Cod Ghost X Reader - Tumblr Posts

May i ask what you think about Helen comforting-being there for Simon if he happens to have nightmares of his past and memories? i have this headcanon that he probably does have them given what has happened to the poor man so i wondered if you would ever consider doing something like that? :)

i am so sorry i took so long to answer this one, anon. i thought i could incorporate it into something, but alas it didn’t mesh well. but he 100% has them. and this is just something small of what i think could be.

simon ghost riley x f!reader (helen)

_____________

they first time he has one around her, it’s on base. her eyes full of sleep, lashes heavy as he wakes to murmuring and twitching. it takes her longer than she cares to admit—but then she touches him, hand to his chest, her other doing it’s best to slide under his balaclava, but it’s tight, so fucking tight, and he’s panicking—

his hand grabs her wrist. making it appear more dainty than it is in his grip. his chest rising and falling, all in quick succession—but it’s his eyes, swarming with darkness and disillusion.

“you’re okay…” ghost… simon. she’s not sure which of them is the one in peril. mainly, she knows how pitiful, and stupid her words were.

she’s not even sure why she lets the words escape, but she does. and he does seem to take a breath. does lessen his hold on her wrist.

he doesn’t talk about it, and she doesn’t ask. giving him space in the small bed they’re somehow sharing—letting him come round as he needs to, until his arm scoops around her waist, returning her flush against him.

sometimes they’re worse.

the one she can recall the easiest is at his place—his cries and groans rocking the house, never mind the bed. she’d been yanked from her sleep, her hand flicking on the light, half-jumping to conclusions before she saw simon, her simon.

the yellow touch of the light didn’t wake him. her eyes pinned to him, watching him somewhat thrashing, fists clenched and knuckles white. his words were twisted, messed up and hard to translate, her teeth biting her lip as she places her hand on his cheek.

a touch so similar to the one she’d give him when it’s just the two of them. simon and helen. helen and ghost. it would take a second, her palm flush with it before his breathing changed. a flicker of something.

if that didn’t work, she thought, she’d run her nails through his hair, she’d place her hand on his chest, his side—

but his eyes flip open, cold, distant—empty. they’re darker too, swirling with night and pain.

something inside of her unfurls. her anguish at seeing him like this bleeds, pooling inside of her, as vines from it begin wrapping around her insides—pulsing and tightening.

“i’m here.”

that’s all she can say, knowing him—knowing he needs to come around on his own. he needs a moment to give his brain the chance to touch reality. he blinks, adjusting—taking in that this isn’t a dream or a horrid nightmare. the walls of it crumbling, disappearing as the room comes to him.

she tried to say more, but it would be lost on him. his brain too tired and wound up to undo it all anyway. she knows him. she knows he wouldn’t want to be smothered.

it’s why she doesn’t take offence when he leaves the bed, the room—shutting the door behind him. he has a process, a way of working through things she won’t ever fathom—but he doesn’t understand hers either. her little things that keep her in reality and not off in some dark thought that envelops her.

silence ebbs at her, the room suddenly feeling larger, the air changed. the bed doesn’t feel as comfortable without him. but she remains, sliding her hand over the light to turn it off, grabbing her phone.

she reads until the door opens, him slowly entering—breath normal, hands occupied by mugs.

“did i hurt you?”

her heart drops, plummets. taking the mug, she shakes her head. “no.” hating that he even needs to ask.

she told him once before temperature would help. it would root him, remind him he’s awake and alive. since, he always get a drink—but he never drinks it. either a cold glass of water in his palm or a steaming hot drink. she further helps by tapping her nails against whatever drink she’s offered—something low, almost annoying.

in time, he’ll stop her. either placing his hand over hers, making her stop. this time he sits next to her, shooting her a glare. one she shoot’s back until be shakes his head.

“you good?”

“i’m good.”

he never wants to talk about it.

and she’ll never want to push.

she just waits until he asks her to come closer or just moves her, letting him do so until she’s where he needs her to be. just the same as he lets her when she’s had a bad night—or day.

I am excited for ghost and helen car ride 👀 we need more sass and snark hehe

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x F!Reader (Helen!Reader)

an: just a little something for a Saturday 🚘

He doesn’t elaborate on why he’s here instead of Soap, not when he loads the car, not even when the tyres hit the open road.

No explanation provided an hour in or after your two’s pit-stop-fuck. It niggled, tightened in the back of your mind that he was keeping things from you that he could tell you. Something he promised he’d never to do.

But then, you equally had promised not to put yourself in danger, and here you were accepting a mission not necessary for a medic.

You had ways of pulling information from Ghost, and even ways of retrieving it from Simon.

Both begin in the same way, following a similar pattern: indifference. You lull him into believing telling you would be better than whatever the fuck you’re doing. A bribe, an exchange.

Your chosen play was to keep messing with the radio volume and station until it wound him up. Watching his eyes dart in your direction, even if you never met them. His hips shifted periodically, making your eyes stare at the thighs you’d between your own only hours ago.

That was his play—his line of defence: his ridiculous body and his ridiculous way of knowing every inch of yours.

Except, he’d played his hand too soon. Your knickers are still in his pocket, and his cum is still very much inside of you. So, you turned the volume up another two notches, wondering how tight his jaw was under the thin fabric on his face.

You can’t assume you’re getting to him.

That’s how you fail. But, the volume is piercing your ears, so you have to wonder if it is for him. The songs neither of you know blaring, filling the small space with sounds both irritating to you, and him.

So, naturally, you turn it up again. Almost pulling your hand back when his wraps around yours, gripping it with enough purpose to tell you you’re getting to him—but not enough to hurt.

“You not like that song?”

“Enough, Helen. For fuck sake.”

You grin, keeping score as the sun sets. The ambient temperature lessens as the breezes rushes through both of your open windows. Allowing clothes to fall away from damp skin as the low light catches the metal in the car and the metal on his left hand—the evidence of your cover.

A story not far from the truth. One you’d supposed to be spinning with Soap, and not your actual lover.

Soap would also have been bare faced.

“I’d have been fine with Soap, if that’s what you were worried about.”

His hands tightens on the steering wheel. “Wasn’t worried.”

“And, as good as his singing is, it wouldn’t have swayed me from your broody nature. In case, you’re jealous that he’d get to spend two to three days with me.”

He shoots you a glare—eyes standing out due to the lack of paint around them. The same ones you see when he’s bare to you, all walls down, and willing to let you in.

Pieces of truth slide into place in front of your eyes, the puzzle almost readable—almost identifiable.

“How you going to be explain the balaclava, hubby?”

You watch for him tensing at the affectionate name. He doesn’t. If anything, he doesn’t react at all. Likely knowing it’s what you want—that right now the best the two of you have is fighting and fucking to make up for it.

He won’t tell you what’s wrong, and you’re already bored of him being difficult.

“Tell them I’m ugly. Warn ‘em I’m doing them a favour by keepin’ it on.”

You smirk, letting your head roll back on the seat as the breeze whips your hair around your neck. “Next to me, they won’t believe that.”

“Bit full of yourself, Helen.”

“If I remember, I’ma bit full of you.”

“Watch it.”

Snorting, you roll your head to look at him. “Or what? You’ll pull over and stuff more of yourself in me… cause I’ll tell you now, Simon. I’d like that too much for it to be a punishment.”

“You’re something else.”

“It’s why you married me, remember?”

“Engaged, Helen,” he snarls, and your eyes narrow at his side-profile and his tone.

Because you know that, know that the two of you haven’t quite crossed that line just yet. But for this… you’re married. A lie that you’ll need to spin when you reach the end of this particular half of the journey.

You almost saying that, it fermenting on the tip of your tongue.

But his hand takes yours again, clutching it, weaving his bare fingers in between yours. And you let the words die, wilt and fade. Beginning to maybe see what may have been bothering him.

Maybe.

happy valentine's day, jo ❤️ for the #mmvalentinesevent can i request "carding your fingers through your lover’s hair after a bad nightmare" with ghost and helen please? love you, babes!!

sometimes, i dream

simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader [helen!reader]

Some nights, he falls asleep dreaming of nothing.

In others, the black space behind his eyes comes alive with all the failings—the blood, the loss, the sights. Sometimes they’re accurate depictions, a flashback, a reminder; sometimes they’re heightened, a lie created by the fears he carries.

He never knows when they’ll come, when they’ll crash into him, and when they do…

Nightmares pull Ghost under. The mask he applies so perfectly is yanked from his face, leaving him exposed—leaving him with Simon.

Simon has scars that are different to the ones Ghost has. Ones that aren’t on skin level, but far beneath the surface.

They choke him. They force strangled noises passed his lips as the darkness wraps around his throat. It unfurls inside of him. Needing to wake, needing to escape—

“Simon…”

It drips into his ear, calls to him: her voice.

An outline of her stepping like the brightest light into the peripheral of his dream. It’s something, but not quite enough. Needing more, internally pleading with her.

Save me. Help me.

“Shh, Simon. I’m here.”

She’s more corporeal. Pushing through the shadows of his guilt, trying to reach him, desperately fighting against memories and failures and—

“Baby, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

Her nails brush through his hair as he dances between dreams and being awake. He knows them so well. A feeling he treasures and craves.

Her fingers, those healing hands, push past his slightly-too-long hair. Likely feeling the damper parts from his nightmare. Her nails occasionally scrape against his scalp, cementing him here and not wherever his mind keeps trying to take him.

Ghost flicks his eyes open. His sight meeting darkness, but not the same type his mind had conjured. This darkness has familiar shapes and calming shadows. It has outlines that make him relax.

It’s why all he does is stare.

Finding her eyes, even in the dark of the night. Needing them, having them guide him back to normal breathing.

He should admit it—tell her—that the mere whisper of his name had yanked him free of his nightmares hands. That when she repeated it again, it unlodged the grip around his lungs; untangled the knot in his stomach, and allowed his heart to thump again.

But when she called him baby... when her beautiful lips let those four letters slip out into the air—it had pulled him back to her.

Pulled him from sandy deserts, where there were screams of people he could have saved and his palms soaked with blood that wasn't his.

It’s why he stares at her like she is the sun. Because she is his sun. She lights him, both his world and his skin. She spreads warmth, even amongst the places he never thought he’d feel it again. Her smile, similar to the sunniest of days—makes everything okay, even when it couldn’t be further from it.

She has cloudy days, thunderstorms and rain, too. He knows she does. Has pulled her from them and brought her close to him.

He guesses she's returning the favour. Pull him close to her, feeling his panicked breath on her chest until he soothes and coats her skin in quick thank yous.

He will, thank her. For now, he slides his hand over her forearm, squeezing—letting her know he’s back, he’s here. A silent gratitude, one she must hear loud and clear because she drops the softest, sweetest kiss to his brow.

