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istg I'd kill for her

A Saving Grace

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2K Warnings: Explicit Language, Violence

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Ever since she had arrived, there had been no complaints from her, even spending so much time around a group of men. Any time someone had asked something of her, it was a quick “Yes sir, I’ll get it done.” With no issue in her tone, and she did, in fact, get it all done with a degree one could only call perfection.

No one seemed to understand her though. She walked with an air of grace, a sun-bright smile lighting up her face, enthusiasm in her voice when she spoke. She kept everyone on the edge of their seats when she talked to them, attention rapt as if they looked away, they’d miss the world. And she was kind. Oh, so kind, and they knew when she played with the young children in the village, helped the elder women carry their laundry and baskets of food. The smile never left her face, the joy never left her voice, the grace never left her soul.

An Angel, they decided she was. The group’s mascot, a beautiful Angel with deadly precision and skill.

Quite a contrast from her call-sign she’d come in with.

Whore.

Their mouths had dropped, eyes wide, disbelief written across their faces, what type of person, let alone a beautiful woman such as herself, would allow anyone to call her Whore. She hadn’t told them. Just that it was what she chose.

Despite going through the SEAL program, she had no real-world combat experience, only the training she’d received at SEAL boot-camp. Simon was inclined to not bring her along, but she insisted.

I won’t get in the way. I’ll provide backup and follow your lead, Lieutenant.

The compound erupted into chaos whenever the alarm sounded, and Simon had cursed their luck as bullets whizzed by. He shouted orders through the comms, go left, go right, stay center, open fire, suppressing fire.

She’d gone left, into a double open ended steel container that had been converted into a lookout. The shock from the carbine caused an ache in her shoulder but she paid it no mind, taking out enemies where she could see them, one even getting too close into Ghost’s blindside. He dropped five feet from the Lieutenant and the man’s head cocked up towards her, and even at this distance, she could see his eyes widen in what she registered as shock. He’d only ever called her by her rank, Ensign. Never regarded her with the term she gave herself. Call him a gentleman, but he knew better than to say something like that, even if it was her call-sign.

Whore! Left!

She turned too late; the carbine knocked from her grip by the man who had at least two heads on her. Her hands went to her sidearm but his were already winding around her throat, lifting her against the metal of the container, a choking gasp escaping what little room was left before all air cut off. The man’s eyes were wild, nothing there, but she saw herself in their reflection, a cornered and caged animal who’s only chance was fight. Rage welled inside her, not fear, only the red-hot, iron rage bubbled through the adrenaline, and she let her arms go slack, no longer digging her fingers into his hands, she gripped the K-Bar in its sheath, yanked it and sunk it into his neck. Those eyes went wide, the craziness of them disappearing in favor of shock before they hazed, and they both dropped.

Her lungs burned, eyes watering as she sucked in air, careful to avoid too much in the situation she needed to not be lightheaded. A noise came from the side, and she pulled her Eagle from its holster, pointing it towards the boot scuff and her eyes met Ghost’s.

Can you move?

Yes sir.

Scrambling, she grabbed her rifle, and nodded.

Ready.

***

She sat on the bench, scratching at the sheet of paper, filling out the report that some of the squad had left behind, a promise to do it another time. A gentle clinking sounded next to her, and she looked over, watching as Ghost sat beside her, a glass in front of him, a bottle of Kentucky between them.

“Pour us a round, yeah?” he murmured, and she obliged, pouring each of them a decent amount; he watched as she picked her glass up first, taking a big sip but not swallowing for a few moments. His eyes met the darkened bruises on her neck. “Feel alright after today’s injuries?”

She swallowed and set the glass down. “Fine. Sergeant Mac—Uh, Soap, gave me some pain cream for them.” A small smile crossed her lips. “I had some in my pack, but I think he was trying to be kind and extend a branch, so who am I to turn it away.”

“Yeah, Soap’s good like that. Hard head, good heart.”

Her smile only grew wider, but it fell as she glanced up as he folded the balaclava above the bridge of his nose and took a sip of his bourbon. Ghost had a scar that started from the edge of his ear down to his lip, almost like someone had scratched him and torn his upper lip in two. The healing was mangled, something she recognized as self-stitching scars.

“Believe it or not, I got this from a cougar.”

She blinked, shock etching her features that turned into confusion then to thought and she quipped, “That’s why they say not to tease older women.”

For the first time since she’d met the Lieutenant, he snorted, a smile etching his features as he muttered, “Good one.”

“Where did it happen?”

“Took a trip to Brazil one day. My luck I ran into one in the wild.”

“Uh huh. Kinda surprised you survived that one.”

“I’m a hard man to kill.”

They fell into an easy silence, both sipping their liquors and she glanced down at the report she had been writing. “Everyone wants to know why, y’know.” She felt his eyes on her. “Why my call-sign is ‘Whore.’ No one knows me here, though I didn’t really expect a bunch of hardened soldiers to know the most prominent models of the times.”

Ghost watched her take her phone out, tap the screen a few times before she laid it down in front of him, allowing him to look over; what he saw surprised him.

Two Time Grand Winner of Miss Universe and Miss Earth Ditches Crown for a Uniform and Rifle As She Enlists In USN!

He took the device, scrolling down the article.

Winner and Model (Y/N) (L/N) (28) tossed her crown and dress aside for a uniform and rank earlier this year as she seemingly dropped from the existence in the runways and stages in May of last year. Little comment has been given from her family, though her tough and endearing, multi-billionaire father (F/N) (L/N) has stated this was not a plan she thought well through. When asked for a comment, a representative from the United States Navy declined, saying that Miss (Y/N) was a part of a greater force and her whereabouts would not be disclosed for her and team’s safety. So far, no one has managed to find where she is but perhaps one day, she’ll return to the spotlight and reclaim her crowns.

