✨Kraken✨

Requests:

Look at Rules for what you can ask fo

Just don’t ask right now

I appreciate the thought but no. Save if it if you want but I will not be answering any. This is until further notice.

Fandoms:

Written for:

Call of Duty: MW2

The Pitt

A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

Descendants

open to writing for:

Resident Evil 7 or 8

Lord of the Rings

The Hobbit

Interview with the Vampire

Ask nicely for any others and I can consider it (depends if I even know what it is….)

Navigation:

If you’re wondering whether I answered your question or not… filter with the #asks tag

If you have a request and are wondering if I'm working on it, check DRAFTS (at the bottom of this post) And no, drafts is not in any particular order

If you want to look at things I've written in the past, check MASTERLIST (at the bottom of this post)

If you want to know what you can ask for, check RULES

Anyways, I'd love to talk to anyone who wants to :)

Anons: 🍄

Masterlist

Drafts

Rules

You’d transferred in almost a year ago now, taking over the intelligence department of the base for a retiring soldier. A younger man than your station would normally be held by, you’d been promoted quickly for fierce intelligence and an uncanny ability to read people. That’s why it had happened, Simon supposed. The lieutenant had stopped to pick up some documents, and you’d come down from your office to hand them over yourself.

You’d stared for a long moment, gaze cutting into Simon like nothing ever before. Then, you’d all but commanded a lieutenant who technically had more command than you to come back to your office the following day. For some reason, entirely unclear to the forces of the universe, Simon, and everything else, the lieutenant had obeyed your orders. When Simon showed up, you smiled, slid a cup of tea across your desk, and said the one damning sentence still burned into the lieutenant’s brain.

“Let’s talk.”

From there, it had spiraled. From meetings to doing your paperwork together, to coffee dates to sharing history, Simon and you became close faster than anyone the lieutenant had ever been friends with. The first time that word had left Simon’s tongue, it had been an iron ball in the lieutenant’s throat, weighing Simon’s tongue down, choking and aching and terrifying. What if you said no? What if you hated the word? What if you only let Simon into your world because you felt pity?

But none of that had happened. Your friendship had blossomed even further. Sometime along the way, several months in, you’d talked about how you were trans, carving your own path to the place you were in now. You’d laid on Simon’s shoulder, flopped out like a sprawled cat as you talked about how isolating it was being queer in the military, how being trans had made people look at you like there was something wrong with you, something foul and disgusting and evil. But you’d still forged your way through, rising to the top and bonding with others isolated for whatever reason. Anyone who was different was your friend, you’d declared. Anyone just like you, just like Simon.

Then it had all clicked. Your words painted Simon’s experience, beat for beat. The isolating ugly wrongness buried in Simon’s chest was exactly what you’d described. The lieutenant had confessed that in your office over lunch and in response, you’d just tilted your head and stared. Calm. Quiet. And unflappably blunt. “So what do you want to do about that, Si?” When Simon stumbled over words, finally having an answer to the missing piece, you’d listened patiently. You’d waited, patient and even as always. You were perfect.

The first time you’d called Simon a girl, the lieutenant nearly cried. Not from hatred. Not from cruelty. But because the missing piece, the hole that had grown so wide. That was the answer to the disconnect. So obvious and yet so hidden that it almost hurt.

Time had moved on though, twirling you two around each other, until you’d finally started dating. Most days were spent in your office, sharing paperwork, sharing lunches, sharing meals. A boy and his girl, living the best life they could. Simon couldn’t transition, exactly, and didn’t feel comfortable telling anyone else, because of Ghost. It was easier to be Ghost with the rest of the base. Ghost was a man. A strong, tough, grizzled soldier. A man who’d seen the worst and walked through hell and came back and went back into hell anyways. Ghost was the military’s. Ghost was the soldier.

Simon was your girl. More often than not now, months into your relationship, you’d spend the night in Simon’s quarters, like you were today. It was one of the rare few days that slid through the calendar where neither of you had anything to do. A day that went like rainwater, sliding through your fingers and never staying long enough to enjoy.

Just now stirring, tucked under your arm, Si could sense that you were already awake and idly laying in bed. When you realized that your girl was waking up, a loose smile slid across your face, and Si could feel your lips pressing across her forehead, morning voice low and husky.

“Mornin’ doll. How’d you sleep?”

Si shifted, slow, languid, easy. It was easier to breathe like this. Less of a crushing weight, wrongness pinning her like a butterfly pretending to be a moth, waiting for people to notice she wasn’t like the others. A slow, sleepy, faint smile crossed her face, matching yours.

“Good. Good, decent at least. Better with you.”

All you did in response was lean down to kiss her forehead again, the smile on your face felt against her skin. You two had clicked, sliding in to complete one another, to fill in the missing pieces and delicacies of each other. You were a boy, and Si was your girl, and that was that.