“Would you still love me if I was a rock, Simon?”

And he feels it before he acknowledges it: a smile.

The way it spreads like wildfire across his face. The way his mind wants to articulate some sarcastic comment, letting go of the last tendrils of his nightmare with ease.

She’s good. He thinks quickly—almost tempted to slide his palm up and feel her smirk. Using distraction.

“I’d carry you in my pocket. Maybe throw you at Johnny when he’s pissin' me off.”

She laughs the most beautiful sound, one which lulls him without trying. “You wouldn’t need to aim, either. I’ll always find the spot to hurt him. Just for you.”

He grips her arm a little tighter, thumb brushing in swipes. “S’why you’re too good for me,” he whispers, the words barely kissing the air.

“One day you’ll believe we deserve one another.”

He snorts, imagining the smile she's wearing at his grunt.

He just feels the most comfortable silence fall over them. Enough to make him close his eyes as her head meets his shoulder. Warmth spreads over him as her skin touches his.

He’s almost not afraid to try and sleep again.

Not with her by his side, his lips brushing her forehead, his hand remaining on her forearm—rooting himself with her.

an: i know this was supposed to be sweet and romantic, @halfmoth-halfman so i hope this is okay that i took it a little… angstier. loves ♥️

the effect you have

simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader

(helen!reader/ medic!reader)

wc: 2.5k warnings: helen and simon post proposal as things shift for helen. bit of angst, bit of fluff, bit of reader struggling, mainly softer!ghost. summary: ghost enjoys how you always look up at him like he’s something special—like he matters.  it’s evolved and transformed in time. a softer look in your eyes now when you stare at him, your hand gripping his cheek

simon ghost riley masterlist

You remembered when he had ignored you like he hated you. 

Doing so intentionally as if proving to himself that it meant nothing outside of the moments he pulled you into dark corners.

Even if it was he who lifted the mask—brushed his chapped lips over your neck, blew his breath over your skin until it prickled and raised.

It meant something now.

Seeing the evidence of it as you remove your gloves—eyes catching the ring he placed on your left hand. It had meant something for longer than it had been there, pulsing around the two of you. 

When he’s not on base, your memories are what keep you warm until he returns. Remembering how his bare fingers had felt fanned over your hip, the sound of how his slow breaths had filled the air, darkness blanketing the room as you wished the night never ended. 

You’re growing tired of spending more hours away from him than together. Not just because you miss him, but because you’re tired, drained…

There’s a calmness Ghost feels when you’re close.

As though, by seeing you, he doesn’t need to look for you or wonder if you’re safe, if you’re unharmed and your heart is beating. 

He doesn’t believe it when people tell him—he has to see it. He needs to. Otherwise, the little voice grows louder until it’s shouting, shrieking and using his skull as a hammer. 

It’s different when he’s alone with you. Then, he likes how you look when you’re under him. 

Ghost enjoys how you always look up at him like he’s something special—like he matters. 

It’s evolved and transformed in time. A softer look in your eyes now when you stare at him, your hand gripping his cheek—or on his shoulder—when he curls his fingers inside you. 

He relishes in watching you come apart. He likes knowing it’s him that’s doing it—that he gets to for as long as there’s air in his lungs, and you’ll have him. 

Simon likes that he barely has to lift his mask over his nose before your lips find his—hungrily, desperately like you crave him. As though you want to consume and be consumed. 

Almost like you don’t understand that you’d consumed him so long ago. You’d left a hole in him that added to the many others. 

It was just that yours could be filled—and filled it was, when Ghost managed to hold you again. When years ran their course, and you were there, showering the air with your laugh, smile and wit. 

He thinks he’ll deserve you. Ponders over it when you're lying in front of him, thinking how you’re a literal piece of art when you’re spread in front of him. When your limbs are bare, there’s the lightest sheen on your skin. 

He knows every curve, every scar. He knows the feel of every part of your body. He knows how your smile feels under his thumb and the tears under his knuckles. 

Every part of you, every emotion—he’s seen. He’s held you close and pulled you even closer. He’s watched you fall apart and placed shards of you back into place. 

Not out of obligation, but need—want. 

The same as you do to him, for him. Both of you have become excellent puzzlers over the years. Each time he’s been granted the pleasure of fucking you, he’d committed it. Written over what he managed to mentally absorb, ensuring he has the perfect render of you living in his dreams. 

Ghost still did it now, even though now you’re his. You chant it like a prayer when he pulls you close.

Yours. Yours. Yours. 

His beacon—the light that leads him. You’re his moon, his sun—the thing he never wanted to orbit but does all the same. He won’t admit it. Not a whisper of it. Not any of that or that you’re his escape, a welcomed retreat. Something dangerous in the day and sweeter at night. 

He’s always loved that about you. That when the day is done, your walls come down. The fire inside of you slowly smothered so people could get close. He’d walk through your flames if they ever rose around him, storm through until he stared at the soul in the middle. 

He wouldn’t lose you again. 

Wouldn’t squander the chance of being loved by you.

It’s why his eyes linger on the ring on your finger. The one that had been a welcomed weight in his vest, but suits being on your hand even more. 

The hand which is splayed across his stomach, the sun slowly rising, shimmering its orange hue across his base room. 

“I can hear you thinking, Simon.” 

His lips twitch as he closes his eyes. Wanting another minute, another hour, another day. 

“Go back to sleep.”

You look for him in your nightmares. 

The ones which happen nightly, more frequently than they’ve ever done. 

Your hands are dripping with cherry red, the sound of a flatline being the soundtrack until he arrives. You expect him, need him—practically call for him even if your dream-lips don’t part, and your dream-chords don’t scream. You wish for him, secretly plucking a chord for him to arrive. 

And he does. 

Whether it’s his projection appearing to pull you from the darkness, no mask on his face as the shadows and smoke swirl around his boots. Whether it’s his hand spraying across your body, pulling you back to the physical world. 

He saves you, over and over.  

Your map home, your light, your reason. 

Sometimes he feels he can keep you safe.

He pulls you from your dreams, when you’re sweating, shaking and whimpering. He holds you when your eyes mist over, your light flickering as he guides you to the shower, watching crimson wash down the drain. 

Other times, he wonders if he’s imprisoned you—shackled you to a life he can’t protect you from. 

Irrespective of him, you’re in the centre of danger—a member of 141, all the same. Your hands keep the team together, doing your bit to keep the wheels turning and the operations ticking. 

He has no part to play in you still being here. That’s a choice you make, and one he has nothing but respect for. But it’s outside of that. 

When he watches you trace his scars in a shoddy bed or when you say nothing but tighten your fingers when the two of you walk down a street, off duty. It’s those moments he wonders if he’s trapped you—made you carry his fears, carry the weight of his grief. 

Doubt rears its head then, smothering over nicer moments as he wonders if the past will take away his future. Whether he’s condemned you to a half-life because there’s only half of him left. 

He feels it when there’s a noise in the darkness. The flat the two of you live in groaning and creaking—whether it's the pipes or the floorboards. It grips his heart, and makes him kick his legs from the sheets. A need to keep you safe, to protect. 

There are times you find him, sleep in your eyes, weariness in your bones as you take his forearm and pull him back to bed. Others, he returns to find you curled in on yourself, a need to pull you close, feeling your warmth smother over him as he tries to close his eyes. 

That same feeling roars when he’s running through the dirt, kicking up dust, yanking his comms from his ears. He hears you call for someone through the comms, your whimper, your pleading. 

Ghost knows why you don’t call for him. He’s the reason you don’t—his silent request you abide without ever being asked. 

And that fills him with fury, the fear exploding into a panicked rage that would give him the strength to tear whoever came in his way. He’d rip through it, them—whatever attempted to stop him, person, moment, world—in two. 

Something in him taking over, the killer in him, the Ghost. That part of him dispatching one after the other as they fall, allowing Simon to hunt for his Helen. 

You’ve been hurt before. Too many times for his liking. He’s stroked his fingers over the scars, and traced them with the tip of his tongue. His ears have captured whimpers that turned into moans. He should be used to it, but he never is.

The twist in his chest at the sight of you on the floor, knocked back from an explosion you should never have been near. Still, your eyes land on his. Finding him—seeking him. Lips parted, hand to the back of your head—

Even concussed, you look for him. 

A sight and thought which renders him breathless. Something which stirs in him, making him find you, even in the middle of an operation. He’d do what he needed to do, take the lives that were necessary, and collect or extract what was required of him before.  

It’s what you’d want. And he’s also nothing but dedicated to the cause. But after, when the main objective is complete, he will begin his second. You curl into him, finding the spot you usually have when the two of you are alone—pulling you close, not caring about the odd looks, as he lifts you easily. 

“Keep your blood in you, Helen.” “Roger that, Ghost.”

Your eyes flick over him as though unsure if you’re dreaming or in reality. Keeping them on him, your training appearing—the usual thing you tell those who you’re taking care of:

Eyes on me. Do not close them.

He doesn’t need to tell it to you, doesn’t need to remind you of your famous words—you’re doing it already. Continuing to do so until you’re in a bed in your own workplace—a machine beeping, white bandages covering you where necessary. 

Sometimes he feels he can save you. Sometimes he feels he’s always too late. 

It’s gnawing. 

Worsening, as you call another time of death again. 

Like you have done constantly since the 141 had managed to hijack space on another base. Your expertise is needed in the medical area, watching more light fade from eyes than your heart can handle. The death is more constant than you’re used to. 

Your hands are good, but not great; your brain is quick, but not quick enough. 

Confidence wavering, determination squandered. 

In truth, it’s the damage, the injuries too severe. But your mind is a liar, a cage of deceit that reminds you you’re not good at what you do. That you lose, over and over again…

The reason he’s so good—why he can and used to work alone—is that he notices things.

Ghost spots things, the tiny flicker of reflection, the tyre marks, the kicked-up sand and oddly placed buildings when they scan satellite images. 

It’s why he knows you’re running on nothing. Something has changed inside of you. Something had been broken—ripped in two and left dangling, withering in your chest where hope once was. 

Often, a break helped. You mended and sowed yourself back together with the same magical hands you save lives with. But the last two-week break at home didn’t do that. Your body was small, curled up in bed for reasons he didn’t like. The smile he loves to bottle stares at him, all forced and different at the edges. 

He should have asked, but feelings aren’t his strength. He fixes, builds and repairs…

Ghost isn’t sure how to fix this. How to heal you. So he doesn’t, even if he should. 

A part of him praying you’ll blink one day on base, and he’ll see the embers in your eyes. His prayers are unanswered, watching more of your fire being taken, more of your body slumping, a tiredness sleep couldn’t fix. 

