "I'll change that when you're done. Don't use all the hot water" While Soap was in the shower, Ghost slowly started putting away his clothes, then stepping outside on the balcony. He had a beautiful view on the area, the sun starting to set and casting golden light on the fields. "I love sunsets", Soap appeared next to him, towel hanging low on his waist. Ghost subtly eyed the dip on his waist and the two prominent veins running along his v line. "Yea, they're beautiful". He cleared his throat. "Now let me take a look at that", he carefully peeled off the water proof bandaid off, exposing the still open wound. "It's healing nicely", he commented, setting Soap down on the bed and taking out gauze and a bandage from his bag. "Hold still", he gently began wrapping it around his shoulder. "Being gentle for me, huh?", Soap teased. "For you always, Johnny", Ghost flicked his ear playfully. After he finished wrapping up the shoulder, he helped Soap into his shirt and went showering himself. When he stepped inside the bedroom, Soap was sprawled on the bed, scrolling through his phone. "Yer beautiful, lt", he grinned. Ghost flipped him off before settling down on the bed. "Shut up". Soap scooted over a bit. "Make me" Ghost shot a warning glare towards him. "Don't tempt me, Johnny. You'll bite off more than you can chew" Soap snickered. "Oh I promise you I have enough space in my mouth". Ghost let out a groan. "Go to sleep, sargeant." "Yes sir"

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.

part two here! / part three 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. 🫶

Guys. What do you think think abt some fanart? I'd love to draw some, but I'm not sure it is what ya'll would like.

Would ya'll like to read some Gaz and Price as well? I honestly don't know too much about them but I'd love to write something for them. Same thing for Ale, Rudi, König and Horangi.

The sharpest lives :)

I'm not sorry

A ppart five of love potion where Soap is forced to watch Simon "serve" Roba?

That is so horrendous and terrible, anon I will literally kiss you on the lips from how much I love this

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Ghost knew that Soap and Roach were up to something. Whatever it was, it didn’t involve him as far as he could tell. He was tired. So tired. He hadn’t been able to sleep in a while. 

That’s why he fell asleep while with his Lady. She had been riding him and he had stepped away from himself like always. As long as she enjoyed herself, that was the important part. Who cared if he drifted away as long as his body stayed… interested?

Ghost felt the sting of the slap. She started to curse in her language and jumped off of him. 

He went to get up, to apologize and take his leave to giver her space, but she shoved him hard on to the bed.

“Stay right there. I have told Roba that running you ragged ruins you. Your performance is pathetic.” She sounded so angry but there was a tinge of concern. Pilar was always the nicer of them and he dimly hoped that maybe this was one of the rare times she stuck up for him. “Stay here for the day. Sleep.” 

Ghost swallowed. “Thank you.”

Pilar scoffed, but she softened just a little. Ghost felt his heart do something funny. It wasn’t like with Soap or Roach. It felt less like his heart fluttered and more that someone ripped into his chest and squeezed his heart. 

“I said sleep.”

Ghost smiled slightly but his eyes drifted close. After a week of nothing, it was too easy. 

Pilar put her head on his chest as they laid together. 

Roba came back from his time away and, despite how nice Pilar was about it, she still had him whipped. He had Ghost kneel down on the floor. “Shame I can’t do this in front of everyone. Your appearance is just too different though. Even if I cut off those fucking ears, they’ll still be able to tell.”

Roba kissed the whip before striking his back. Ghost closed his eyes as pain lanced through that mark. Blood dripped as his skin just tore. 

“You still haven’t found that thing in the woods.” He hit him again, the leather going straight through Ghost. Ghost forced himself to make a small pained sound. If he was quiet, Roba would try to hit him harder or would escalate it. Better to give him what he wants. 

“There ya go, sweetheart. Remember this next time you fail, yeah?” He hit him again. And again. 

Ghost made a noise every so often, but honestly? The pain wasn’t much anymore. Blood spilled and he knew he’d start to feel light headed soon. 

He loved them. 

He loved Roba so much. 

