#cod ghost request

--

To task force 141, Ghost was an anomaly, an enigma. No one really could crack his code or figure him out. Even though he has been on the team for over seven years. The closest anyone has gotten to him was his team member Soap, but even then, Soap barely knew him.

For Godsakes, even his profile didn’t have a picture of him, it was just a blank spot where his face should be.

His teammates really only saw his eyes. They were a deep blue like the ocean. Turbulent, but held all the cards Ghost held. If you figured out what his eyes were conveying, you figured out him.

Looking back at it now, no one ever figured out Ghost, or what his azure eyes were saying. No one on 141, at least.

--

This mission was supposed to be an easy one. In and out. No casualties, no injuries. But things never seem to go to plan. Typical for task force 141.

Even though the team didn’t suffer any casualties, they did suffer quite a few injuries, Ghost being in the worst shape of the lot.

He had two gun shot wounds and a couple of lacerations on his arms and legs. Could be worse, you guess. But honestly looking at the state of him now, you would be shocked he wasn’t already dead, laying in a casket.

This is where you come in. The secret wife, partner of Ghost, aka Simon.

He always kept you hidden away from his world, never wanting to tarnish you red. But sometimes you had to step into his vicious world, tending to him in ways you never wished you had to. You didn’t mind the deep color maroon though. Maybe that’s why you found yourself drawn to Simon, like a moth to a flame.

It usually ended up with you and Simon in your shared home, you tending to his wounds in any way you could. For some reason the man hated hospitals, and avoided them at all costs, so you always tried your best to fix him up.

So, when you got the call from your local hospital that your husband was admitted and currently being operated on, you knew it was bad.

You immediately dropped what you were doing and drove fast to the hospital, hoping to catch Simon right out of surgery.

Your timing was near perfect, because by the time you arrived, and talked to the nurse’s station, he was already tucked away in his room, fast asleep but breathing.

That’s all that mattered - that he was breathing. Slow and steady.

You pull up a chair and take his large hand into yours, already noticing the usual warmth is lost, which makes you grasp his hand even tighter, hoping to transfer some of your warmth to him.

--

It’s hours later when you find yourself waking up. Your neck is sore and cricks as you lift your head. The bright lights of the hospital room cloud your vision for a second before your eyes adjusts.

You notice that you’re still holding Simon’s hand. You must have fallen asleep, your head halfway resting on his forearm and the bed.

When you fully come to, you notice Simon is awake as well, and he’s looking at you with a tenderness you only wish to see every time he comes home to you.

You now notice his thumb is tenderly stroking your knuckles, and he gives your hand a squeeze every once in a while, to signal to you that yes, he’s here, and alive. He’s alright.

“Hey baby.” Your voice carries across the room, travels its short way to Simon, who’s once again looking at you adoringly. His lips upturn slightly, something you wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t solely focused on your husband.

“Before you ask, I’m alright.” His voice is soft, as if he’s trying to pacify you, quell you by the best of his abilities. Even though he’s the one who’s injured, he doesn’t want you to hurt.

He knows you hate it when he has a mission. He pictures you pacing around your shared home, willing him to come back to you, and he hates himself for it.

You let out a sigh, all too familiar with the scene playing out before you.

Now it’s your turn to squeeze his hand.

“I don’t know how many times I can watch you do this to yourself, Simon. Every time you go away, I always prepare myself that you won’t be coming back. And I just- I don’t want to think like that anymore.”

Simon shifts on the bed, “Come here.”

Even though you’re concerned about his injuries, you still settle yourself on the bed with Simon, his arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you down to his chest.

An accustomed position that you’ve missed recently. He’s been gone too long.

His familiar scent pulls you even further into him, and you bask in his warm embrace, only hoping it won’t be ripped away from you anytime soon.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, ok?” You feel him kiss the top of your head, and you tighten your arm that’s wrapped around his torso.

“Besides, you can’t get rid of me that easily, bug.”

 You can feel the smirk that draws up his lips, and you mentally roll your eyes at his statement. He was always so flippant about his life, yet you still can’t help but love him dearly.

You also know he purposefully played the ‘term of endearment’ card, which he knew would make you go easy on him.