“Think we should buy a house.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, holding your hand in your office. Tired of watching you dwindle, shrink and wane. Forcing his way into your office, just like he always does. He waits for the usual smirk, pauses for it. Watching as he finds a soft smile there instead, replacing what he usually knows.

He’ll take it. 

Fuck, he’d take anything you gave him. Forever lucky to have a speck of you, never mind all of you.

Rolling your hand between his gloves, he doesn’t miss how you sigh contently. “Somewhere quiet. A fixer-upper.”

“You gonna be fixing it up?” 

Smiling, he looks at you. 

Does so until the seconds bleed into a minute, watching the walls come down—the sheet of pretence—watching that tiredness return. The one you try to hide, but he sees all the same. 

“Think y’could do with a project.”

“You do, huh?”

He grips your hand a little tighter, more purposeful. “It’s alright that sometimes enough, is enough. Y’know?” 

He watches as you bite the inside of your lip, blinking—a shimmer growing in your eyes as you try to hold it all back. He studies you and keeps his eyes fixed until you sweep your tongue across your bottom lip. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Casper.” 

He nods, loosening his grip begrudgingly on your hand before he pulls it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your skin. Savouring the softness, feeling your ring under his thumb, before he lets it go, watching you, watch him. 

“You remember when you used to hate me?”

“Never hated you.”

Smirking, you fold your arms. Keeping your left hand—the one which sparkles—on the top. On display.

“Jus’ wanted to keep you safe.” 

Your smirk drops, blending into a smile, as your head tilts and you let out a heavy breath. “I prefer how you keep me safe now than you did then.” 

He knows. Feels it too. Has kept you safe differently since he had you back then he did before. Then it was about keeping you out, now it's about keeping everyone else away.

Swallowing, he nods, picking up his balaclava from your desk, turning it in his hands as he stares at you. “Me too.” 

You drop your eyes, shoulders sinking as he stands from the chair. It creaks, the noise disrupting the quiet of the small room the two of you are hiding in as he begins to put his balaclava on. 

“Simon…”

He halts, the fabric coming down to his nose as you lean forward, pressing your lips to his before wiping a finger to remove any chapstick from his lips. 

“You should ask Soap to be your best man.” 

Snorting, he shakes his head. “Not a fuckin’ chance, Helen.” 

The fabric coming down over his face, the Ghost smothering over Simon as your fingers help slide the bottom into his top. 

“I need to cut your hair when you’re back.”

"Thought y'said you're not doing that anymore."

Shrugging, your hand cups his fabric-covered cheek, his head turning, pressing his lips against it as he watches something light in your eyes. 

“Be safe, need you back with me if we’re doing house viewings, Casper.” 

He smirks, hoping you can see it, lifting his hand up, showing one finger, then four, then three. 

i know it's my period talking but hear me out !!! Simon Riley who just wants to spoil you <3

Like imagine him passing a bookstore and immediately thinking of the books you had mentioned once or twice, then surprising you in evening with a peck on your cheeks and a stack of books.

Like can you imagine Simon, shirtless, his muscular abs glistening with moonshine as he makes you dinner while you sit on the counter watching him with love.

Okay but how about Simon watching makeup tutorials, later having you on your lap, eyes narrowing as he applies the mascara, and groaning when you move because damn, you got him hard as a rod.

And Simon being a daddy, you need this babygurl ?! Here, this ?! Here, want new summer dresses, he got you ! Because holy Fuckity fuck— you look so cute.

Also don't get me started about gifts because he's going to spoil you so bad, chocolates and perfumes and books and albums and concert dates !!! If people gawk at a large man with his skully balaclava, walking around the art gallery with his cute little girlfriend then let it be.

how cute he gets when he takes care of you !!! Making stars and circles and cosmic love to you while you are on your periods, making you all your favourite dishes and braiding you hair in pattern like you had seen on Pinterest. Scolding you when you don't take care of yourself enough, because who's gonna hold you like him ? Who's gonna love you like him ?

Nobody. No-fucking-body.

Masterlist

Love it when Ghost went feral when the reader went limp

Protector

Paring: Simon Ghost Riley x f!reader

Warnings: torture, canon typical violence, protective ghost, mentions of past trauma, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 6.5k words

Synopsis: You and Ghost were captured and tortured...

This is based on this post that I made a while ago. Basically "touch her and I'll kill you" trope.

EDIT: Here's part 2

“…Get up!”

“…Fucking get up!”

The voice seemed familiar. It was rough, low and resonated in your head. Furious but hidden beneath it was a desperate plea.

Searing hot pain resonated from the back of your head and though your eyes were open you couldn't see a thing through the bright light that burned into your eyes. Something hot rolled down your face and the back of your neck as you stared into the blurry light trying to discern what was going on.

You couldn’t move a muscle, not even your fingers as an intense coppery taste fell into your mouth. It hurt to breathe against the cold floor, your chest and sides collapsing into you causing you to wheeze.

You blinked almost in slow motion. Unable to let your eyes shut despite the pulling weight you felt as if you were going to sink into the floor and fall asleep. You were tired and so cold yet you couldn’t even shiver without feeling pain electrocute you.

“You hear him?” A gruff voice, almost muffled but cold and condescending, called out to you as you felt a nudge on your side. You winced but that’s all you could do as you stared up at the shadow in front of you. “He wants you to get up."

Another voice just as cold said something in a different language you couldn't comprehend in your state. They argued back and forth while you tried to find the familiar person.

You squinted through the light to try to discern who was in front of you. Your vision was too blurry from pain and tears but no matter how many times you blinked them away you couldn't see. It made your heart race but the heavy beating hurt against your chest more than it should.

A swift kick to your gut knocked the wind out of you before you could cry out in pain. You gasped for air as tears ran down your face and more blood filled your mouth. The kick left sharp pains inside your abdomen and every moment you couldn't take in a breath, the more it hurt.

Hands grabbed onto your arms and yanked you off the ground, ignoring the cries you let out as they dragged you across the floor. You were thrown onto a chair and winced when you felt your restraints dig into your sore wrists and ankles as they tightened them around you again.

A hand grabbed you jaw and squeezed, causing you to wince again as you were forced to look ahead of you.

“She’s up now.” The man snickered and your attention moved in front of you. “This is what you wanted, yes?”

Your captor was talking to a man who was tied to a chair in front of you. Now that the light was partially out of your eyes and gravity allowed your tears to be blinked away, you could see.

The man across from you looked unfamiliar. His blond hair was stained with red and his face was bruised with blood as well. Despite that he seemed to have much more strength than you did since he was able to sit up straight when you couldn’t even hold your own head up.

Your eyes widened when you realized that was your lieutenant. That was Ghost.

You were seeing Ghost without his mask.

“Just tell us what we want and you can stop this.” Your captor gestured to your face.

Ghost glared at the man who held your face but said nothing. You couldn’t see how angry he was, how much hatred there was in his eyes and if looks could kill then both of you would’ve been free by now.

Blood dripped from your mouth and your captor let go of you by shoving your head away. He growled something under his breath as he walked away from you. You wanted to see what he was going to do but you didn’t have enough strength to lift your head up. You were glad for that however because almost immediately you could hear the man beating Ghost.

You wished you could tune out the sounds but you couldn’t. Every grunt and labored breath hit your ears, threatening you with an experience you had just been through.

You gathered all the strength you could muster and tried to struggle against your restraints but it wasn’t even enough to make them dig into your skin. You wheezed again and when those few seconds of fighting left you, you were hit with intense exhaustion.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you passed out.

~

Ghost’s chest heaved up and down as fresh blood ran down his face. He wasn’t sure how long his face had been used as a punching bag but he preferred it over being used as a cutting board instead. He would prefer to be anywhere else but in a concrete room, in a building that Price was struggling to find, however that was the risk that came with the job.

A simple recon mission had turned into getting captured by Russian weapons dealers. They weren’t exactly the hospitable type considering his nose was broken and he was missing a few fingernails.

He wasn’t new to torture but this had to be the worst torture method he had been through.

Ghost looked up at you and felt his entire world shatter.

If he hadn’t seen your eyes searching for him, he would’ve thought you were dead. You were covered in blood and bruises of all colors. Your clothes were tattered from having knives carved into your skin and he could see a few burn marks that would surely leave nasty scars. You had lost so much blood he was surprised you were still alive but so grateful you were holding on.

You weren’t supposed to be in here with him and there was no denying that it was his fault you were.

You both had been captured at the same time, a mistake from you both but he took the sole blame for it as your lieutenant. You were separated and Ghost assumed that they were at least keeping you locked up without touching you while they tried their hardest to get information out of him.

He assumed they were just going to keep trying, they were going to continue to beat the living hell out of him and he was going to say nothing to them. But he was proved wrong when they quickly realized they were getting nowhere with him so they brought you in to try to beat it out of you too. And then Ghost made the stupid mistake by opening his mouth and telling them to stop.

It took one word from him to seal your fate. One word and you became their favorite toy to beat, cut and harm in every possible way just to get Ghost to talk.

You were being used against him and as much as he wanted to deny it, to say he was an operative who knew how to handle these situations and was disciplined beyond the nines, it was working.

Every scream, every cry you let out broke down his defenses and it became harder for Ghost to keep his mouth shut. He wanted to tell them everything and that was scary for more than one reason which made him feel sick.

Scary because if they got the right info out of him, he could jeopardize the lives of many and become even more of a failure than he already was in this moment. Scary because if he was willing to break to end your suffering for the sake of both of you, he had to come to terms with how he truly felt about you.

And right now he couldn’t.

Ghost stopped himself by telling himself that once he gave them the info they needed, both of you were going to die. It was enough to keep his mouth shut until the next round of torture came.

All of the torture and pain for you was going to end soon. There was a spot on his restraints that was hidden from the weapons dealers that he had been working on since he had been strapped down. He could feel it start to become loose enough he could break his hand free, he just had to wait for the right moment.

“Sergeant.” He called out to your limp form with a raspy voice before he spit blood onto the floor.

You didn’t respond. You were out cold and his chest hurt more if it was even possible.

This past round of torture had been especially cruel and long. The weapons dealers had been relentless in their beatings, going so far as to toss you on the ground to kick you as hard as they could until you were coughing up blood.

“You better not fucking die on me.” He tugged on his restraint and never looked away from you. “That’s an order.”

It was a feeble attempt to make himself feel better. He worked against his restraint, staring at the bruises on your skin and the blood dripping from your face onto your clothes.

He thought about how you were going to be so much more damaged after this. Your smile was going to be absent from your beautiful face, your laughter would no longer grace his soul, you probably wouldn’t even give him those little touches he thought he hated. They had hurt you so much more than he ever wanted to think about and that made him pissed.