Ghost handed her back the phone, and now everything about her, her speech, her mannerisms, the way she carried herself, all made sense. They’d been interacting with a woman who’d grown up in the spotlight ever since she could walk.

No emotion came from her face as she spoke.

“When I was at SEAL training, one of the instructors kind of…took me under his wing. He eventually told me that his wife was a fan of the pageants and knew who I was when he’d mentioned me. Though she knew I couldn’t be coddled, she did ask for him to watch out for me.” She simply gazed at the table. “The others didn’t appreciate the small kindness his gave me at times, simple words of encouragement or a pat on the back. They nicknamed me the ‘The Captain’s Whore.’ I heard it from them, under their breaths as I walked by. But I paid it no mind. I’ve been called far worse from people I loved.”

She stood from the bench and poured herself a hefty amount of the Kentucky into her glass before walking towards one of the windows. “When we graduated, they asked us for call-signs. What did we want to be recognized as?” He saw a smile come across her face, a proud one. “Three guesses on what emotion they all felt when I chose ‘Whore’ as mine.”

Ghost watched her. “Why did you?”

“So they’d have to say it to my face and not behind me back,” she answered, matter-of-factly. “As damning of a word as that can be, I took it from them. I took the power they had in that word, and I made it mine. They’d have to call me something they thought would hurt me, but I saw it in their eyes every time they said it, that I had come out on top. And I did. I was the best in my class. I suspect that’s why Captain Price commissioned me for the 141.”

She turned, a sardonic almost pitied look in her eyes, and Ghost saw the drunken haze starting to crawl into them. “Ironically, I’ve never even had sex with anyone.” Downing the glass in one swig she set it on the windowsill and turned to stare out at the night, watching the few soldiers still outside moving equipment around. “I wasn’t scared today. This was my first real firefight, but I wasn’t scared. Not even when the enemy had me by the throat. I wasn’t afraid. I was angry. Enraged. There was no fear, only intense hatred, and belligerent rage.”

Her breathing calmed. “I should be horrified at myself. I killed people today. I took the lives of men and women who were husbands and wives, who had children and spouses, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, aunts and uncles and cousins, and yet, I don’t feel sadness or regret. I did my job, I took out enemies who were trying to kill myself and my squad-mates. I fought to protect people I cared for. But no matter how righteous my actions were or for what saving grace they were, I should be in tears, and yet…I have none left.”

Ghost saw the reflection of her face in the glass, saw the same dead-eyed yet so filled with pain expression he saw when he looked at himself sometimes.

“He beat all of them out of me years ago,” she simply added, and said no more, silently picking up the glass and setting it back next to his. “I’ll take my leave for this evening, if that’s alright with you, Lieutenant.”

“Simon,” he murmured, and she met his gaze. “Call me Simon.” He stood from the table, gathering both glasses and the bottle in one hand and she had to crane her neck a little to meet his gaze. “And from now on, you’re call-sign is going to change. I’m not calling you something you’re not.”

“You can’t just change my call-sign, sir. That’s not how that works.” He paid it no mind but only stopped when heard, “Oh fine, what are you going to change my call-sign to?”

“Seraph. The highest of them all.”

“Wait, like the angels?” he nodded. “…Why?”

Simon glanced back at her and selfishly blamed the liquor loosening his lips as he murmured, “You. You’re a beautiful and fiercely protective woman with a burning devotion. Can’t think of a better fitting name than Seraph.”

Something flickered in her expression, an ache, a deep, deep ache he knew so well, and she simply dropped her gaze to the floor. “Thank you, Simon.”

“Get some rest, Ensign, we’ve a big day tomorrow.”

Man is hurt and left for dead

He felt her moving even before she started moving, heavy arms wrapping around her waist to pin her against him. She gave a sleepy laugh, trying to untangle herself from him. “Babe, I gotta go pee.”

“Pee later,” he muttered against her neck, already throwing a leg over hers. “Wanna cuddle.”

“Baaaaaaaaabe,” she giggled, trying to no avail to free herself. “I gotta goooooooo.”

“Noooooooo,” he mocked back, burying his head in the pillow. “Stay with me and cuddle”

She dissolved into laughter and resigned herself to her fate. “At least let me roll over so I can see your handsome face.”

There was a moment of stillness. “…Promise you won’t run when I open my arms?”

“I promise!” she chirped. “Scouts honor.”

“Alright,” he agreed, unwinding his arms and legs. “I trust you. You better not break—”

The second, his grip slackened, she bolted, hurtling off the side of the bed and into the bathroom, cackling as he started to groan and whine about, “Being betrayed by his most lovely.”

She returned shortly to see him face down in the bed, still groaning and she crawled onto the mattress, laying on his back as she dug her hands under his chest. “I’m sorry, babe,” she murmured, turning her head to lay on the expanse of his shoulder blades. “I had to go tinkle.”

“You left me.”

“I know,” she pouted, kissing his back. “You had to spend two minutes in bed without me. I’m so sorry.”

“Now you’re mocking me.”

“I do it because I love you.” She squeezed his sides. “C’mon handsome, lemme see you.” He turned his head and gave her a pout. “I love you,” she grinned, and he looked away, a smile turning up the corner of his lips.

“Love you more.”

She rested her head back on his shoulders. “I love you most.”