You hum against his chest, “We’ll see about that. You know, after you get home, recovered and healthy.”

You just feel his rumble of laughter, and you smile against him. Glad that his humor hasn’t left him despite all the tragedies he’s seen throughout his career. He leaves another kiss atop your head, and his hand comes up to stroke your arm while you stroke his stomach.

You’re so caught up in your moment with Simon, that you don’t notice a pair of familiar light blue eyes watching you both through the glass window of the hospital room door.

They’re eyes that only hold curiosity, wishing to know what they are witnessing.

The owner of said eyes slips away before you or Ghost notice him, and he figures he’ll just have to causally bring it up to his colleague the next time he sees him at the base.

He imagines he’ll say something like, “Didn’t know you had a soft side, Ghosty.” He then pictures the punch Ghost would aim at his bicep, already feeling the phantom pain.

--

But who could blame you? You were a woman in a male dominated field. You had to be serious, had to be cold. Especially in the armed forces. This line of work was just as bad if not worse than the financial sector, you know, with all the finance bros. Actually, it was worse, but just by a hair.

So, due to your highly stressful and sometimes misogynistic job, you liked to let loose, have fun on the weekends. It was really the only time where you could fully relax and let yourself go. Alcohol helped of course. You loved going to clubs, bars, restaurants, hell anywhere really. As long as it helped you forget the week you had, helped you soothe the aches and pains that came with the job.

Surprisingly you found that your internal team, therefore task 141, weren’t such pricks after all. You thought they would be all misogynistic pigs, and treat you worse than their male colleagues. No, you were proven wrong. Something that doesn’t happen often. You were smart after all.

Sooner than later, you found yourself growing fonder of your team, and you considered them your closest friends. You know, big shock. You weren’t expecting your closest friends to be your work buddies as well.

You also sprouted a crush for one of your team members. Who could blame you? He was tall, dark, handsome, and mysterious. Always sporting that black balaclava, only leaving his eyes privy to your vision. You have only seen him without his signature mask a few times, most of them being when he was drunk, and out with the team.  

But who doesn’t like intrigue?

Fast forward to this Friday. You found that Friday is your favorite day to go out. You realized that you still have all of Saturday to relax, sleep, and recover and then it’s Sunday. The dreadful day in which work starts the next.

So here you were, getting ready to do out tonight with 141. You typically styled your hair your favorite way, did a full glam of make-up, and pre-gamed to make sure you would be a solid drunk by the time you had at least one drink at the bar. This was your time to shine, to have fun for once. You weren’t going to pass it up. Hence, your lovely make-up and outfits that made any jaw drop to the floor.

By the time you were finished getting ready, you felt a slight buzz in your system, and you felt good, felt pretty. You were ready for a night out. Specifically, you were ready for a night out with Ghost.

You found it much, much easier to talk to the intimidating guy when you were slightly buzzed, or better yet, drunk. Was it healthy? Probably not. But who’s perfect, right?

Even though you were a force to be reckon with yourself, the man still intimated you. Maybe it was because of the feelings that started developing in the pits of your stomach. You couldn’t help it when your heart clenched every time you saw him, or every time his blue eyes met your own.

It was getting bad, and you were worried it was going to start to effect your performance at work, which was unacceptable.

So, what do you do to deal with all these feelings? You drink of course!

Hey, you’re still in your twenties, it’s a pass.

You get a text from Soap in the GM that your guys’ uber is at your place. It was decided that you would ride with Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.

You saw the uber in front of your building, so you made your way to the back seat. You figured that Ghost would be in the front, so you open the door and tease, “Gaz, you need to take the middle seat because you’re the shortest out of all of us.”

However, you weren’t met with Gaz’s chocolate eyes when you swung open the door. No, you were met with Ghost’s large frame, and confused expression as you mistakenly talk to him instead of Gaz.

“You want me to sit in the middle?” Ghost points a finger at himself.

You hear Gaz snicker from the front seat. I’ll get him later.

You disguise your embarrassment with a cough, “Oh! No, no, no. I mean, we can’t have the tallest teammate sit in the middle now can we?” You flash Ghost what you’re hoping is your best smile. Dammit why did I drink so much getting ready?

