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villainofmyownstory · 5 months ago

Text

Three copies and some signatures

Simon/Reader/(Johnny)

I don't know I don't have an idea for a title, so I wrote anything. I know some people are waiting for the next part of Day Zero, I'm slowly writing the next chapter but need more time, but don't worry I didn't abandon it! I was motivated to write this thing by anon's shitty ask to @/rememberwren about “too many fics about Ghoap” lmao . So I also wrote something about Ghoap. Because WHY NOT? Aaaaand if you don't know Wren's wonderful work leave everything and go and read it -> HERE <3

I would like to write the next parts, but I can't promise anything.

tags: angst, hurt no comfort

don't know how to tag :< let me know what to add

______________________________________________________________

Of course it had to end this way.

It was more than certain that you would end up in this place eventually. With sweaty hands and a heart that was beating too fast and heavy. Your heart rate increased and your breathing quickened. Drops of sweat appeared every now and then on your heated forehead and you tried again and again to wipe them off. To dry your shiny skin at least for a while. At least look a little presentable.

The crumpled white shirt no longer looked like the one you had ironed for over an hour. Now crumpled and stained, it carelessly hugged your curvy body.

The chair creaked with your every move. Nervously every now and then you change positions as if at least the comfort of sitting would improve your situation.

More minutes pass and the door in front of you is still closed. The paint on them is coming off in some places, revealing the banal light-colored plywood. The entire anturage of this building cries out for renovation.

Despite the well-paid work of the people who work here, the base looks as if its glory years are long behind it and there are no funds to even refresh the walls. It's as if for at least 20 years no one has noticed the cracked walls, the paint falling off or the crooked fine wooden chairs.

Maybe it's just appearances.

You shift in your seat again. The creak of the wooden chair echoes through the empty and cold corridor. Despite the early hour of the day and the sun outside the windows, everything inside seems harsh and unfriendly. To your relief there are not many windows so the prevailing semi-darkness makes you feel marginally more at ease. At least a little anonymity. Maybe the small number of people who passed you walking through the corridor with a quick step won't remember you and when you leave these walls after all, no one will ever shout after you on the street. They won't associate you with this place. With him.

Only when that happens. When this hell will finally come to an end. How long will it be when you are free again? Because every doorbell ringing, every unfamiliar number on screen or finally an unfamiliar customer at work looking at you for too long. It won't all cause that nervousness, that cursed lump in your throat and more gray hairs on your head. Every fucking minute spent in fear.

Someone will finally find out.

Reasons.

Everyone has some. Everyone has a story, some problems, something that makes them look for solutions. The question is whether it was worth it to risk so much. Whether committing a crime was worth it to choose to live here. To continue living in this country.

To be alive.

In the distance you can hear someone's conversation, laughter interspersed with words. Empty corridors carry sounds that ring in your ears, but everything blends into an incomprehensible cacophony of sounds. Into one piece.

You know that resounding, hearty laughter well.

You have heard it many times.

The melody, once heard, is forever imprinted in your memory.

Rhythmically approaching footsteps, voices are getting louder. Two people.

They are close.

The danger makes you feel trapped. Like an injured prey caught in a trap on a hunt.

You nervously look around looking for any way to escape. However, the only way to get out of this place is through this damn corridor, the direction from which you hear the approaching voices.

Panic grips your body and mind, many thoughts appear one second not allowing you to focus and remain rational.

He is about to be right here.

As you involuntarily bite your lower lip and try not to sob, the door finally opens.

A tall and muscular man stands in the doorway, illuminated by the light from the room, like a knight on a white horse with a friendly and affable smile. He greets you and says your name. His name.

Finally, he invites you inside. This time you managed to escape.

Captain Price. This much you know crossing the threshold of this room. In the morning when two sad gentlemen knocked on your door. You expected to be handcuffed, or something else entirely. Something you were being prepared for. It could always happen. KIA.

And now, sitting in a more comfortable chair than the ones in the corridor, you look at his Captain. A person you knew a lot about, as well as the entire Task Force 141.

After all, you are a good student. You diligently applied yourself to your lessons. You memorized every word.

Every truth and every prepared lie.

Your made-up life.

The captain leans back in his chair still looking at you, despite the stress of the situation a calmness beats from the man.

You expected accusations, shouting, nervousness and humiliation.

Nothing of the sort happens.

“It's good to finally meet you.”

He says, tilting his head gently to the side and grinning at you.

“When Laswell called me and informed me of the situation. Well. It was quite a shock to me. A positive one. But still... it's quite surprising.”

He doesn't finish the sentence because his words are interrupted by a rhythmic and loud knocking.

Damn.

***

Several hours have passed since those events at the base. Despite the fact that there are a few hours left until nightfall, you decide to spend the night in a nearby hotel and return on the next day, in the early morning.