Ghost broke through it with ease. Adrenaline and rage coursed through his veins as he wasted no time ripping the rest of his restraints off. When he was finally free he shot up from his chair and nearly collapsed on the floor.

He was in worse shape than he wanted to believe.

Black spots dotted his vision and his aching muscles weighed him down enough that he had to hold onto the chair to keep himself from falling. His head pounded furiously which made it difficult to even blink as he found himself short of breath even though he had only stood up from the chair.

Everything hurt but he couldn’t let that stop him. He needed to be strong for you. He could rest when you were safe.

He pushed off the chair and kneeled in front of you. His eyes jumped all over you, trying to make sure you weren’t actively bleeding out before he gently cupped your face with shaky hands.

“Sergeant.” His voice was softer than usual as he held your face. “Come on, wake up.”

When Ghost moved your head ever so slightly you woke up with a slight jump. You immediately began to breathe quicker, thinking that a new round of torture was going to start before he spoke.

“It’s me.” He assured you and watched your eyes finally open. He always thought he was blessed by the universe when you looked at him but now he truly felt like the luckiest man to see them after all you both had been through. “It’s Ghost.”

“Ghost…” You rasped out, wincing from the pain as you relaxed now that he was in front of you.

“I’m here.”

He kept a hand on your cheek as he began to undo your restraints, one of his fingers pressed against your weak pulse. You weren’t bleeding out but a few more beatings like the one you had just endured and you’d be gone from him. He had to be quick and extremely careful when breaking out of here.

“I’m getting us out of here.” He explained in a low tone as your wrists became free but you didn’t move to get up. “We’ll have to move quick. I can’t fight and carry you at the same time, think you can walk for me?”

Ghost was prepared to have to carry you if you said you couldn’t. He’d come up with another plan instead of fighting his way out of there.The idea of moving sounded horrible to you, he could see it in your eyes, but you nodded as you gripped the chair tightly to prepare yourself to stand up.

He grabbed your arms as gently as he could and was going to help you up when he heard movement outside of the room.

“Fuck.” He gently set you back down in the chair and held your face so you were looking at him. “Stay.”

He moved away from you, and took position beside the door and listened to the approaching footsteps with bated breath. The silence in his ears was only broken by the loud beating of his heart as he braced himself for a fight he was determined to win.

When the door opened, his eyes narrowed. All of the torture he endured turned into anger but all of the torture you endured turned into blinding hot rage. He barely had enough self control to wait for the man to even enter the room before he began swinging.

The man let out a shocked yelp as Ghost’s fist connected with his face. He had no time to react when he grabbed the man by the shirt and flung him in the wall, pinning him against it as he rammed his fist into his face relentlessly.

Ghost was seeing red. He kneed the man in the stomach and caught his arm when he tried to fight back, ignoring the loud crack that came from it when twisted it as hard as he could. He didn’t care when the man screamed in pain, in fact he almost relished in it before he managed to wrap his arms around the man's neck and started to choke him.

He easily could’ve snapped it. The fight would’ve been over but he didn’t want it to end that quick. He wanted this man to suffer for putting his hands on you, almost wishing he could return the damage but there was no time for that.

The man went limp and Ghost threw him on the ground. He was breathing heavily as he snatched the knife he had from his back pocket.

The man deserved worse.

“Still with me, sergeant?” He rushed back over to you and when you nodded he carefully wrapped his arms around you. “We gotta go.”

You tried not to scream, but a groan left your throat as pain flushed over you when he pulled you up. Your chest heaved up and down as your vision went black, and you fell against Ghost. You felt his protective arms hold you up and close to him as you waited for your vision to come back. You could hardly stand on your own but you gripped his forearms for dear life while you forced yourself to stay strong.

“I’m okay.” You didn’t sound convincing as you tried to push away from him but he wouldn’t let go.

“No.” He bent down and wrapped his arm under your knees before you picked up with ease despite the screaming pain in his muscles. “I’ve got you.”

You were unnaturally cold in his arms. He held you close to his chest to try to warm you up. His heart skipped a beat when you wrapped your arms around him and hid your face in the crook of his neck. He adjusted his hold on you, trying his best not to hurt you as he did, and made his way towards the door.

He hoped that no one had heard the struggle and when he glanced at the body on the ground, it took a lot of self control not to kick it.

“Your mask…” Your weak voice was close to his ear and sent a shiver down his spine.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be fine.”

He hadn’t even thought about his face being exposed. He didn’t care if anyone saw his face at this moment, the only thing on his mind was getting you out of there.

Ghost peered out of the door down the dimly lit hall. He wasn’t sure how big the building was but luckily for the both of you no one seemed to be around. That didn’t make him feel any less on edge, in fact he was more on edge since he didn’t know the layout of the building or the routine any of its inhabitants had. For all he knew, someone could be coming around the corner and you’d both be screwed.

He stepped out in the hallway, keeping his attention on both sides as he stayed close to the wall. He moved close to the ground, trying to keep his footsteps quiet.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered as he turned around a corner.

“Stop.” He interrupted and felt more anger rise in him “I don’t want to hear any of that. Not now or when we get out of here.”

“Sorry…”

Noise from down the hall made him stop. His heart started to race and he quickly raced back to the corner, hiding behind it as he listened to the approaching chatter of two guards.

His eyes frantically searched for a room to hide in before he noticed what looked to be like a supply closet. He swung the door open and stepped inside, struggling to shut the door before they rounded the corner. He got it to close to a crack before he heard their voices closer than ever.

He stilled and held you closer to him. He felt your arms wrap just a little bit tighter around his shoulders as you both tried to breathe quieter. In the silence of the supply closet he could hear just how bad your wheezing was and it only gave him more motivation to get out of there as fast as he could.

He hoped neither one of your lungs were going to collapse before you made it out.

The chatter from the guards slowly began to disappear but he waited. He didn’t move a muscle even after the guards were long gone from the hallway. He wanted to be sure that no one else was going to show but for the first time since he had been subjected to torture he was able to catch his breath.

The pitch black closet and the silence within gave him a sense of security. He was fine with listening to your breathing in his ear as he shut his eyes for just a moment, just to find some peace.

You must’ve felt the same since your hold around him loosened and your breathing had gone steady. He held you closer to him, making sure you were still secure in his arms.

“They hurt you.” You whispered, causing him to open his eyes.

You were pointing out the obvious but he could hear the worry in your voice especially when your thumb caressed a cut on his neck.

“I’ve been through worse, don’t worry about me.” Ghost assured you as he pushed the closet door open with his foot. “You should see yourself.”

You grunted maybe out of pain or exhaustion when you were reminded of the serious state you were in. Your eyes were barely able to stay open as he maneuvered through the halls again.

“Thought you were dead.”

“Hurts too much for that.”

Ghost clenched his jaw tightly, making a mental note that when you both got out here to find the fuckers. He would request a solo mission when he got off leave just for the purpose of finding the other weapons dealer. They may have been able to capture him this one time but they made the mistake of not killing him before he got out.

He quickened his pace down the hall, hoping to find some sort of indication of where he was going. There were no signs, the walls were so empty that he wondered if maybe he was going in circles. He huffed and hoped that wasn’t the case.

A yell echoed off the walls, not too far from where he stood, and he instinctively tightened his grip on you. You winced and he wanted to apologize but he was now on high alert as he listened to the angry voices that were impossible to tell where they were coming from.

He was an expert at this. It was his job to sweep the halls and be prepared for everything, to know when someone could be next or when he was approaching an enemy. His hyper awareness of his surroundings was second nature and yet he had gotten into this situation and he was struggling to put those skills back into use.

He was distracted by his aching muscles and screaming wounds that stained his dirty clothes. His mind raced with trying to keep track of where he was and keeping you safe.

You were taking up most of his mind too. He was trying to not hurt you, to jostle you around and make your wounds worse while trying to hightail it out of there so you could get the help that you needed. He was being too kind to your wounds in a situation like this, his military training of just getting the person out and dealing with the aftermath completely gone from his mind.

There were too many things on his mind and he wasn’t able to control it like he usually did.

It was going to get you both killed, but he couldn’t do it and that’s how he knew he needed to get out there quick. He wasn’t in any shape to be doing this yet if he had waited any longer then you both could’ve died as well. Overall, the situation you both were in was the worst case scenario that no one wanted to be in while working this job.

“Need you to hold onto me and not let go.” Ghost told you and though you had been doing that already, he wanted to make sure you were going to do it when he would need to run away.

“Okay.” You said through gritted teeth as his fingers dug into a particularly sore spot on your side.

Once you tightened your hold around him, enough to where it made him flinch from the pain, he began to jog down the hallway. Despite his quick movements and being as massive as he was, his footsteps were still light enough that it would be difficult to hear him.

He hoped that at some point he would come across a window or a room he could stop in to look for information. He couldn’t keep going around the base full of enemies who would most likely kill on sight blind. Every moment he spent wandering through the halls he was taking a gamble with death.

His ears heard it before he could register it.

Footsteps from around the corner, fast ones that came up onto him far too quickly for him to turn and run the other direction. He barely had time to react when three men rounded the corner.

One of the men didn’t hesitate to slam his fist into Ghost's jaw even after they were startled by seeing him. Ghost stumbled back and tried to hold onto you but the man practically ripped you out of his arms to throw you on the ground.

He was pushed back into the wall, becoming disoriented by the barrage of punches to his sore head, unable to throw any punches back himself.

You were trying your best to fight one of the other guards who had trapped you on the floor underneath as he laid waste to you but your injuries made it extremely difficult to do anything, all the while the other man carefully watched.

Ghost managed to get one good punch to the man jugular before he pulled the knife out of his pocket. He stabbed it through the man’s neck, jamming in it as far as he could while he choked on his blood, before he threw him on the ground.

He didn’t hesitate to throw the knife at the man on top of you, hitting him right in the neck.

With the last of your strength you pushed the guard off you and sliced the knife across his throat.

“Y/n!” Ghost called out to you when he watched you go limp before he turned his attention on the other man.

He saw red again when he realized it was the other weapons dealer. He clenched his fists and charged towards the weapons dealer. He noticed the gun that was pointed at him but he was too focused on the hidden look of fear in the man's eyes as he sprinted towards him.

The weapons dealer pulled the trigger and hit Ghost in the thigh, but that didn’t stop him. Nothing but a bullet to the head was going to stop him from his determination to kill the man in front of him.

Ghost grabbed the man by the wrist to twist it and the gun went off in his ear. He wasted no time to punch him as hard as he could, the ringing in his ears spurring him on. He slammed his fist into his face as hard as he could, feeling his knuckles crack from the force.

He lifted his good leg and kicked the man’s knee cap in, causing them both to fall to the floor. The weapons dealer tried to roll out from under him but Ghost grabbed him by the hair and slammed his face into the concrete repeatedly to stop him.