Ghost just grunts in confirmation and gets out of the vehicle.

You clamber your way in only to find Soap with a  shit-eating grin, sitting in the back as well.

“Hello, Soap.” Your tone is clipped, which makes his grin widen even more.

Ghost gets in finally, but once he’s finally settled, you find yourself literally squished between Soap and Ghost.

“Can either of you move over or something? I’m being squeezed to death.”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it, y/n.”

You really, hope Ghost didn’t just hear what Soap said, but it’s unlikely. You hit him in the shoulder, “First rounds on you, asshole.”

Soap raises his hands in a truce. “Alright, alright. Don’t get mad at me.”

You were only annoyed because Soap was right. You did like being squished up against Ghost. How embarrassing. Stupid feelings. Who even has time for feelings anymore?

You all finally make it to the club, and you make a beeline for the bar. As promised, Soap orders you, as well as Ghost and Gaz a round of drinks. You all cheer’s, then you down your shot. At this point, you’re definitely drunk.

The guys get another drink as you observe the dance floor. They take two more shots, and you take one more.

After your last shot, you let them know that you’re going to go dance. They all toast you, and then you’re off to the dance floor.

You start moving to the beat, letting the music take over your body, letting it carry you away from all your problems.

It’s only a few minutes in when you notice that they’re playing your favorite song. You rush back over to the guys, and excitedly shout, “They’re playing my favorite song! Do any of you want to dance with me?”

Before anyone could really respond, Soap is clapping Ghost on the shoulder, and pushing him towards you, “Ghost would love to.”

If you weren’t so drunk, you would have noticed Ghost send a glare to his friend. But not out of despite, more out of nervousness.

You clap your hands, so excited that someone is joining you, much different than your usually demeanor at work. Then you grasp Ghost’s hand in yours and lead him to the floor, leaving a grinning Soap and Gaz.

Gaz just sighs before saying, “Why do you always have to butt in?”

Soap just shrugs with a knowing smile on his face, “Because, they’d be good for each other, and both of them need a little nudge from someone to get the ball rolling.”

Once you and Ghost make it to the dance floor, you turn around to face him. You have the biggest smile he’s ever seen on your pretty face, and he can’t help but smile back.

You start moving to the music as before, but this time, Ghost wraps his hands around your waist and pulls you in close to him. So close, that your chests are touching. He’s definitely buzzed, borderline drunk.

He leans his head down so his lips are brushing against your ear, “I didn’t know you were quite the dancer.”

His breath tickles, and you let out a laugh, tightening your arms that have found their way around his neck.

“Don’t you know? I’m the dancing queen.” You let out a laugh, and pull him closer.

He laughs as well and you both continue swaying to the beat, that is, until a more up-tempo song starts to play. Before you know it, Ghost has spun you around, so now your back is facing his front.

His large hands make their way to your waist, gripping tightly. But not too tightly in which it hurts. It’s more so a comforting hold. You feel secure, like you would never trip and fall in his embrace.

You lean your head back so it’s resting on Ghost’s chest, and you feel him dip his head to meet yours. The height difference is making you dizzy, making you want more of him.

You feel him kiss down your neck, his lips searing your skin as they map you out. He makes his way back up and nips at your earlobe, which has you letting out a small yelp. But you lean further into him, signaling him to continue on.

Your hands come up to rest on top of his, and you squeeze them. You’ve never felt this exhilarated, and Ghost’s touches leave sparks in their wake, igniting you.

As he continues to kiss down your neck, you take one of your hands that’s grasping his, and start to lead it to the top of your skirt. He seems to get the idea, and continues his hand down until it’s grazing your upper thigh, lifting your skirt ever the slightest.

He subtly brings his fingers under your skirt to graze your underwear. The dance floor is so packed, that no one will notice.

The feeling of his fingers pressing on your bud has your head spinning and you let out a soft whine. It’s just faint enough that only Ghost can hear it. His hand goes further and pushes your underwear to the side. He teases your entrance without entering a finger into you and he brings his thumb up to press down on your clit. Which makes you let out another low pitch whine.

