#roach x gn!reader

All Roach could think about was you and others. Ghost and Roach had cut all contact, knowing Shepherd’s men would canvas the surrounding areas for a couple of days, weeks at most; they managed to find an extremely rundown medium sized shed, one that was hidden by brush and trees. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to shelter the two from the natural elements.

Combining Ghost and Roach’s wilderness survival skills, they were able to scrounge up food when they ran out of MREs. It has to be day six when he begins to think about you again—wondering, hoping you were good they got away.

That leads him to dread another possibility; would Shepherd go after you next? Would he be found, only to be let know you’re rotting in a pool of your own blood somewhere? There’s too much that would be left unsaid between you two, not enough fucking time.

When Roach approached Ghost with his predicament, rapidly signing his thoughts—way too fast for Ghost to understand. “I— wha— alright, slow down, will ya? Can barely understand you.” Ghost says, putting his hands up as if to calm him.

Like anything could calm him; not when he had a nightmare about finding you cold and dead.

Roach takes in a slow breath as he forces his hands to slow down into more concise sentences so the other masked man can understand him. “When will we be out of here, Lieutenant?” Roach signs, watching how Ghost’s eyes track the movements of his hands and fingers. Ghost crosses his arms, his eyes flickering up to Roach’s. “I’m not too sure, I don’t think too much longer. Why?”

Roach signs your name and that’s all it takes for it to register in Ghost’s head, his eyebrows raising above the sunglasses he’s wearing. “Oh, you’re worried about them, are ya?” Ghost hums. “I’m sure they’re fine, we’ll try to contact ‘em tomorrow.” Roach let’s out a huff of relief and lazily signs thank you before he sits down on the wooden floor of the shed next to some of his gear.

Roach doesn’t sleep much that night, ranging from the fact they’re going to attempt to make contact again and the gnawing worry in his stomach; as well as the fact they’re still sleeping in shifts just in case. Roach is awoken by Ghost grabbing his shoulder and shaking him awake, his voice urging for him to wake up. Roach groggily sits up whilst Ghost stupidly tries to tell him what he has to say right off the bat, causing Roach to just stare at him with exhausted eyes.

Ghost lets out a sigh. “Roach.” He utters, waiting for Roach to give him a sign he is processing things. Roach takes a second before nodding, running his fingers through his hair. His helmet and goggles are by his side which Roach grabs before adjusting the tan mask on his face. “I made contact, they’re fine.” Ghost murmurs, making Roach light up, his eyebrows raising. He begins to rapidly sign, making Ghost chuckle. “Calm down, will ya? We’re meeting them 2 klicks north from here, so we can regroup.”

Roach wastes no time, quickly putting on his helmet and goggles, clicking the strap. He adjusts the goggles and the man stands up so quickly, he’s dizzy. “Woah there—“ Ghost grabs his shoulder to steady the man, but Roach quickly begins to gather his things, reorganizing what’s needed in his bag. The excitement and nervousness beneath his skin threatened to burst with every moment, his fingers trembling. Roach knows he needs to feel you under his fingers to properly process you’re genuinely okay.

Ghost packs his stuff as well, and they work together to make it look like no one was in the shed in the first place. They leave the shed with their guns in hand, slowly making their way through the thick forest towards the location. Roach is deep in thought as they begin their journey; are you as relieved as he is? He hopes so, but on the other hand, he doesn’t want you to be so worried over him. Roach keeps reminding himself to sign slowly for you, because he knows the second he sees you, he won’t be able to properly sign. 

His heart is pounding in his chest as Ghost utters that they’re close, that they should be able to spot a vehicle soon. A few more minutes of walking and they hear shuffling of leaves. Roach quickly turns and aims his rifle—it’s you. He nearly drops his rifle, a smile widening under his mask. You’re running towards him which does actually prompt him to drop his rifle—his bootcamp instructors are screaming at him in his head—but he starts running towards you as well. You run right into him, nearly toppling him over with your hug, your arms wrapping tightly around him. Roach’s hands scramble to grab onto your gear, stumbling around as you sniffle, holding onto him.

Warning(s): Flashbacks, fear of losing a loved one on both sides, depictions of violence/blood/etc , i still have no idea how the military works so i apologize for any inaccuracies Word Count: 2124 Masterlist

Pain tears through your shoulder. The bullets send you tumbling back into the wall behind you. You scramble to lift your gun, trying to ignore the searing pain that shoots through your shoulder with the action.  More tear through your unprotected legs. You can feel the impact of more hitting your vest and it knocks the breath from your lungs, your gun clattering to the floor. A final bullet hits your knee and it knocks you to the ground. 