Sometimes, it hurt that they were so much nicer to each other than him. 

When was the last time he had felt… loved?

Ghost let out a sob in to the otherwise silent room and there was a pause. Roba let the leather of the whip trail against his open wounds. “Oh, sweetheart.” 

No. 

No, no, no,no, no,no,noooo,no.

“Poor thing. Stay on your knees.” Roba patted his face. “Feeling lonely lately? Surrounded by us vile humans? Unable to even talk about yourself? Must be terrible.” 

Ghost glared up at him. He hadn’t felt so alone recently. Honestly. Things had become easier with Johnny and Roach. 

A knock. 

It was so loud. 

Roba looked displeased as he crossed the room to the door. He opened it slightly and looked inside. “MacTavish.” 

“Hello, sir. I haven’t been able to find Ghost. We’re supposed to go out tonight to hunt for the creature.” 

Roba looked back at Ghost before glancing at MacTavish. “Can you keep a secret?”

“I… I can, sir.” 

“Come in.”

Ghost felt himself deflate. No… No… 

Soap walked in and he could hear how his heart picked up. 

“My prized possession.” Roba spoke softly. “He’s freshly punished, so he won’t have his usual wit about him. It’s how I prefer him honestly.” He yanked him back by his hair. “Would you like a lesson over elves?”

“I know how to kill them. I feel that’s enough.” Soap sounded nervous.

Roba hummed. “Their mouths are sharp. Not just their teeth, even the flesh of their tongue. It’s textured. Not the best for oral, which is a real disappointment.” He shoved his fingers into Ghost’s mouth, holding his head. “A masochist might like it. You a masochist?”

“No, sir.”

“Shame.” Roba backhanded Ghost who let out a soft groan. He spit up a mix of blood and saliva at his Lord’s feet. “Might finally have a use for that mouth.” He grabbed Ghost’s chin and held him tight. “Guess not. But trust me, they have plenty of other uses.”

Soap walked around him, trying to look at Ghost’s face he assumed. He wished he wouldn’t. This was humiliating enough. Truly. “That so, sir?” His voice was tight as he stared down at him. 

“Sir, please. This is unnecessary. I can put my gear on and go back out.” Ghost swallowed. “I’ll find it this time.” 

Roba stared at him before yanking him around but his hair. “Did i ask elf? No. I didn’t. One day I’ll cut that tongue of yours out. You barely speak anyway.” He glanced at Soap and then Pilar. 

Ghost looked at him, blood still dripping from all the broken skin. 

Roba put him on the bed, all gentle like. Lovers. Even prepped him. Trying to put on a show for his captive audience no doubt. 

Ghost pleaded to him quietly to please dismiss Soap first. He was his superior. This was awful. Please, do anything else just don’t do this. Let him have a little dignity. 

Roba put his hand around his throat. “Shut. Up.”

Ghost buried his face in the bed and tried to be silent. To disappear and never ever be seen again.

Soap swallowed so loudly he could hear it over Roba’s grunting. “Can i?..” 

“Yes.”

Ghost felt fingers card through his hair. So gentle and sweet. 

“Simon. A little effort, yeah?”

Ghost shivered and made fake whimpers into the bedding. He looked at Soap and they accidentally made eye contact. It was so intense. 

Soap let out a breath. Pity. 

Ghost wanted to cry. He instead glared at Soap before burying his face back into the sheets as he serviced Roba. His hips rocked back and he tried His best to speed this process up. 

Soap ran his fingers along his cheek and Ghost bit him, sinking his teeth into the kind flesh that wished to be nice to him. Soap didn’t pull away, instead letting him keep his teeth into him. 

“Barely even sentient. A step above an animal.” Roba smiled. “You’re not allowed to touch him like this. But you can watch. You’re clearly enjoying it.”

Ghost looked up to see Soap was, in fact, fucking hard. From his humiliation. Humans were awful. 

They were cruel. 

And fucking sadists. 

“You can get off.”

“No, thank you, sir.” Soap wouldn’t look at Ghost’s eyes now. 