Your hand trails down to find his, as if to ground yourself. From what, you don’t even know. You just need to feel him more. More so than you already are.

All too soon, he removes his hand from your and brings it back up to cup your waist, then he spins you around so you’re facing him. What a fucking tease.

You crane your neck to glance up at him and you don’t know who moved in first. But what you do know is that you’re kissing Ghost. His lips lock with yours and it feels like it was always meant to be.

You trail your hands up so they play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. Twirling the hair around the tips of your fingertips. The kiss you share feels infinite, like it was mapping out the very constellations around you.

You never wanted it to end.

All too soon he pulls away, and brings his hands up to cup your face. His forehead is pressed up against yours, and he holds you so gently.

“I just had to do that, at least once.” He sounds breathless, and you fight the urge to pull him down to you again, at his confession.

“Why just once?” You’re just as breathless, if not more as you ask him this.

You don’t want this to end here, you can’t let it end here. You like him too much, too much that your heart hurts at the thought of letting him go.

Ghost peels himself from you, but his hands are still ever so gently cupping your sweet face. His thumbs rub under your eyes, on the apple of your cheeks, as he looks fondly down at you. He’s looking at you as if you created all the planets in the solar system, and hung up the stars as well.

“Because I know you deserve better.”

His admission tugs at your heartstrings, “Bullshit. You don’t get to tell me what’s good for me and what isn’t.”

It was true. You had to decide for yourself.

“Is that so?” A smirk forms on his lips.

You’re glad the air has turned back into something light, something teasing. That’s something you could deal with. Not the heavy shit that was threatening you before.

You bring your hands once again to his and grasp them, “Yes, it is, so you better get used to it.”

Ghost just lets out a laugh and then swiftly pulls you into a bone crushing hug. He rests his head on top of yours. You swear you feel a faint pressure atop your head, almost like a kiss laid upon your hair.

His words get muffled into your hair, but you make them out just the same. “Why don’t we finish what we started, but in a more private place, hm?”

You tighten your hold on him, words stifled into his chest as your answer, “Sounds like a plan to me.”

--

Ghost Masterlist

Could anyone really blame you though? You were on a tropical beach, you were young and pretty, and you had curves in all the right places. Of course, you wanted to pack your sexiest and brightest bathing suits. And also, it’s not your problem that men can’t keep their eyes off you. Nope, not your problem at all. You’re simply existing, and doing nothing wrong except wanting to enjoy the pleasant beach.

So, here you were, just minding your business laying on the beach, enjoying the sunrays and summer breeze, completely unaware of your brooding boyfriend sitting next to you in a beach chair. Earlier, you tried to convince Simon to lie down and sun bathe with you, but he politely declined and opted to sit in a chair instead, with a hat and sunglasses on to cover his face.

You weren’t oblivious to the stares some of the 141 men gave you. Some tried to be more subtle about it, and others seemed to have slipped into a trance, completely unaware that they have been more or less looking at you for a good minute (Johnny).

You never gave a reaction or said anything to any of them, because you really didn’t care what they thought of you. Again, you were only there to enjoy the beach and spend time with your boyfriend.

You thought you heard Simon mutter “Fucking hell,” at some point, but you’re unsure if you were just hearing things and continued to lay in the sun, with the breeze caressing your hair.

An hour or two later, you’re sharing the umbrella with Simon, sitting on towels, eating a small lunch when Johnny, aka “Soap,” jogs up to you guys with a volleyball in hand.

He smiles at you guys, and if you were paying closer attention, you would have noticed that his smile was slightly strained and that his throat bobbled a couple times as he looked at Simon.

“Do you guys want to join us for a round of volleyball?” His question seemed innocent enough to you, so you eagerly answered, “Yeah! I’m down.” You turn to Simon and your smile drops a little when you notice he’s kind of glaring at Johnny. Weird.

Simon looks at you for a second, his eyes softening a hair, but then he turns back to Johnny and they’re hard again. His voice is gruff as he explains, “Actually, I think we were going to go back to the house for a break. Y/N’s been laying in the sun for a while, and I could use a good AC break.”

