theroominthewall

Ghost has a hidden talent and damn him if he's gonna miss a chance to use it for you

It had been mentioned during a drunken night after a job done well. Soap clapping a now tense Simon on the back telling you how the ghost was an artist. This then lead to all of the guys showing you their "Simon tattoo", silly stuff like soap's soap bar on his leg and Gaz's helicopter on his shoulder. In fact, Simon had designed and inked most of his own tattoos on the areas that he could reach.

Now you, on the other hand, are a virgin when it comes to tattoos. So when you all come back from a shitty mission that blew up in your face (literally), you think know would be the best time to end your purity. Simon was in his room, stressed out, and you walk in ever so softly.

"Not the time y/n" he growls, not sparing you a glance as he cleans. Something you noticed he does a little too much when something doesn't go his way. You're used to grumpy Simon so you perch on his desk in the corner, now he looks up* "won't say it 'gain-"

"I want my Simon tattoo" you cut him off, giving him your best puppy dog eyes and tilt of the head, swinging your legs just to top it off and he can't resist. He stand up and grabs his kit and pats a more comfortable chair as he sits down. You sit down and he looks you up and down raising an eyebrow, "sure about this?" He asks genuine. You smile and take your jacket off to give him better access to your collarbone "do whatever you want, I don't care".

About an hour or so later and the silence is comfortable in the dead of the night, apart from the soft buzz of the tattoo gun and the small noises you make every now and then. "Doin' so well love" he constantly praises, eyes never leaving your skin as he finishes. You find yourself relaxing under his touch, gentle compared to the prick of the needle, you lay your headto the side and stare at him, noting every detail from the way his eyes move ever so slightly to the tug at the side of his mask when he's particularly happy with a design choice he's made. "Done" he stands up and there's a part of you that wishes it could have lasted just a little longer so you could memorise the almost silent tune he starts to hum when he's focused.

You stand up and he, very un-ghost like, picks up a mirror sheepishly and shows you the skull and purple rose. It's beautiful, no denying that, the colour chosen to represent the way you present yourself in the field. The flower a peek into the deepest parts of you your sure only he has seen. It doesn't take much to realise what the skull means, dutifully standing guard, encasing the bright plant. You smile, taken back by how genuinely skilled ghost is. Ghost visibly relaxes when he sees your reaction, but you can't miss the light chuckle escaping his lips and the way the light in his eyes starts dancing with mischief. You've missed something, too taken back by the design. You step closer to the mirror and that's when you spot it, something you absently brushed off as the flowers stem.

And that's when you gasp, heart racing, mind buzzing, you try to speak, to come back at him with some clever remark, but there's nothing, after all what can you say when the man you're secretly (not so well hidden) in love with, the man who pushes and pulls you away in the same second, the man who makes the room becomes a vacuum of air the second he enters, what happens when you let that man leave a beautiful on your skin...

...And he fucking signs it

Can't say it's any good but feel free to watch 🤣

I'll get back to writing soon!

Ghost stood in his room, staring at the wall. he hates to admit it but he's missing your touch, your balance of the bed and the constant nightmares. as nice as it was being home, the guilt he felt about double crossing you was eating away at him. he was told to stay away from the cells where they were keeping you, price told him it was for his own good but all it did was make him feel like shit. so, against his captain's orders, here he was, walking down the stairs and across the hallways of rowdy men and women shouting and cursing. until, at the end, he stood in front of your small accommodation. you sat there in the chair that you managed to drag into the middle of the room, hair sprawled out as you lean forward head down. the sound of footsteps stooping causes you to raise your head slowly, smirking.

it wasn't the beauty that caught simons eye the day he went undercover as a rogue member of a made up force. he'd seen plenty of pretty women in his time. it wasn't the sense of danger either. it was your eyes, constant pools of secrets and knowledge that made you seem like this higher being. he knew you were brilliant, your mind surpassed most in the team with your expertise in weapons and latest technology. you had kept up with his sarcasm and dark humour and he had kept up with your ideas and darkness. when he took you into his bed, this game started as a way to feel comfort and company turned into a spill of truths. he saw the side to you that aspired for change, a better ending. he knew you had your own agenda, that's why he felt you could be an asset for intel and support. he didn't expect to regret the choice after seeing you taken away, even though he knew what the outcome would be.

right now that soft side was gone, nowhere to be seen. that part of you that tore people's souls with your gaze was attempting to do the same to simon. it wasn't hard considering his layers had slowly dissolved around you. all you had to do was ask him and he knew there would be a high chance he'd give you anything.

"come to gloat?" you finally spoke up. simon allowed his body to relax onto the wall next to him. "just checking in on your willingness to provide information". you scoff, reading him like your favorite book. he gulped, louder than he expected which only increased your amusement. your head tilts as you study him. "c'mon lieutenant, we both know there's more to the story, let's play a game hm? I'll show you mine if you show me yours" you lay the card on the table and ghost tenses. he weighs up the pros and cons of lowering his guard even further. eventually he grabs a stool and sits down.