He was feral, blinded by rage, harming the man in front of him not out of survival but out of passionate revenge. Memories of your screams made him go crazy as he wrapped his hands around the weapons dealer neck. Every cry replayed in his mind along with the image of your damaged body causing him to squeeze hard while the man struggled underneath him.

If Ghost could see himself he would be unrecognizable. Your pain had resurfaced an old evil within him that hadn’t seen the light of day since he adopted his new name. It brought the monster that was obsessed with violence and the death of anyone who dared to lay a harmful hand on him or the one he loved.

There was a reason why this side of him had been put out of commission. He hated the scalding hotness that raced through his veins, the tightness in his throat, and the way he felt out of control. It was dangerous.

He was dangerous.

The weapons dealer’s body went limp. It took a moment for Ghost to realize he was dead but when he saw that he was no longer writhing underneath him, he released his hands.

Ghost was breathing heavily as he stared down at the dead body underneath him. His vision blackened and whitened, hot liquid running down his leg and staining his dirty pants with fresh blood. He felt dizzy from the blows to his head and the rapid blood loss which made it hard for him to get up from the floor.

He clenched his teeth, almost breaking them as he crawled his way to you. He bit back any groans as he came up to you, placing his fingers on your pulse.

It was weak, almost non-existent, but still there. That was enough to keep him going.

He cradled your head with hands that had just committed atrocities so gently. He stared down at the blood pouring out of your nose and the new bruises that were already forming. He hoped for your sake that your face wasn’t broken.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” He assured you even though you were unconscious. He carefully pulled you into his arms again and held onto you securely. “Gonna get you out of here. Gonna patch you up, make you okay.”

His words were slurred and he was blabbering. The blood loss was getting to him and he knew if he didn’t try to move now, both of you were going to die.

Ghost braced himself, taking a deep breath and stood up on shaky legs. He couldn’t hold back the groan of pain that ripped through his throat. He took shallow breaths, his skin getting sweaty and cold before he resumed down the hall as if nothing had happened.

He limped down the cold, ugly hallways and left a trail of blood in his wake. Every step felt like the bullet wound grew bigger, ripping his skin apart until there was nothing left.

He didn’t care. The only thing on his mind was you.

You. Just you.

Your poor state. Your conscious body as it hung limp in his arms, covered in dirt, blood, grime. Hours, days worth of pain that would never go away that would forever soil your mind and body with scars. You could be dead in his arms, having bled out internally and he wouldn’t know until he got out of there.

“You’re okay.” He mumbled to push those thoughts away. “You’re okay…”

Ghost kept repeating it to himself like a mantra. It helped him keep the little amount of strength he had to keep you in his arms when he heard rapid footsteps echo off the halls again.

He was prepared to run or try to at least. He was prepared to fight until he was shot through if it meant you would somehow survive.

“Simon!”

He knew that voice. The rough, commanding voice belonged to Price and he had never been happier to hear him bark out his name. He felt like he could breathe again as he stopped in his tracks.

He was lucky that Price had finally found them and he wondered if maybe that’s what spurred on the sudden yelling from the base. Honestly he didn’t care at the moment. You were getting out of that hell hole and neither of you had to ever step foot back in it. He nearly collapsed as he heard his team’s footsteps get closer but he held on as he swallowed thickly.

He blinked the blurriness from his eyes and looked ahead of him seeing the rest of the task force armed to the teeth rushing towards him.

“Take her.” That was the first thing he said to them as they approached him and he held you out.

Gaz quickly took you from his arm, holding you close to him before he raced down the hall following behind Price who was already commanding a plan to get out of there.

Ghost watched after them, missing the comforting weight of you in his arms and finding himself much lighter without you. He wished he had the strength to carry you himself but he could hardly walk forward without stumbling which prompted Soap to wrap his arm around his shoulder.

Soap took most of his weight as they both walked down the hall.

“Johnny.” He weakly said as his vision began to spin, his fingers digging into his shirt.

“I got you L.t.” Soap assured him as he pushed forward.

Ghost suddenly felt too heavy to walk anymore. All of his strength was gone now that he didn’t have to worry about you. You were safe and now he could finally go to sleep. His vision went spotted with black dots before his knees buckled underneath him.

“Ghost!”

~

Ghost woke up with a start. The first thing he noticed was the dull ache he felt all over his body, the brunt of it taken away by what he could only assume were heavy pain meds.

“Morning.” He looked to his right to see Soap sitting on a chair next to his bed with a small smile. “How you feelin’ L.t?”

“Ask me later.” His voice was hoarse and his throat was scratchy, causing Soap to hand him a glass of water with a chuckle.

He drank the water, finding that as soon as it touched his mouth he was incredibly thirsty. He chugged it, finding that even though it wasn’t cold it was the most refreshing thing he had in months.

When he was finished Soap took the glass from him and refilled it from a pitcher that sat on a table next to his bed. He handed the glass back to him and watched with slight worry as he began to chug it again. While he did he looked at the room around them..

He was lying in a hospital bed. The usual hard mattress and uncomfortable blankets were anything but that as he felt himself sink deep into them, finding a safe warmth in them. He was connected to various machines that beeped in tandem with his heart while his body was covered in stitches and sterile white bandages.

His hand was already in a cast and his leg was propped up on a fluffy pillow.

He was in the infirmary back on base. He was safe from harm.

“You're a beast, you know that?” Soap said as he took the glass back when he was finished. “Breakin’ out and running through the base with a bullet in your leg.”

“Had to. If I didn’t, we might’ve died-”

His heart stopped. His eyes searched around the infirmary frantically as he attempted to get out of bed to go look for you but Soap put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Easy. She’s okay.” He assured him before he jutted his chin across from him.

Ghost looked over and his gaze softened immediately.

You were sleeping in the bed next to him. You were hooked up to the same machines as him but you were bandaged up a lot more. He watched your chest rise from your steady breathing, finding himself mimicking it as his shoulders relaxed. You looked peaceful and deep in sleep, most likely from copious amounts of pain meds the doctor gave you.

He laid back on the bed, his eyes never leaving you.

“She was in worse condition than you.” Soap began as he eyed you both. “Broken ribs, other bones, major concussion, internal bleeding. Been sleeping ever since we picked you both up.”

Ghost swallowed thickly. He couldn’t even begin to describe the pit that formed in his stomach as he watched you. As much as he wanted to rationalize that the guilt he felt wasn’t warranted, his mind wouldn’t let him get rid of it.

He had almost indirectly killed you. He wouldn’t forgive himself if that had happened.

“How long?” He mumbled and heard Soap let out a deep sigh.

“About a week.” Soap said and he shook his head.

“Fucking hell…”

It had certainly felt longer than a week. Those long hours of torture and the short periods of recuperation between them had felt like an eternity. He remembered how every hour that passed by had been a month. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Soap had told him that, but knowing that so much damage had been inflicted on you both in a matter of a week made the pit in his stomach worse.

He couldn’t imagine how long it felt for you.

The physical toll this was going to take on you would hopefully clear up and not become long term but he knew your mental would most likely take the biggest hit.

“Price is puttin’ both you on leave for a while.” Soap caught his attention and he looked back at him. “He won’t admit it out loud, but he’s worried.”

“Guess that’s expected.” Ghost huffed and shut his eyes for a moment. Even though he knew it was the right call, considering the extent of the injuries you both had suffered, he absolutely hated the idea of having to stay on base, or worse, go back home. He would be forced to take it easy, to not do anything strenuous which meant he would be stuck doing absolutely nothing. It was the perfect opportunity for him to think too much.

He couldn’t hide himself in his work like he normally did. Hell, he probably wouldn’t be able to hide himself in any of the hobbies he had that he rarely participated in.

A heavy sigh left his chest and he rubbed his eyes. He would have to deal with the hell he was going to put himself through, he was used to it, but that didn’t mean it was going to be easy.

“Here.” Soap tossed one of Ghost’s spare masks on his lap. “Figured you might want it.”

Ghost picked up the mask and looked at the black material. It was just one of his simple balaclavas and in any other moment he would’ve put it on so at least he felt some sense of security in the midst of all of this. However when he glanced at you, something in him told him to wait.

“Thanks, Johnny.” He watched as his friend gave him a small smile and patted him on the shoulder.

“Get some rest, L.t.” Soap stood up and pushed the chair out of the way.

Ghost watched him leave before he turned his attention back to you. You were the only thing he really wanted to look at in the infirmary, finding that you distracted him from the annoying beeps of the machines and the sterile walls that surrounded you both.

This wasn’t the first time that Ghost had found himself watching you as you slept.

Most of the time his attention was elsewhere when you both were on missions. He always took first watch on missions that spanned more than one day since he struggled to fall asleep as quickly as you. His eyes would wander to you when nothing in particular was happening and he was immensely intrigued by your ability to seemingly sleep peacefully no matter the situation.

He almost envied you. It took a while for him to take control of his thoughts when he laid down to sleep and yet the moment you shut your eyes you were gone.

Even now you seemed to be the most comfortable he had seen you in a week or even a month.

It was most likely the meds, but that didn’t stop the sense of comfort he felt as your chest rose and fell slowly.

Ghost toyed with the mask in his hand. His eyes bounced around your relaxed face and he let out a soft sigh that made him sink further into the mattress. He wanted to be awake when you woke up, but his eyelids started to get too heavy for him to keep open.

You had that effect on him and you didn’t even know.

In his sick, twisted mind he hoped he had the same effect on you. He hoped that he gave you a similar comfort and safety that you gave him despite the fact that he was a ruthless killer. Even after all he’d done in the enemy’s base, the cold blood murders he committed, he hoped that somehow you were happy to have him around you.

He was sure the moment you woke up he would too. And when he did he would make sure that you knew you were safe.

He always would.

A/N: Part 2? Also this is way longer than I had expected lol

Yellow! I’ma back! 🤣

You mentioned getting into Cod and liking Konig and Ghost! I’m starting to love ghost but I adore Konig.

Do you think you could do something for both (specifically Konig though) of these giants (and anyone else you wanna link up in here)? 😆

I don’t care how but I was thinking something like:

Through work the boys have always had their eyes on (you/us/the person 😂) making sure that (I think it’d be funny if the person was a girl but I think it’d be funnier if they were a guy now that I think about it) they are fine, they’re just so tiny compared to them it’s honestly kind of funny.

But here’s the kicker for my stupid mind: This tiny little person they’ve been keeping an eye on is a literal baddie! They’re funny to watch because off work they’re seen as a sweet little thing you wouldn’t expect could hurt a fly but then they hit the grounds of their mission and they re absolutely feral, a menace that completely destroys the image that everyone had of them.

