PART 3/4 - Ghost x Reader
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notes: I’m still a newbie so bare with me pls, slowbuuurn, portrayal of violence tw (blood, weapons, injuries etc.), will contain smut in part 4 so beware lol
Days passed, and Simon found himself settling into the monotony of life outside the infirmary. Each day felt a little duller, a little quieter. A little emptier without you.
He tried to keep himself busy - buried himself in reports, spent hours at the training, and even managed to crack open a book. But no matter what he did, his mind always wandered back to you. Your voice, your grin, the way you had this infuriating ability to make him feel seen.
Sitting at a table in the mess hall, he caught the faint sound of footsteps behind him. His instincts kicked in, and without thinking, his hand shot out, catching the wrist reaching for his shoulder.
“Damn brat,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough beneath the mask. But his eyes told a different story. They softened, just a fraction, betraying the satisfaction of knowing you were there.
You didn’t even flinch, of course. You just grinned, ever unbothered, and slid into the seat beside him, your smirk firmly in place. “So, how’s my favorite grouch doing?”
He released your wrist, reluctant to let go, and scowled as you settled in. “Still alive,” he grumbled, poking at his stew. “And if you call me a grouch one more time, I’ll throw you out the nearest window.”
You laughed lightly, leaning over your bowl of soup. “I missed you, you know?” The words caught him off guard, making him pause mid-bite. For a split second, his mask of indifference slipped, his hand tightening around his spoon.
“Tch,” he muttered, quickly recovering. His voice was gruff, but the usual bite wasn’t there. “Missed pissing me off, you mean.“ You just grinned wider. “That too.. Cap said we’re teaming up for the next mission. That leg healed yet?”
“Leg’s fine,” he replied with a shrug, the words clipped. “Good as new.” But you gave him a knowing look, a hum escaping your lips as you leaned back slightly. He knew you didn’t believe him, and it annoyed him how easily you could see through him. Still, he wasn’t about to admit anything. Not now. Not to you.
The day of the mission came. The sun had already set by the time the chopper landed to pick you up and drop you near the target location. The quiet hum of the rotors was the only sound in the otherwise still night.
Simon masked his limp as best he could while you approached the safe house, cursing himself silently. He didn’t want you worrying, but he knew better. You’d see right through him.
Inside, the safe house was dimly lit, the faint glow of a single desk lamp casting long shadows over the weapons and gear laid out with military precision. He felt your gaze on him as you both settled in, watching his every move. His shoulders tensed, and his jaw clenched. Finally, he turned to face you, his eyes narrowing. “What?” he grunted, his voice defensive. You just shook your head, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Nothing,” you murmured, your tone casual but knowing.
The faint clicks of buckles and straps filled the room as body armor was secured. You slid a suppressor onto your pistol with practiced ease, holstering it at your thigh. “Two guards at the entrance,” you murmured, glancing toward Simon.
He nodded, already geared up, his fingers toying with the edge of his Kabar knife. His expression remained impassive as he twirled the blade with effortless precision. “We go in quiet,” he said, his voice firm. “I’ll handle the guards. We secure the hostage and get out. No mistakes.” You gave a small nod, your smirk faint but unmistakable. “No mistakes,” you echoed, your tone laced with a trace of excitement he knew all too well.
The two of you moved out, the darkness wrapping around you like a second skin. Through night vision, the faint green glow of the guards came into view. You hung back as Simon crept forward with deadly precision, dispatching the two guards in quick, fluid movements.
“I know that’s right, LT,” you muttered into the comms, unable to keep the grin off your face. He scoffed, his voice crackling through your earpiece. “Shut it, smartass.” There was annoyance in his tone, but it couldn’t mask the faint edge of amusement.
With a swift kick, Simon moved one of the unconscious guards out of the way and gestured to you. His eyes flicked over your face, just long enough to ensure you were ready. “Coast is clear,” he said, already moving forward with practiced ease.
The both of you moved through the building, sticking to the shadows and carefully navigating the blind spots you had mapped out beforehand. Every step was measured, every sound muted.
At the end of the hall, you paused, peering around the corner. Your eyes landed on a guard slumped in a chair, his head lolling slightly to the side, likely dozing off. Your expression lit up like a kid on Christmas morning, and you turned to Ghost with a gleam in your eye.
“Can I? Pretty please?” you whispered, your voice barely audible but dripping with excitement. Ghost stared at you, taking in the ridiculous pleading look on your face - that damn look that always managed to get under his skin in a way he couldn’t describe. He let out a quiet sigh, the sound heavy with a mix of annoyance and reluctant fondness.