Roba continued to fuck him until he finished. He pulled out and fixed his pants. “Simon. Get up and get clean. Then put on your armor and find that fucking monster.” He slapped his ass hard and Ghost wasn’t sure he could get anymore red. 

Pilar and Roba left and it was quiet for a while before Soap started moving. He cleaned up the wounds on his back silently. “Im sorry… i didn’t… i didn’t mean.”

“Shut up. You got off on it didn’t you?”

“No! Its not like that! I sweat just…”

“You find it sexually attractive. Me being fucking degrading.”

Soap winced. “No. Sorry i didn’t mean to react to it, just… you’re attractive but i swear its not… i don’t…”

Ghost stood up, feeling such an intense pain everywhere. His back. His fucking… He grabbed the bed to keep himself steady. “Just give me my fucking clothes.”

Soap handed them to him. “I really… I’m sorry.”

“Shut up. Let’s just fucking go.”

If you're still up for some drabble ideas, I was thinking of Horangi falling in love with his neighbor's foreign bestie (reader). He just got back from an assignment, and he meets a foreigner at his apartment back in South Korea. He's smitten the moment he talks to them and is elated that they're staying at his neighbor's place for their time there.

If it's too wild of an idea or if it's not your type of style, then you could just ignore this.

A nice leave

Note: Hey there, anon! First off, thank you for being my first ever request. And sorry it took so long, I honestly just didn't know where to start with this one. I'm only going to make it a short drabble to see how ya'll like it, should you do, I'll write more : ) Also, I don't speak Korean, so I had to use google translate, sorry if it's cringe to read. Word count: 289 Trope: Fluff, gender neutral reader

The mission was a full success. Everything went smoothly, and Horangi got away with only some small bruises and cuts. He was placed on leave for two weeks, and went back to his apartment in South Korea to relax a bit. He could hear his bed call him when he stood in the lift of his apartment building, the duffel bag over his shoulder heavy. When he stepped out, he saw you. Standing in front of the door next to his, big smile on your face. He looked twice. You were beautiful. "안녕하세요. 제가 도와드릴까요 (Hey there, can I help you?"). "What?", you turned around, smile still there, albeit slightly confused "Sorry, I don't speak Korean". "Ah, ok. Can I help you?", he asked again, this time in English. "Oh, I'm just waiting for my friend, but I think they're asleep", you chuckled. A grin spread on his tired face. You had a nice smile. "Are you going to stay longer?", he had a slight hope in his voice. You nodded happily. "Yup! Two weeks, to be exact" It made a warmth flow through him, even though he tried to suppress it. He thought about saying something, maybe invite you over for a drink or something. But before he could, the door opened and your friend, very sleepy and ruffled hair, appeared in the doorway. "Sorry", they mumbled. "Oh, no problem (friends name)". You grinned at Horangi, and the familiar flutter came back. "I'm (name), by the way" you extended your hand. "I'm Kim", he shook your hand, but you dissapeared in your friends room before he could say anything.

He was definetely going to sleep well.

Hello my worms, I wanted to inform ya'll that I am actually still alive. Yes, I too am surprised. Sorry for not updating in such a long time. I promise I have a valid reason. A few days after my last post I met someone, and it wasn't my probation officer. (just kidding, I am a law abiding citizen) At a workshop in my school I met a very hot guy and we started talking. Long story short, he's my boyfriend now. He's more than I could have ever wished for, and for the first time in a veeery long time, I'm actually happy. I realized that all those fanfics and stuff were an unhealthy coping mechanism (not saying fanfiction is bad, but the way I interacted with it was), and I doubt I will continue writing fanfics for now. Especially since he is pretty much a fanfiction come true. Please imagine a 6'0 blonde guy that has arms like I have legs. His uniform ain't helping. Please forgive my rambling lol

Hi! Im a new writer to Tumblr, I write about Call of Duty (CoD), My Hero Academia (MHA) and more! I take requests, I am older than 18, and I take requests, even NSFW! I look forward to being part of the Tumblr Community so please be nice! If you have any requests, I take them!