I think it’s an absolutely hilarious thought but if you don’t want to do it I understand, and make sure to take care of yourself and have a good day!

Oh boy this is interesting 😏😎

💀 As soon as you enter Taskforce 141 he has an eye on you. Because. You're so tiny?? He doesn't think you'll be able to handle yourself on the battle field!

💀 He always sticks around and near you whenever you're on a mission. He doesn't want a team member to die! He also instructs you a lot on stuff you already know how to do?

💀 "So all you need to do is to keep quiet and catch the enemy when they least expect it. A nice cut to the throat-" "Yeah, I know?" He gives you a stare but stops.

💀 One particular mission went bad. Ghost wasn't careful enough and is sitting against a wall with a wound on his stomach.

💀 Suddenly you turn around the corner and kneel in front of him looking at his wound. "Ghost, can you walk?" "Yeah. I endured worse."

💀 Just as you try to help him up Ghost yells. "Watch out!!" An enemy turned up behind you - and he was twice as tall as you.

💀 With a swift motion you take out your knife and stab it into the guys neck, sending two kicks to his stomach. The guy falls to the ground gurgling. You take the knife out of his neck and plunge it into his skull, the enemy being dead immediately.

💀 You turn around and look at Ghost. You don't see it but a proud grin is plastered on his face. "Good job."

👑 He feels the need to protect you. You're a small and fragile princess in his eyes. You're not supposed to be in the military..!

👑 He hates to see you go on dangerous missions, you shouldn't let your life be like... This. You should be somewhere more peaceful, live a happy life with a lot of friends!

👑 One day you got assigned to go on a mission with him. You had to find out about the an enemy, who was seen to have smuggled a suspicious package.

👑 König decided to go first. "You stay here, verstanden?"

👑 Of course you wouldn't stay here. Duh?? You follow him and suddenly he got ambushed by a guy with a gun. He holds the gun to Königs head but this guy didn't see you!

👑 You push the guy to the ground grabbing his arm and breaking it. He screams in pain and the blood splatters in your face. His bone is standing up and the man whimpers in pain.

👑 König looks at you and hands you his gun. You take it and put a bullet through the guys head. Then you turn to face König. "Are you alright?"

👑 König nods. "Yeah... Danke... You saved my life." You smile slightly. "I am your team mate, I won't let you die. Not on my watch. C'mon, let's finish this mission!"

Ghost x Injured!Reader

The mission failed. You and your team wrre supposed to retrieve date from the enemy base but because of a small mistake on your behalf everything went downhill. And now enemies are all over the place while Taskforce 141 tried to kill all of them. It wasn't easy. Not at all.

You quickly make your way around the building still trying to maybe get the USB-stick and make up for your escape.

As you look throughout the building you finally stumble upon the directors office. Quickly you make your way to the desk looking around for the stick, hoping to retrieve it after all.

After a few minutes of searching you suddenly see it. The stick! It was hidden inside one of the plant pots. You grab the thing and put it in your pocket looking up. Just as you want to leave one of the enemies jumps you and shoots at you with a gun. Not moving in time you get wounded. With a twisted look of pain on your face you look up at your killer.

"C'mon... Let's get this over with..!" You grit your teeth as the enemy cocks his gun one more time. You close your eyes waiting for the impact. But nothing. Slowly you open your eyes again... The guy was now laying on the ground, a bloody puddle forming underneath his head. Slowly you sit up a little, the pain in your side almost too unbearable.

"(Y/n)... 're you alright?" You recognize the voice... It's your Lieutenant, Ghost!

"Ghost..!" He looks at you and sighs examining your body. "You were lucky.. The shot didn't hit any vital organs... I'll take you to the medbay at the base.. Let's go."

You look at him, sighing as he helped you up. "Thank god you were there.. He almost-" "Don't... I know."

Ghost helps you back in the truck. Soap, Gaz, and Price are already inside as they see you. Price starts the engine and drives back to the base with quite some speed. "Shit, they got you, huh?" Gaz sighs. "We'll be back at the base in no time, don't worry."

You just sigh as Ghost presses a white cloth against your wound, instantly soaking the cloth in dark red blood.

"Don't be so reckless next time. Can't 'ave you dyin' out here now, can I?"

A short Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader! I hope you enjoyed it!

thinking about simon "ghost" riley just being a huge cuddler while at home. he doesnt let his guard down during missions but when he is returning home he just wants to be cuddled, kissed and praised. he deserves it.

Sacrifice for the Phantom

In the darkness of night, amidst the chaos of war-torn streets, Simon "Ghost" Riley moved with the silence and grace of a specter. Clad in his iconic mask and tactical gear, he was a figure feared by enemies and revered by allies. His mission was clear: to bring justice to those who sought to spread terror.

Among his comrades, there was one who stood out - Y/n, a fierce warrior with a heart of gold. She was as skilled as she was compassionate, a rare combination in their line of work. Ghost and Y/n had fought side by side through countless battles, their bond forged in the crucible of conflict.

As they navigated the urban labyrinth, gunfire erupted from all sides. Ghost and Y/n moved swiftly, their movements synchronized in a deadly dance. But in the heat of battle, tragedy struck. A bullet meant for Ghost found its mark on Y/n.

Time seemed to slow as Ghost watched in horror as the woman fell, her body crumbling to the ground. In that moment, everything around him faded into oblivion. All that existed was Y/n, lying wounded at his feet.

Rushing to her side, Ghost tore off his mask, revealing the anguish etched upon his face. "Y/n!" he cried, his voice filled with desperation.

Y/n struggled to speak, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. "Go…," she whispered, her voice barely a whisper. "Finish… the mission."

But Ghost refused to leave her side. "No," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I won't leave you."

With trembling hands, Ghost applied pressure to Y/n's wound, trying in vain to stem the flow of blood. But he knew in his heart that it was too late. The light in the womans eyes was fading, her strength waning with each passing moment.

"Baby, please," Ghost pleaded, his voice breaking. "Stay with me."

Y/n managed a weak smile, reaching out to touch Ghost's face. "I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "But I couldn't let you… die."

Tears welled in Ghost's eyes as he realized the sacrifice his lover had made for him. She had taken the bullet meant for him, willing to give her life to save his own.

"You're a hero, Y/n," Ghost whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I'll never forget you."

With one final breath, the wounded soldier closed her eyes, her hand slipping from Ghost's grasp. And in that moment, the world grew dimmer, as if a part of Ghost's soul had been extinguished along with hers.

As Ghost cradled Y/n's lifeless body in his arms, he made a vow to honor her memory. He would continue to fight, to protect those who couldn't protect themselves, in Y/n's name. And though she may be gone, her spirit would live on in every battle he fought, a guiding light in the darkness.

For Y/n was more than just a comrade. She was a friend, a sister-in-arms, and a true hero. And though she may have fallen, her sacrifice would never be forgotten.

a/n: sorry lovies, been quiet for a while 💙 hope u like this one!

simon will absolutely spoil his s/o. that pretty gucci bag at the boutique they couldnt lay their eyes off? The next day they get it as a present. the beautiful pearl necklace at the jewelry that costs more than one can imagine? simon buys it. he loves to see hiss/o smile and be happy, it makes him happy and thats how everything should be.

simon riley will choke you

Hello everyone! My inbox is open! What I do and my rules are on my pinned post! I'm not that strict, and I'm actually pretty desperate for literally any requests.

Acima das Ruínas | Quatro

Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader masterlist In a world devastated by chaos and the threat of the undead, two destinies intertwine in an unexpected way. Ghost, a hardened ex-military man haunted by the horrors of war, encounters [reader], a lost and desolate young woman. With his experience and determination, Ghost decides to help her, and together they embark on a dangerous journey in search of a refugee center. notes: English is not my first language, and I initially wrote this fanfic in Portuguese. With the help of online resources, I rewrote it in English.

Three - Five

"Okay. I'll find another one!" [_] said with teary eyes, grabbed her knife, and headed towards the entrance door. She knew she had made a mistake, but she didn't think Ghost would get so angry about it. It's not like she was to blame – that zombie caught her off guard, and the same could have happened to Ghost, right? She wanted to believe that, but she knew it wasn't true. Ghost was too careful and skilled to make such a silly mistake. She was angry at everything and just wanted to quickly find another communicator.

The girl walked for a few minutes, sneaking between cars and buildings. Going in and out of stores in search of a working communicator, not some toy that barely functioned two meters away. Now she understood why Ghost had gotten so angry – finding a radio that could communicate on different channels wasn't easy. She also didn't consider that she probably wouldn't find a military communicator casually for sale in some random corner store.

The zombies didn't seem to have great eyesight; they relied more on noise and smell, except for the one at the house. That one was different. Its sense of smell was undoubtedly better than the others', and it was ridiculously fast.

After a few more steps, she decided to rest and find something to eat. There was a small market with only two zombies around. She sneaked up behind one of them, who was near a car, caught him off guard, and slit his throat. The other one, a bit further away, seemed to notice and turned towards the girl.

She walked slowly towards the market's entrance while the other zombie moved towards its now-dead companion. She felt bad for a moment; it was difficult to kill them, knowing that they were once people with their whole lives ahead of them. What had their lives been like before all of this? Did they have spouses, partners, children? Their pets safe inside their homes, still waiting for them to return?

This world was being cruel to all of them. In the end, everyone just wanted to survive – the zombies, the uninfected people. With her thoughts in chaos, [_] reached the entrance of the little market and entered with a loud thud of the door.

Like any other food-selling store, this one was completely destroyed. People went crazy at the beginning of the virus outbreak. They stormed into places in search of food, intending to return home, thinking all their family members were safe, only to find their spouse devouring their children.

The girl walked slowly amidst the mess, trying to find something edible when she heard a noise. She walked slowly towards the sound, already holding her knife and ready to put all of Ghost's teachings into practice.

Hearing the noise again, [_] turned around quickly, coming face to face with a tall man – not as tall as Ghost, but still tall – pointing a gun at her. He had a mohawk and wore military clothes.

"Lower the knife," he commanded.

"Lower the gun first. I don't want trouble, I'm just looking for supplies," she tried to sound confident.

"What's your name?" the man asked, lowering the gun after seemingly pondering for a few minutes.

"[__], and yours?"

"Soap." Soap? What a strange name. Wait…

"Soap? Like Soap from the military?" she asked, surprised. It couldn't be the Soap that Ghost had talked about, could it?

"I'm famous, and I didn't even know it?" he asked, laughing.

"I met one of your teammates." Ghost would be surprised by this. The girl was now excited. Still upset about how Ghost had reacted to her mistake, but if that hadn't happened, they wouldn't have encountered Soap.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. Ghost, you know, the guy with the mask."

"What. This must be a dream. Where is he?" he said, now completely excited and relieved.