Any attempt to scramble to your feet is halted as something rams into your cheek. Pain shoots through your face and you instinctively reach to cover the area. 

A boot collides with your chest. Sends you sprawling across the floor and you finally meet your enemy’s eyes. His gun hits the ground with a clack. Out of bullets. 

It doesn’t stop him as he moves to straddle you, the knife he pulled out glinting in the full light of the room. Adrenaline pumped through you as you tried to fight him off. 

You can’t count how many times you were cut or stabbed. All that was going through your head was that you were not going to die today. He has the same thing running through his head. One of you would make it out alive. 

You feel the scream tear through your throat before you feel the knife pierce your vest and dig under your right clavicle. 

——

It was late. Or early if you thought about it. The blinking light of a your bedside clock read 0200. It was dark in the room save for the small slivers of moonlight that found its way through the blinds.

Normally, the silence of your home would be comforting. The darkness welcomed.

Not tonight. Tonight, you were running your hands along the wall in a panic as you tried to find the light switch. It was rare for you to have nightmares. Even more rare for you to have one as extreme as the one you did tonight. It’s a miracle all that considering. 

Your heart thrummed in your chest, your breathing ragged as sweat beads at your forehead. You almost cried with relief as the room lit up. Your eyes swept the living room and kitchen. A sigh left your lips as you crashed onto the couch.

Alone. You were alone.

You took a shuddering breath, running your hand over your face as you stared down at your feet. Of course you were alone. You’d been discharged almost a year ago. 

Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to calm your racing heartbeat. It took you a long while to finally calm down, the throbbing in your head and chest finally dulling. 

You laid down on the couch, pulling one of the blankets over your body. Maybe you could get a couple more hours of sleep before you had to get up. You turned the tv on for some background noise before closing your eyes and letting out a deep breath. It was going to be a long night. 

–

Light poured through your curtains, disrupting you from your slumber. You groaned as you rolled onto your side, trying to block out some of the light with your arm in an attempt to fall back asleep. 

You were just on the brink when the sound of your doorbell startled you awake. Who would be ringing your doorbell at this hour? 

You check the time and your shoulders drop in realization. 1200. 

A sigh leaves your mouth as you get up, stretching as you head towards the door. You can make out the shape of someone through the frosted glass, waiting. 

The door clicks as you unlock it, opening it just enough to look the person in the eyes. “Gary?” You ask, mind still foggy from sleep. He wasn’t supposed to be home for another 2 weeks. 

“Surprise,” his voice is quiet and you can tell the smile he’s giving you is a front. You step aside to let him into the home, taking notice of the limp he has as he walks in. You stop him before he goes much farther. 

The door clicks behind you and you pull Roach onto your back. “What happened?” You ask as you tote him to the couch. 

You lay him on his back before sitting on your knees next to the couch. Roach reaches for your hand and you’re more than happy to hold it, tangling your fingers with his. 

For a moment, you just sit there in silence while you wait for Roach to say anything. 

“Took a little fall,” Roach finally says, ignoring the look you gave him. A ‘ little fall’ doesn’t have him home 2 weeks early. 

“May I see?” You hum, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand. You hear him sigh knowing he’s been caught red handed. 

He nods and you push yourself off the ground and take a spot between Roach’s legs. You pull at the waistband of his jeans and he lifts his hips enough for you to pull them down. 

You get his pants halfway down his hips high before you see it. 

The bruise started about halfway down his thigh and goes all the way down to his calf. You hear his hiss as your hand brushes against it and you’re quick to apologize. 

“A little fall?” You repeat, eyeing him as you push his pants off his legs completely. “Where else have you got bruises?”

“All over,” Roach admits with a grumble. You sigh quietly as you reach over to grab the container of cooling cream off of the side table. 

You push his shirt up ever so slightly and he seems to get the memo, sitting up enough for him to take it off and let it fall to the ground with his jeans. 

Purple and blue decorates his chest and arms and it has you grimacing. “Gary,” you mutter, ghosting your hand over his skin. 

Then you notice the bandages. Your eyes shoot to his abdomen where the off white gauze wraps tightly around him. His tummy twitches and you hear his breath hitch. 

You look at him again and you see him deflate. “It was an accident,” he mutters. “I got hit and fell down a flight of steps. Just bruises and well.. that.”

“No broken bones?” You ask and he shakes his head. 

“None.”

Your shoulders relax and you give a second glance over the bruises he’s got. His worst one by far is the one that covers half his left leg. It wraps around the side of his leg about halfway before it ends. It ends just under halfway down his calf. A deep purple color with yellow edges. 