“Fine,” he muttered, his tone gruff but holding no real edge. “Knock yourself out. Just keep it quiet.” You didn’t need to be told twice. He watched as you moved toward the guard, silent as a shadow. You crept up behind him, your movements confident. Ghost’s eyes narrowed slightly as you tapped the guard on the shoulder.
The man startled awake, his body jerking upright, but before he could do anything else, your pistol was pressed against the back of his head. You winked at him, almost playfully, and then - click. The guard slumped back into the chair, lifeless.
Ghost exhaled, shaking his head in mild exasperation as you strutted back toward him, a wicked grin plastered across your face. You looked every bit like a lunatic - but hell, if it didn‘t do things to him.
“Show-off,” he muttered under his breath, his tone dry as his eyes flicked to the lifeless guard. Your grin only widened at his words, a quiet chuckle slipping past your lips. “You love it,” you teased, your voice smug.
His eyes darted to you briefly, and even under the mask, you could tell your comment had hit home. A slight tension in his shoulders, the way he avoided your gaze - oh, you knew. Heat rose to his cheeks beneath the mask, and he grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, trying and failing to dismiss the truth of your words. Because as much as he hated to admit it, you were absolutely right. He did love it.
As the two of you approached the door where the hostage was likely being held, faint voices could be heard from within. Pressing your backs against the nearby walls, you strained to make out the conversation. You leaned closer and whispered into the comms, “I hear at least three.”
Ghost gave a sharp nod, his mind already running through potential scenarios. His ears strained, searching for any additional noise. “Three? We can handle that,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.
His gaze flicked to you, his sharp eyes assessing your face. He could see the fire in your eyes, the adrenaline coursing through you. “You ready for this?” he asked, his voice tinged with quiet confidence. “Born ready,” you replied, flashing a small smile. Ghost inhaled deeply, steeling himself. He held your gaze for a beat longer, a silent exchange passing between you.
The moment the door opened, the two of you slipped inside like shadows. Your eyes darted around the dimly lit room, taking in every detail. The hostage was tied to a chair, slumped and barely conscious. Three armed guards turned at the sound of the door, their weapons immediately raised.
“Left is mine,” you called out, your body already in motion. You slid to avoid their fire, moving with practiced precision. Your arm locked around the neck of one of the guards, your pistol pressing to his temple. One clean shot later, he crumpled to the ground.
Ghost, meanwhile, closed the distance with ruthless efficiency, his knife finding its mark in the chest of another guard. The blade sank in with a sickening crunch. But as he turned to engage the third enemy, his leg faltered. A sharp jolt of pain shot up from his injury, and he stumbled.
It was a split-second opening, but enough for the remaining guard to take advantage. Ghost barely registered the glint of a knife before the man lunged. You didn’t think - you reacted. Your gun snapped up, three sharp cracks echoing through the room as every bullet landed squarely between the attacker’s eyes. He collapsed in a heap.
But your focus on Ghost cost you. A fourth hostile emerged from the shadows, knife in hand. You didn’t see him until it was too late. The blade bit into your shoulder, a guttural cry tearing from your throat as you staggered back.
Ghost’s world slowed. His breath caught, and rage roared to life in his chest. Without hesitation, he surged forward, pain in his leg forgotten. He slammed the hostile into the wall, his Kabar flashing in the dim light before it sliced cleanly across the man’s throat.
The body dropped with a thud, but Ghost’s attention was already on you. He turned, his eyes locking onto the knife still embedded in your shoulder. Blood seeped through your clothes, pooling faster than he liked.
„You’re hurt,” he muttered, his voice tight with strain. Beneath his stoic mask, his mind was racing, panic bubbling beneath the surface.
But then it twisted into anger. His eyes bore into yours, a sharp glare that made your breath hitch for just a moment. His emotions were a mess - worry, fear, frustration. And the worst of all: guilt. You were hurt because of him.
He stepped closer, his hands clenching into tight fists. “What the hell were you thinking?” he growled, his tone rough, but his voice cracked just enough to betray his emotions. Without waiting for an answer, his hand came to your shoulder.
“What was I thinking?” you snapped back, your hand moving to the hilt of the knife embedded in your flesh. With a grunt, you yanked it out, a strangled noise escaping your throat as you tossed the blade aside. Blood began to seep faster, but you ignored it, glaring at him. “That bastard would’ve sliced you in half if it weren’t for me.“
His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing at your retort. He hated that you were right. He hated even more that you were hurt because if his own failure. The guilt gnawed at him, a relentless ache in the pit of his stomach.
“You’re maddening..” he muttered, frustration seeping into his voice. His fingers lingered near the wound as though he wanted to do something - anything - but he stopped himself, his expression unreadable.