"alright, i'll start, where's your brother headin'?"

you look at him with a satisfied smirk, dragging your chair closer to the bars separating you both. "we have about 5 safehouses in a 10 mile radius from the base you infiltrated. hes low on weapons so that's what he'll look for first. there's an old warehouse 6 miles south from where we were. looks like a nuclear evacuation site left to rot. it's completely safe" you reveal all watching ghosts eyebrows furrow as he processes the information. you lean forward until your face is inches from the bar, "my turn, how many people have actually seen your face?" you stare, as if waiting for your eyes to turn into x rays that allow you to see under that layer of the ghost you had yet to peel off. he looks at you, leaning back slightly at the question, like hes worried you'd rip off the mask somehow from behind the bars. "more than enough" he grunts, although the truth is, from the beginning of the ghost, the only people still alive granted with the sight of his face was his brother and price. you shake your head and lean back. ghost crossed his arms and relaxes slightly at your accepting glance. "what does he have planned? what's the emergency process?", you hesitate at his question, one of the rare moments your cocky attitude falters. "everyone is set their own tasks, some are sent to our allies to provide friendly reminders we are still trustworthy and reliable, some look for assets to replace damages and losses, others are working on the revenge plan. you know your role as soon as the process is triggered. the inner circle knows, whether there's an emergency or not." you explain, ghost can tell there's something you're hiding and leans forward. "what's your role then?" he presses. your face returns to its usual smirk, "that's two questions" you stand up and walk over to the makeshift, barred window, "ill help you find him and the rest of 'em, ill even help you deal with a few other underground forces, but i need something in return-" ghost stands up as well, interrupting you "they wont give you immunity", you smile and turn to face him, "i don't want immunity anymore, i've had better idea..." your met with ghosts raised eyebrow so you walk towards the bars and lean against them, " i think we make a good team and this predicament raises an opportunity....i wanna be brought on as an informant, an asset. let me work with you and i'll provide the holy book of intel. all you have to do is let me do things my way"

yeah ghost forgot one thing to mention about you,

an~hii, this is my first proper fanfic posted, hope you enjoy! this will be an ongoing series but some can be read as oneshots.

time ticked by slowly, as it usually does in this godforsaken place. I bounce my leg in boredom, pretending to pay attention to the man standing and talking to the team. my brother, Samuel, explained the plan as some sort of trap for the current enemy. honestly, as vital as my role was, i couldn't care less. i had my own plan, constructed 2 months ago when i discovered our mysterious new recruit was actually the ghost, undercover. you see, i should have been furious, should have killed him on the barely held together balcony as his cocky stance faltered the moment i called him out. the truth his, him being here served as a catalyst for my next moves. we spent the next months forming an alliance and building some form of professional trust. i glance over at the large shadow in the corner, listening in to the meeting like the loyal rat he was. i couldn't help the slight flutter as he looked my way, it seemed that the past few weeks i had spoiled the deal we had-constant intel, occasional sex, absolutely no feelings. you can guess which one i stumbled over.

"echo, are you any closer to attacking their recent movements?" im dragged out my thoughts by Samuel, obviously annoyed by my distracted attention. I sat up straight, "unfortunately not, last feedback was their decision to contact nearby allies and setup transport and entry plans, however they still seem far from an execution date." i lie through my teeth. 141 are breaking in tonight, with my help, i get immunity and the chance to escape.

night falls fairly quickly and i can sense the relief in ghosts shoulders as he lays in bed with me, the last fuck i tell myself, almost like a goodbye. we watch the clock as we prepare ourselves, i look around the dusty space of my room one final time, expecting to feel some kind of grief. however, as i close the door i'm left with the satisfaction of what i'm doing being my desire, the second my brother took over control.

i tap away at the computer, disabling alarms and armoury. the next minute special forces are heard shouting in the main hall. doors fling open and crowds of people with guns stream into the room. as the fight breaks out, i take my chance to slip out. i'm so close to leaving it all behind when i realise the number force coming into play. not enough special forces to take down the angry hostiles with a pick and mix of personal weapons. why should i care? I've done my part, but that part of me I've tried to bury alive, tried to starve, gnaws at my conscience like fire ants spreading over my selfish pride. the next minute gunfire from the walls covers the intended targets. see the fun thing about remote controlled guns, more brains less emotion, expertly making the target look like one of those american cheeses with holes in.

i glance at the spared, their eyes widening in realisation. they take the split second given to cause a scene and escape. i can tell the bearded man in the hat is pissed. extremely pissed. the rest of the men walk over to ghost, who is now wearing a skull mask rather then a black balaclava. "how the fuck did he manage that switch up?" i mumble, catching the attention of the so-called 141. the man in the hat walks over. "so you're the one ghost brought in" hes not impressed, more sceptical. "well we had things in common, i had to swipe right" i joke..and immediately regret when im met with silent, blank stares. so not the right time to joke, at least i get my- CLICK, the handcuffs are over my wrists before i can even imagine my promised dreams of survival.

i whip my head towards ghost, whos standing as far as he can without making his guilt too evident. "you promised...." i glare as fucking mohawk man over here strides over like we're pals. "sorry lass, but you have too much information-" he speaks but is interrupted by the younger, more serious looking guy behind him giving me the same sceptical eyes as his boss, "-and too much blood on your hands". i relax, trying to hold up my tough persona, "haven't we all...so what is this then, i'm your prisoner? for how long?"

"as long as it takes" the masked asshole finally speaks up, that soft interior being completely shielded from me again. i feel my heart sink, but there's no time to break out in song. i start racking my brain for genius escape plans as i'm dragged onto the plane. the journey back is silent, full of strange looks from ghost. as soon as we reach their base, I'm thrown into a cell and left alone. you know if they wanted to throw me a thank you party they could have just asked me to come nicely.