The bruises littering his chest remind you of the bruises you’d gotten on your last mission. “Shot once?”

“Hit once,” Roach clarifies. He knows what you’re thinking. 

You hum in acknowledgment before opening the container of gel and pulling a decent amount onto your fingers. 

Roach shivers as you start applying the gel across his chest. You take care not to press down too hard as to not cause him anymore pain. There’s a comfortable silence as you work, Roach watching your hands move over his skin. 

You lean back when you’re finished with his chest, looking over your work with a satisfied hum. “Let me see your arms.”

Roach shuffles, sitting up to give you better access to his arms. You take note of the hiss he lets out as he leans against the arm of the couch. 

You start applying the gel to the small bruises littering his arms. “How long are you out for?”

“MacTavish said a month. I’ve gotta get checked out before I can go back.”

You nod. He got lucky. “They don’t hurt though,” Roach assures. “The medics got me patched up real good before I was dismissed.”

He smiles as you visibly relax. He leans close to you, nudging your cheek with his nose to get your attention. “I’m okay,” he whispers, bringing a hand up to wrap around the back of your neck. 

He’s okay, you repeat to yourself. He’s here and he’s still alive. His hands are on you. Your hands are on him. You can feel his skin, the rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat. He’s here with you. 

One hand cups your jaw and it brings you back to the present. You feel his thumb swipe over your cheek and it takes you a second to register the wetness on your face. 

When had you started crying?

——

He thinks you’re dead. Or at least down for the count. He lets his guard down. 

His knife stays lodged in your chest, your chest heaving as you feel blood fill your mouth. He pants above you, thinking he’s got out completely unscathed. 

Your vision blurs. The sound of gunfire in the distance fades. The sound of your heart thumping in your chest fills your ears, the ragged sound of your breath no more than ambience. 

Through that, you hear him call for you. It’s what brings you back down and you manage the last of your strength to flip yourself over on top of the man. Your own blade finds its way to your hand. You blink and the man is bleeding out below you. 

Your name echoes through the hall of the building, footsteps echoing in your head as you roll off of the man and back onto your back. The pain is near unbearable as you try to call back to him. 

Hands grab your vest and you can make out the outline of Roach. He’s shaking you gently, trying to keep your eyes open as he shouts something behind him. His hands cup your face and he’s the last thing you see before your eyes shut. 

——

Roach presses light kisses over your face, kissing away the tears that fall. A risk that comes with the job. You both knew that. It doesn’t stop you from thinking about it being Price at your door instead of Roach. You hiccup as you finally give in to your emotions. 

You don’t know when Roach had switched your positions, pushing you until you’re lying down on your back with him in your lap. He stays pressed against you, his forehead against yours, hands cupping your face as you sob. 

Your hands grip his forearms, fingertips digging into his skin. If it hurts, he doesn’t say anything. 

Roach holds you, whispering reassurances to you even though he knows you can’t make out much of what he’s saying. He rubs his thumbs over your cheeks before pressing a kiss to your nose. 

It takes a while for you to calm down enough to hiccup out an apology and rub the tears from your eyes. Roach just smiles at you, leaning over you to reach for the box of tissues on the table. 

——

You wake with a jolt. 

Light streams through the thin curtains, making the white room seem even brighter. It has you groaning, eyes closing in an attempt to block out some of the light. 

You move to roll over, only noticing then that you’re hooked up to multiple machines. Then you register the methodical beep of a heart monitor. 

You’re in a hospital room. 

Something shifts at your side and you glance down. Roach is fast asleep in a chair next to your bed, his head laid on the mattress next to your thigh, his hand in yours. His fingers laced with yours. 

You give them a gentle squeeze. 

You’ve never seen Roach wake up so fast. The chair he was sitting in rolled halfway across the room as he shot up from his spot. His eyes are puffy, bloodshot as he makes eye contact with you. 

You watch as he tears up, his body shaking as he cups your face with his free hand. “You’re alive,” he breathes, voice just audible over the sounds of the hospital. 

“I’m okay,” you whisper back, your voice cracking and hoarse. Your throat hurts. 

——-

Roach wipes your face clean despite your insistence that you can do it yourself. That you should be looking after him. He brushes off your worry with another kiss to your nose. When he’s finished, you both sit there, simply looking at each other for a long while. 

Roach moves first, leaning in to kiss you gently. It’s a short, sweet kiss. One you realize you’ve come to miss. “You’re okay,” you whisper softly. 

“I’m alive,” Roach says with a smile, bumping his nose against yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Gary. You’ve a month off?”

“Yessir.”