“Let’s just get the hostage and get the hell out of here,” you grumbled, your face twisting in pain. Ripping a strip from your shirt, you started wrapping the wound with trembling hands. “Shit fucking hurts.”
He watched you, his throat tightening as you worked through the pain. Every movement you made, every labored breath you took, made the knot in his chest tighten. He couldn’t shake the image of the knife hitting you, or the sound of your pained cry.
His fists clenched by his sides as he struggled to keep his composure. The anger in his chest wasn’t directed at you anymore - it was aimed squarely at himself.
Ghost took a deep breath, forcing his voice to steady. “Let’s move,” he muttered, turning sharply, his voice gruffer than before to mask the turmoil swirling in his chest. But even as he walked toward the hostage, his mind stayed on you.
Back at the base, you’re ushered into the nurse’s office, her hands working efficiently to clean and patch up the wound. Meanwhile, Ghost stood off in the corner, arms crossed, radiating a dark, brooding energy. His sharp eyes followed every movement like a hawk, his posture stiff with tension.
You couldn’t help the faint softening of your expression as you glanced at him. “Stop glowering, it’s not your fault,” you said quietly. You knew he’d take that comment the wrong way, and sure enough, his jaw clenched, the scowl under his mask somehow deepening.
“Tsk,” was all he gave in response, a sharp, dismissive sound that made the nurse flinch slightly.
The room was silent save for the soft rustle of gauze and the occasional clink of medical tools. The nurse’s hands trembled faintly, clearly uneasy under Ghost’s piercing gaze. She finished her work quickly, muttering instructions to you in a hushed voice. “Make sure you come back tomorrow so I can change the bandage.”
You nodded, offering her a small, reassuring smile. “Yes, ma’am.” Before you could add anything more, Ghost spoke, his gruff voice cutting through the air. “I’ll make sure she does.” The nurse glanced between the two of you, clearly eager to escape the room. She gave a quick nod before scurrying off, leaving you alone with the looming figure of your Lieutenant.
You let out a quiet huff of laughter, that signature smirk sliding back into place as you hopped off the bed and grabbed your jacket. “That so? You worried about me, LT?” His lips twitched, just barely betraying the smallest hint of amusement. “Not worried,” he muttered, shifting his weight slightly, arms still crossed. “Just making sure you don’t cause more trouble.”
You slipped your jacket on carefully, wincing slightly at the ache in your shoulder but hiding it well. “Aye, sir,” you teased, followed by a wink. He gave an exaggerated eye roll in response. His gruff mutter followed you out of the office, his voice low but just loud enough for you to hear. “Damn nuisance.”
You could feel the weight of his presence behind you as the two of you made your way back to the quarters. Despite the lingering tension in the air, a smirk tugged at your lips. Tilting your head back slightly, you threw him a teasing glance. “You’re gonna be my shadow now, LT?”
Simon let out a low chuckle, his steps slowing as he fell into a more relaxed stride. “Something like that,” he muttered, his voice rough but tinged with amusement.
When your pace faltered and your expression softened, he stopped too, his gaze sharpening. “You do know it’s not your fault, right?” you said, your tone firm but gentle. ”Seriously, Simon, I don’t want you to beat yourself up over this..“ He stiffened, your words, and the sound of his name on your lips. “Not my fault?” he repeated, his voice gruff. “I got sloppy. You paid the price.”
“Accidents happen,” you said firmly, cutting off his guilt. “I’m fine.” Letting out a heavy sigh, he dragged a hand down the back of his neck, the tension in his shoulders easing, if only slightly. “You are alright, aren’t you?” he asked, the faint rasp in his voice softening the gruffness. Your lips curved into a small smile, your voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “I’m alright, I promise.”
For a moment, neither of you moved. His hands twitched at his sides, the urge to reach out and touch you nearly overwhelming. He hated how much he wanted to. His fingers curled into tight fists as he forced himself to hold back.
“You better be,” he muttered, his eyes searching yours, lingering there for just a second too long. The tension between you hung heavy, thickening the air around you. When you finally spoke again, your voice was barely above a whisper. “We should get some rest,” you said, your gaze still fixed on his, the words tinged with an almost reluctant finality.
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, the lump forming there growing tighter. “Goodnight, Simon,” you said softly, the way you said his name sending a faint ache through his chest.
He nodded, his voice hoarse as he mumbled, “Yeah… Night.” But as you turned to leave, the door inching shut behind you, something inside him snapped. His hand moved on instinct, reaching out and catching the door before it could close completely.
(next and last part tmrw and it will be smut so just a heads up lol, thanks for reading)
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