You didn't even wait for the two gentlemen who brought you here.

You rent a car and return on your own.

You borrowed cash from the captain. The meeting at the base was supposed to be a secret, between you and him. No sign of your presence near the base. You couldn't use your credit card.

Another fucking lie in your life.

Or maybe everything else was untrue and what was happening now was reality. The truth you couldn't quite believe.

It wasn't just the frayed nerves of the situation that made you not want to drive today.

There was something else.

Today is Thursday. A day when when he had the opportunity, he called. He was close by, at a nearby training ground with recruiters. So you can certainly expect weekly contact.

The very thought turns your stomach. It was so ridiculous, infantile.

Unnecessary.

When 9pm strikes, as usual, evenly, punctually the familiar ringtone echoes.

You wait.

One-

Two-

Three.

“Hi”

You sit upright on the edge of the hotel bed, squeezing your thighs tightly together. You straighten your back unnaturally pulling your shoulder blades as close together as possible.

Finally, you hear his low voice.

“Hi love”

Love? Huh, that's something new.

“Hi”

You repeat the greeting in a trembling voice. Does he already know about your unannounced visit to the base. Does he know that his captain has finally found out. What if-

“I miss you, so bad.”

At these words you close your eyes.

There's nothing to worry about. A standard fake conversation between two spouses. In case of eavesdropping, in any doubt. At the risk of someone continuing to check up on you.

“I miss you, too.”

you answer with a learned line. As you do every time.

“I'm counting down the days until I see you again, love”.

You hate it. You hate hearing his words. You shiver. Swallowing the incoming tears.

You're unable to utter another theatrical phrase.

When a lie repeated so many times has become the truth for you. When pretending became a natural behavior. How it happened, that something inside you changed.

So pathetic, weak creature.

For the first time, you can't follow the script.

“ 'r you still there?”

The question hangs in the void. It reaches your ears. Further learned words, however, are blocked inside you.

You open your eyes and your gaze drifts to the floor, to the hotel's dirty carpet. Seconds pass slowly. Each moment makes you feel more and more miserable. You want to throw up.

“I miss you so much, Simon.”

Shit, you're such an idiot.

You quickly hang up, throwing the phone in the sheets and running to the bathroom.

Falling in love wasn't part of the contract.

***

He shouldn't smoke.

He quit exactly when he met you. That September night.

Now, standing behind one of the barracks leaning against a cold wall, he looks up at the same sky. Looking for what you were looking for then.

The sky is dark and cloudy.

“LT?”

He is pulled from his musings by a whisper. Such a familiar voice.

“Where are ya? Come back here, I'll freeze my balls off, if- ”

“I'm comin' , Johnny.”

Crushing the cigarette butt under his military boot, Ghost takes one last look at the sky.

No star. That night he sees none. There's nothing special.

As he enters the room, the small light of the nightstand illuminates the familiar room. When the door slams behind him, in this safe space, he pulls off his mask and walks over to the bed.

Shaking slightly, Johnny sits down on his bed, rubbing his bare shoulders in an effort to warm himself.

“You quit smokin'. ”

A dry statement, Johnny says the words and looks reproachfully at the man standing over him.

Ghost smirks, reaching out his hand to smooth the sergeant's messy hair. Like a tame wild animal. To calm him down. Meticulously styled mohawk was forgotten an hour or two ago.

His hand travels lower to finally stop on the man's jaw and with little force Ghost squeezes his chin, raising it to look him in the eye.

“Behave, Johnny boy.”

“Or what?”

With a cocky grin Johnny asks. He lifts one hand and sticks his fingers in the belt loop of his pants, pulling Ghost closer, so that he's standing between Johnny's legs.

“I don't think you're ready for a second round.”

Finally Ghost pulls away and heads toward the bathroom.

Johnny grunts back.

“I saw her today.”

Ghost stops in mid-step. He stiffens, but doesn't turn toward the man who already regrets his words. There's no going back.

“I want to finally meet her.”

Saying this, he gets up and walks closer. He puts his hand on Ghost's shoulder trying to calm him down. He knows it's too much. Not after what he heard during their weekly conversation.

But a life of lies was destroying him from the inside. He could feel the rot. The stinking evil he felt at every turn. While waking up and falling asleep. It was constantly accompanying him.

No one deserved such cruelty. If he even had to pay for it with his happiness. He would agree without a second thought.

It had gone too far.

“I want to meet your wife, Simon. She needs to know the truth. About all this.”

About us.

______________________________________________________________

English is not my first language, so probably many things are poorly described and the vocabulary is very simple. If you see any mistakes - let me know!

#ghoap x reader #simon “ghost” riley #johnny soap mactavish #3CSS

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