"He's in a house not far from here."

"And why aren't you with him now?" he seemed suspicious.

"We had a fight. I lost his communication radio, and he got really mad. Now I need to find it, but I haven't found any, and I don't think I will." She said, defeated.

"It's not easy to find a military radio in regular stores. Luckily…" he raised an identical radio to Ghost's.

"Oh my God. Ghost won't kill me anymore. I mean… you'll lend it to us, right?"

"Of course. Take me to where he is. He must be looking for Price to find the sanctuary."

"Yes. That's why."

"Ghost can be tough sometimes, but he's a good man. So, did he talk a lot about me?" Soap chuckled.

"He said you were a good friend," she said, laughing.

"Really? Well, it seems that all of this situation has softened the heart of the enigmatic Ghost," Soap said, smiling.

"Ghost," [_] shouted as soon as she entered the house.

"I hope you found another radio," he said, coming out of the kitchen with his weapon still hanging, looking angry.

"Better than that," the girl said, laughing, making Ghost raise an eyebrow.

"Hey, Ghost. Long time no see!" Soap entered cheerfully.

"No way. You're alive?" Ghost seemed to be laughing judging by the position of his eyes.

"Of course I am. This beautiful lady recognized me." Ghost looked somewhat indifferent. Her heart stung a little; he was still mad. "I hope you spoke well of me to such a pretty lady," he said, winking at her.

"Don't start, Soap."

"What? It's not every day we see such a beautiful lady, especially in the situation we're in. Or… oh my God, you two are a thing."

"It's not…" [_] tried to speak.

"Yes, we are. Now stop showering her with your charms." She might faint now. So, they were a thing? Her heart felt like it was about to burst out of her chest.

"Okay, okay. Only a pretty face like that could win over our Ghost," Soap teased, provoking.

"Ghost, he has a communication radio that we can use. Sorry for destroying the other one."

"It's okay. I should apologize to you for getting so angry when it wasn't even your fault. I know you did your best back there. I'm proud of you," he seemed to laugh.

"Thank you, but I also had the best teacher, and without that, I wouldn't have found Soap."

Night fell, and a small fire was set up in the middle of the room while a can of soup heated up.

The girl leaned against Ghost, whose arm was around her smaller body. Soap stirred the soup and cracked lame uncle jokes, but it lightened the mood. He also didn't hide mischievous glances at Ghost and [_], receiving disapproving looks from the latter. It was good to have another person around, and Soap was quite entertaining.

"So… how did you two meet?" Soap asked curiously.

"I found her almost dead in a forest," Ghost replied nonchalantly.

"Hey! I wasn't almost dead," she said, giving a dirty look to the older man.

"No? You could barely walk."

"It's not easy to survive alone without any weapons, you know."

"I know. I'm just teasing you. You did a great job for someone who didn't even

know how to stab someone."

"So, Ghost was your savior?"

"In a way, yes. I can't deny that if it wasn't for him, I probably would have died or turned into a zombie."

"We decided to come here to try to talk to Price, but we couldn't, and then the radio accident happened," Ghost said.

"I get it. I managed to talk to him about two weeks ago."

"Where are they? Are they all okay?" Ghost asked, trying not to show his anxiety.

"Yes, they are. They're on a mountain, but I don't know the exact location. The conversation got cut off when Price was about to give more information."

"Damn."

After the soup was warm, they ate, then went to the second floor of the house.

"There are two bedrooms. I'll stay with [_] in one; you can take the other, Soap."

While [_] wasn't there, Ghost cleaned the rooms as much as possible for them to settle in. They were initially going to clean just one, but he thought she wouldn't want to sleep with him because of the fight, so he ended up cleaning both. Luckily.

"Alright, folks. See you tomorrow. Don't make too much noise." Soap said, making both their cheeks burn.

"Shut up, Soap," Ghost said, pulling the girl to the other room and locking the door.

"Don't mind him."

"Okay. I liked him… Ghost, sorry again for what happened earlier. I know I wasn't careful enough…"

"You don't need to apologize. I should be the one apologizing. I shouldn't have let my anger control me, and I should have gone after you. I was irresponsible," he said, holding her face in his hands, lightly running his thumb over her cheeks and looking into her eyes [eye color].

[_]'s heart raced; Ghost's deep green eyes seemed to be peering into her soul. She had to tilt her face due to his greater height. His fingers were rough with slight calluses, but they were perfect nonetheless. As his hands met hers on her face, Ghost leaned in, kissing her fiercely. Their tongues danced, and the need grew stronger. Ghost's hands left her face and moved to her waist, gently squeezing it, causing the younger woman to gasp and deepen the kiss even more. The room seemed to get warmer, her whole body craving Ghost. She ran her fingers through his overgrown hair, causing him to lightly grip her waist and butt. Both of them were drowning deeper into desire.

"We should stop. This isn't the right place or time," he said, still giving small kisses to her parted lips.

"I need you so much," [_] said, seeking the older man's mouth with desire.

"I know, beautiful girl. But we can't. I promise I'll make it up to you once we're safe," he said, ending it with a kiss and guiding her to the bed. They embraced and kissed the entire night. They couldn't imagine going through all of this without each other. They were each other's safe haven.

Above the Ruins | Six

Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader

masterlist

In a world devastated by chaos and the threat of the undead, two destinies intertwine in an unexpected way. Ghost, a hardened ex-military man haunted by the horrors of war, encounters [reader], a lost and desolate young woman. With his experience and determination, Ghost decides to help her, and together they embark on a dangerous journey in search of a refugee center.

notes: English is not my first language, and I initially wrote this fanfic in Portuguese. With the help of online resources, I rewrote it in English.

Five - Seven

"We're at Alcântara Base…"

I heard a voice coming from the communication radio Soap had brought along with him, accompanied by the two men who seemed like kids who had just received the best gift of their lives…

"Is it just you two?"

"No. Ghost has a girl" Soap says, smiling as he looks at Ghost.

"That's great, guys! If possible, I'd like to speak with her…"

Descending the rest of the stairs, I approach the radio.

"Sir?"

"Please, no formalities… What's your name?"

"[name]"

"Alright. [name], you're with two of my best soldiers. I want you to trust them and yourself. The way here is compromised… lots of undead roaming around, but we're managing to keep the survivors safe."

"Are there many survivors?" Soap asks.

"About 2,000 here, but more keep coming. We're getting a higher number than expected. We're also in contact with other shelters and the numbers are looking good. I'm hopeful."

"That's great, Captain" Ghost compliments.

For the first time in years, I felt hopeful. Just a bit more and we'd be closer to some semblance of the life we had before.

I looked at Ghost, smiling in relief, and he seemed to reciprocate through his eyes.

✧˖°₊

"According to Price, the best route is through here," Ghost points to a spot on the map.

"Do we have enough ammunition?" Soap asks.

"I hope so… we don't have much choice. We have food, weapons, and water. We'll leave in two days. Rest as much as you can!" he orders.

I sat on a couch farther away, feeling useless at these times.

"What are you thinking?" Ghost approaches, asking as Soap heads upstairs to shower.

"To be honest, I'm scared and hopeful. It's hard to explain."

"I understand. It's been years of loneliness and confusion, hasn't it? And now it seems like everything is falling into place and that everything will be resolved," he says as I nestle into his chest, listening to his heartbeat and smelling his scent.

"I'm afraid of not making it to the shelter, of not being useful on the way, and putting us in danger."

"[name], don't worry so much. You were trained by the best, remember?" I feel his chest move with what sounds like a laugh.

"Smartass."

"But I'm serious. We'll make it, you'll see. Soap is a great soldier too, we'll protect you and help you if we think it's too much for you. But you were really good in training, you'll be a great help, you'll see."

"I hope so…" I sigh, snuggling even closer to his warmth.

After a while, we returned to the room, and Ghost went to shower. He returned without his mask and with wet hair.

He was arranging some things in the closet while I sat on the bed, admiring him. Ghost had a very masculine appearance. Sharp jawline, straight nose, and mouth with some scars. Not to romanticize what he went through, but they made him even more handsome.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"You're handsome."

"Do you think so?" he asked, laughing and lying down on top of me.

"Yes, I do," I laugh, kissing him.

"We'll get through this. You'll see," he said, giving me one last kiss and then pulling me into his embrace.

✧˖°₊

[Ghost]

I wake up and go downstairs to find Soap.

"Good morning, LT!"

"Good morning, Sergeant!"

"Is the girl still asleep?"

"Yes. She's worried, and to be honest, so am I."

Ghost rubs his hand on his covered face and sits down.

"I don't know what to do, Jhonny."

"Did you teach her how to shoot?" Soap asks, sitting next to the lieutenant while offering him soup.

"No. I didn't have many bullets."

"Look, I have an airsoft gun. I think I can teach her with it if you allow me. Of course," he chuckles sarcastically.

"Sure, Jhonny. You have my permission," Ghost says, laughing.

"I'll respect you and your girl, LT. Don't worry."

"I never expected anything less from you, Sergeant," Ghost said, joining in the banter. "Why do you have a toy gun?"

"I thought it might come in handy at some point. I was right," he said, laughing and grabbing the gun.

✧˖°₊

"It's not hard, miss. Just aim a bit higher than what you want…"

Then [name] shoots with the toy gun.

"Why isn't it hitting the target? I don't understand," I hear [name] say, and I laugh at her impatience.

"You're not keeping your hand steady. When you shoot, your hand moves out of position and misses the target. Keep your hand steadier."

"I see…" then she shoots again, closer to the target this time.

"Good job, miss!" Soap praises her as they high-five. "Now try shooting farther. This gun is a toy, but it simulates a real one quite well. Don't worry, it won't be much different."

Then she shoots and hits one of the cups farther away on the table, letting out an excited squeal.

"Did you see that, Ghost?" she asks, looking at me.

"You're doing great, pretty girl," I compliment, making her smile even bigger.

After a few shots, her aim was even better.

"I think you're ready, miss."

"Thank you for helping me, Soap. It means a lot to me," she says, giving Soap a friendly hug.

"No need to thank me, [name]," he says, returning the hug.

"Now, both of you need to rest. We'll leave the day after tomorrow, don't forget!" I interrupt, handing them the soup I heated while they were busy.

"Thank you, Ghost," Madison thanks, and Soap gives a thumbs-up, already devouring his food.

"I'll leave one of my guns with you, [name]. Only use it as a last resort. Let's try to use knives first," I say, making both of them nod.

"So, is the shelter far?" [name] asks, taking a generous spoonful of soup.

"About 5 days on foot, but it might take us longer. We'll find out…"

"Wouldn't it be better by car?" she asks.

"No doubt, but it's too risky to find a car around here."

"Yeah. You're right."