Your eyebrows furrow, and you open your mouth to protest, but Simon cuts in again, “Right, Y/N?”

He’s giving you a strained look, and you just nod, and then look back up at Johnny. “Yeah, Simon’s right. I could use a break. We can play next game.”

Johnny looks between you and Simon before saying his goodbyes then runs off to where the other 141 men are, all waiting to start the game.

You and Simon start to pack up your lunch, and you harshly whisper, “What was that about?” Once all packed, you guys start walking back to the house, which is only a five minute walk.

“Literally, all of those men have been gawking at you the whole day. I don’t think there’s been one moment where one of them has not been looking at you.”

You let his words sink in for a moment, and you realize that he was right. I didn’t do anything to make him feel insecure, did I? No, no I didn’t. You quickly shake those thoughts out of your head because you didn’t give anyone any attention besides Simon. Guilt still slowly creeps through you even though you did nothing, but you understand why Simon feels upset.

You rest your hand on his bicep, the motion signaling him to stop walking and he turns to face you. You look up at your boyfriend, and you’re still taken aback by how good looking he is. The sun has slightly tanned his skin to perfection, and has lighted his hair so that blonde highlights reflect brightly in the sunlight. The tan that developed on his arms accentuates his brawny muscles and his forearm tattoo, looks darker, and more contrasting than before. Basically, summer is a good look on Simon, and you love to see your boyfriend let loose and enjoy himself for once.

Your voice is soft as you ask, “Are you okay?” You leave your hand on his arm, hoping to provide some level of comfort to your boyfriend. He lets out a sigh, but then gives you a small smile, “Of course. Sorry, I didn’t mean for this to get me wound up. I was just feeling annoyed at all of them.”

You grant him a nod, understanding his point of view. He continues, “They have no fucking shame, those bastards.” This makes you laugh and you say, “Agreed, no shame at all.” This makes Simon laugh and you both continue walking to the house.

Once there, you ask, “So, what’s the real reason why you wanted to bring me back to the house while everyone was still at the beach?” Your eyebrows are quirked up, and you have a shit-eating grin on your face.

“So I can do this!” Simon quickly grabs you and picks you up bridal style, which has you squealing in shock and you’re laughing. He takes you to your room and kicks the door shut before placing you on the bed.

“Ahhhh, I see now.” You’re still grinning like a fool in love and Simon leans down to hover over you, hands braced on either side of your head.

He’s smiling then he finally closes the gap between you, and kisses you. The kiss quickly deepens and his tongue slips into your mouth, while his hand trails down your stomach and dips down in your bikini bottoms. He runs two fingers down and up your slit, and you’re already wet from his touch. He preps you with one finger, slowly pumping in and out as he continues to make out with you. Your hands are roaming his shoulders and down his arms before traveling down to tug at the hem of his shirt.

He helps you remove his tank top, and he goes back to kissing you, and then adds a second finger. The stretch feels heavenly, and you’re letting out the prettiest moans that he’s swallowing with his kisses. You figure you should return the favor, so your hand dips under his waistband and you grab his length, pumping up and down.

His thumb flicks over your clit, and you feel your high build and build, threatening to drop any minute. When it finally hits you, hot waves of pleasure wash over your body and Simon starts kissing down you neck, gently nipping at your skin. He kisses your collar bones, then makes his way back up your neck until he’s on your lips again. He swiftly removes your top, followed by your bottoms and you do the same for him by removing his swimming shorts.

Simon kisses down your chest and leaves small, quick kisses all over your stomach, which makes your heart flutter. He rubs your clit in soothing circles with two fingers and then leans down and spits, adding more lubrication. He moves back up your body, kissing you behind your ear as you continue to pump him. You voice to him that you’re ready, and you guide him into you, and he enters you slowly, taking in the full stretch of him.

Once settled, he starts moving, setting a generous rhythm which has your high building up again and quickly. Your trace your hands down his abs, feeling the distinct ridges of each muscle, and then trace them along the hard planes of his arms. His fingers continue to rub you, and the feeling of his hands plus his dick moving in and out of you has you reach your high quickly, waves of pleasure washing over you once again.