"Let's try not to dwell on the problems, guys," Jhonny interrupts. "Let's try to be… positive? Yeah, I think that's the word," he says thoughtfully, running his hand through his tousled hair. "I have a story to tell you, miss."

"Go ahead," she says, smiling.

"Well. Before all this craziness started, when we were still living our fucked-up lives, but not as fucked up as now," he says, making us laugh, "we liked to go to a bar after difficult missions. It was good for distraction. Our big guy here would attract the attention of pretty girls."

Jhonny spoke, laughing, and [nome] narrowed her eyes at me, making me laugh.

"Once, a tall brunette came over to try to get a piece of our LT, and he just stared at her. It was scary, and the poor girl was getting more embarrassed by the minute," he laughed loudly. "She looked around, scratched her neck, and Ghost looked at her as if he were seeing all her sins."

"It wasn't like that," I tried to defend myself.

"Of course it was, LT. I bet the girl never approached anyone after that," he continued laughing.

I looked at [nome], and she was laughing uncontrollably, twisting in a strange way. It was good to see them more at ease and with less worry.

"I just didn't want anything with her…"

"That's why you looked into that woman's soul?" Jhonny asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Then I'm special, Lieutenant," [nome] calling me by that name did things to me.

"You are. Believe me, miss. Who would've thought we'd need a damn zombie apocalypse for our old Ghost to find someone. Destiny is indeed strange."

"Shut up, Jhonny," I said, making them laugh.

"And you, miss? Tell us something about your life."

"Let me think… I was studying nursing when this happened. I was going into my second year."

"Wow. So you were very young when this happened, how old are you now?"

"I'm 23. I was 19 when it all started. Unfortunately, college didn't help me survive here, since I hadn't learned procedures yet."

"Do you plan to return to nursing when things get back to normal? Or at least close to normal?"

"Yes. Now, more than ever. All of this taught me that anything can happen, and we need to be prepared for everything."

✧˖°₊

[One day until the journey to the shelter]

We would leave tomorrow. Things were already packed. Spare clothes in [nome]'s backpack; extra weapons and ammunition with Jhonny; food, water, blankets, and first aid items with me. Each of us also had a silenced gun and ammunition.

It was already night, and we were all ready. We rested on the couches while going over the plans.

"We'll go this way," I pointed on the map. "Price said it's the best. We'll go in a line, me first, [nome] next, and Soap following."

"Okay," they nodded.

"We'll walk as far as possible and then take turns to stand guard while the others sleep. I'll take my turn and [nome]'s."

"What?" she exclaimed.

"It's safer this way."

"Ghost, I want to help too. I don't want to sleep while you two keep watch."

"Jhonny and I will take turns. We're used to getting by with little sleep. It'll be better this way."

"I want to be useful and help too, but it seems like you're taking everything away from me. When a damn zombie shows up, will you shoot for me too?"

"Ghost, the girl can take care of herself. Give her a chance," Soap interrupted me before I could retort what [nome] said, making me shoot him a glare.

"Alright, but I don't like this idea."

"I understand, Lieutenant. But the bird won't learn to fly if you don't give it freedom. Nothing will happen to her. As the captain said, she's not only with two of the best soldiers, but she's also trained by them," Soap said arrogantly, making us exchange fist bumps.

"Sure," I said sarcastically, watching [nome] thank them and both of them fist-bumping.

Above the Ruins | Eight

Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader

masterlist

In a world devastated by chaos and the threat of the undead, two destinies intertwine in an unexpected way. Ghost, a hardened ex-military man haunted by the horrors of war, encounters [reader], a lost and desolate young woman. With his experience and determination, Ghost decides to help her, and together they embark on a dangerous journey in search of a refugee center.

notes: English is not my first language, and I initially wrote this fanfic in Portuguese. With the help of online resources, I rewrote it in English.

Seven - Nine

"Damn it. Swim, Sergeant!" Ghost shouted, starting to swim against the current.

I let go of his arm and also began to try swimming. The river was wide, and the shore seemed far away. The current pulled us more and more. The thoughts of giving up and letting the water take me were overwhelming. My arms ached along with my legs, my lungs burned from lack of air, and my skin trembled, craving warmth.

It felt like an endless battle we weren’t going to win. We were just meters from the waterfall, and not knowing its height terrified me. The sound of rushing water was loud, and I wondered how we hadn’t heard it sooner.

Ghost and Soap were fighting just as hard as I was. Soap was farther ahead, with a look of total panic when his body disappeared, being sucked by the water that fell into God knows where. With a scream, I was pulled under shortly after.

The fall felt infinite, and my heart was on fire. My body didn’t hurt, but my mind did. It was a constant thought of ‘I don’t want to die.’

The thoughts stopped when my body hit the water, the fall snapping me out of the trance. Startled, I saw a larger body falling beside me, and I quickly swam upwards, realizing it was Ghost next to me, while Soap was farther ahead, with a pained expression.

"Are you guys okay?" I asked, breathing heavily.

"My ankle hurts, I think I hit a rock when I fell," Soap said.

I swam towards him, helping him to the surface and guiding him to rest on the riverbank where we had fallen. Ghost emerged shortly after, throwing his backpack on the ground and approaching us.

"Let me see," he said, kneeling beside us and removing Soap’s boot. "It's swelling. Probably a sprain, we’ll need to immobilize it."

"I think we have bandages in the backpack," I said, opening Ghost's pack, where we’d stored the first aid supplies. "They’re wet, but they'll work."

"Help me here…" I held Soap’s leg as he groaned in pain. The larger man firmly wrapped the bandage around Soap's ankle, tying a tight knot.

"Damn it. This is going to be a problem," Soap said, trying to stand and groaning in pain.

"Nothing we haven’t handled before. [Name], I hate to say this, but you’ll have to lead the way. Take point, Sergeant."

This was my chance.

"Sure, Lieutenant."

I headed into the forest, with Ghost helping Soap to walk behind me. We moved in silence, listening carefully to every little sound. The tension was high, and the desire to prove myself even higher.

"We'll keep going in this direction until we find a good spot to camp. We're not far from the city, but Soap needs to rest," Ghost said quietly, and I nodded.

After a while of walking, I spotted a slightly flatter area, with few roots on the ground and some leaves.

"Good spot!" Ghost praised, helping Soap sit near a tree.

"What a shitty situation," Soap said, frustrated with himself.

"Relax, Soap. Try to rest as much as you can, Ghost and I will handle the rest."

"Sure, ma’am," he said, laughing as he leaned against the tree.

Ghost and I started setting up the camp and preparing our lunch.

Unfortunately, the river wasn’t what we’d hoped, and Soap's situation slowed us down since the plan was to reach the next city before nightfall. But I knew there was no point in being pessimistic about the situation; things happen as they need to happen. Maybe this happened for a reason? Maybe if we had arrived earlier in the city, things would have been worse. I tried to see the bright side of it all. There was no use being pessimistic in these circumstances, and in the reality we lived in, we were constantly doomed to danger, and sooner or later, this was bound to happen.

While Ghost opened the soup cans, I started hanging up our wet belongings.

"Soap, give me your jacket, please. I’ll hang our clothes to dry."

"Thanks, [Name]," he said, handing me his jacket.

Seeing what I was doing, Ghost quickly removed his jacket and handed it to me. I smiled at him, noticing his eyes narrowing under the mask.

The sun was still warm, but it didn’t seem like nightfall would take long. I hung our jackets and the things that got wet in the backpack on a nearby tree, with the sun shining directly on them.

"[Name], your food," Ghost handed it to me, and I saw that Soap was already eating.

We ate in silence, with only the sounds of birds and the warmth of the sun, which was perfect after a river 'bath.'

"We need to be careful. It’s going to be hard crossing the city with Soap like this, and waiting for his ankle to heal is risky. Our food won’t last."

"So, what are we going to do?" I asked, looking at him. Soap was also looking at him.

"The same thing we did to get here. You’ll go ahead. Very carefully, understood?" he said, emphasizing the "very carefully."

"Sure, Lieutenant," I said, laughing, finding his concern endearing.

"[Name]! I’m serious!" he said sternly. "There will be many more of them in the city. Soap and I will be compromised. You’re good, but you’re still inexperienced. They could catch us off guard…"

"They won’t, Ghost. I’ll be careful."

"Good."

✧˖°₊

We rested until nightfall, Soap half-asleep against the tree, and I leaned against Ghost as he fiddled with my hand, noticing every detail. We stayed mostly quiet, just enjoying the peace.

After everything dried, we packed everything back into our backpacks, and at night we took turns sleeping.

The next day, I woke up feeling the sun on my face. I opened my eyes, noticing Ghost was already up.

"Good morning!" I said, getting up.

"Good morning!" he replied, walking towards me, hugging me, and kissing my forehead over the mask. I smiled at his gesture.

"I don’t think I ever asked about your family," I said to Ghost as I started helping him break down the camp.

"It was a… difficult family. A lot happened. I had a younger brother, we lived with my mom and dad. My dad was a drunk who beat the three of us," he said with empty eyes, and I instantly regretted asking. "When I turned 17, he passed away, and when I became an adult, I joined the army. My brother got married and now has a kid," it seemed like a sensitive topic for him.

"Where were they when this happened?"

"His wife and kid were at home, he was at work. I haven’t heard from them since. As for my mom, she became one of them."

"My God… I’m so sorry," I said, getting closer to him.

"It’s hard. I just wanted her to have a good life. After I started earning my own money, I tried to give her everything she never had: love, a comfortable life, a little house just the way she wanted and deserved… I hope it was enough to make up for the hell she went through with my dad."

"I’m sure it was, Ghost. She must have been so proud of you."

"I hope so… Anyway, what about you? Do you know where yours was?"

"No. In fact, I never knew."

"What do you mean?"

"I was left by my mother for adoption as soon as I was born. I never met her."

"So, you lived in an orphanage?"

"Yes. I lived there my whole life until I became of age. After that, I was practically kicked out. Luckily, I passed the university entrance exam and got a 100% scholarship. I stayed in the dorms until all this happened."

"That must have been hard."

"It was very lonely. I couldn’t make many friends."

"You didn’t feel like you belonged there, did you?" he said as if reading me.

"Exactly. It was weird. It seemed like everyone had plans for the end of the year, for the holidays, for the weekend, except me," I said as we packed the last of the camp, with only Soap's things left, as he still slept with his mouth slightly open.

"I know a bit of what that feels like," he said, seeming not to want to continue the subject.

✧˖°₊

After waking Soap up, Ghost adjusted his bandages and helped him stand.

"Here’s the map," he said, handing it to me and helping me put on my backpack. "We need to move faster today. We must reach the city before nightfall to have time to find shelter."

"Alright."

Ghost helped Soap with his backpack and supported him as they started walking."