You’re heavily panting and he soon follows, he too breathing heavily. His head is dipped, and you bring your hands up to cup either side of his face, so that he’s looking at you. Grinning at him you confess, “I love you.” You admit this while he’s softening inside of you, and he lets out a chuckle, “I love you too.”

You guys clean up and put your bathing suits back on, getting ready to go back to the beach.

“So, what are they odds that they’ll know we just had sex?” You see Simon look slightly above you, no doubt looking at the state of your hair. Subconsciously, you start to smooth it down, and you guys begin walking to the beach, hand in hand.

“I don’t really care what they know. They’re nosy fucks, and maybe now they won’t feel comfortable gawking at my girlfriend.” You think it’s kind of cute that he’s a little jealous, but you refrain from giggling at his statement, so you just smile and squeeze his hand. “No worries, babe, I only have eyes for you.” You give Simon an over-exaggerated wink, and his only response is a large laugh.

It doesn’t seem like that would be an accurate description considering his line of work, but he manages to prove you wrong time and time again throughout your relationship. He always assuaged you when every you were feeling down, or insecure, and you only hope that you provided him the same level of support he provides to you.

You were especially prone to feeling insecure. The feeling of dread would creep in and then weigh you down like a rusty anchor. Your bouts of insecurity were mercurial, the most random things would set it off.

Today happened to be one of those days. When you woke up this morning, you felt more bloated than usual, and your normal morning perusing on Instagram didn’t help your feeling of insecurity creeping in. You really should know better by now to not go on social media when you’re feeling like this.

No matter what you tried on in your closet, nothing seemed to fit or look right. What made it even more silly was, you weren’t even going anywhere today. You were simply looking for something to lounge around in on this lazy Sunday.

But even your usual big t-shirts, that provided a layer of comfort and protection, weren’t doing the job.

You’re currently in your closet, standing in front of your floor length mirror, picking at your t-shirt that rests over your body.

Due to the mirror, you see Simon come up behind you, and before you can stop him, he’s wrapping his arms around your middle, and pulls you back into his chest. He rests his head on top of yours, and usually you would relish in his comforting hold, but you just weren’t feeling it today.

Your hands come up to start and push Simon’s hands off you, but he only tightens his hold, refusing to let go.

“Simon,” you say with a hint of a whine in your voice. “I’m trying to get dressed.”

You just hear him hum against your neck as he trails his lips across your sensitive skin.

“Well, can’t I help you?”

A sigh leaves your lips, “Not today.”

It’s then when Simon notices that you aren’t in a playful mood, and actually seem to be upset about something.

He releases you from his hold, then gently turns you around so you’re facing him. “What’s up, baby?”

One of his hands rests on your shoulder and gives you a light squeeze, while the other comes up to brush the hairs from your face.

“I just- nothing seems to fit me right today. I feel like I look lumpy and bloated and just overall gross.”

Your eyes cast downward, away from Simon’s gaze and you fiddle with your fingers. You shrug your shoulders, and confess, “It’s just one of those days.”

“Well, you’re wrong about looking ‘lumpy,’ or ‘gross,’ y/n. You could never ever be those things to me, ok?”

You let you another sigh.

“Besides, I love your curves, and my favorite thing about you is your tummy.” At that his hand comes down your side and lightly squeezes your waist.

“Well, and your thighs of course.” His hand travels further and he cups you behind.

His light touches feel ticklish, so he’s granted a giggle from your lips.

“Do you seriously think you’re too heavy for me?”

You look back up at him and say “Simon, I know you love me-”

He interrupts you, “You’re not calling me weak, are you?” There’s a grin on is face as he looks down at you and you’re finding it hard not to smile back at him.

Before you can respond though, he swiftly picks you up, and on instinct, you wrap your legs and arms around his large frame. You sometimes forget how strong he his.

You laugh at his antics, “Simon what are you doing?”

“I’m whisking you away, dear.” He leads you both out of the closet to your bedroom, and lays you down on the bed.

You’re smiling up at him as he crawls on top of you, “Oh, are you now?”

“Yes, now let me show you how much I love you.”

He leans down and captures your lips with his in a sentimental kiss.

--

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