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it-was-funeral-grey · 1 year

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Again (Ghost x F!Reader)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5(wip!)

Summary: Luck had saved you from death, and now it's going to throw you back into the life that you've left behind. Call you and Simon pessimistic, but you both don't think this is going to end well.

Warnings: Just a reminder that reader's CODE NAME is Dahila, reader is wearing a dress, ooc Soap? actually im pretty sure ghost is ooc in this whole series to (idk let me know), Simon is mean to Soap, mentions of wedding dances, falling backwards, vulgarities, injuries and passing out, mention of burning, a guy that can't accept a no, mention of sexual tension.

Word count: <3.7k

Inspired by: Robbers - The 1975

"There'll be a riot, cause I know you."

Author's note: ah yes, when i don't know how to describe something or get a block, what do it do? switch perspectives!

this is terrible im sorry i really tried!

Please give criticism! Also, if i missed any warnings, do tell me so i can add them!

Soap thinks he has had enough surprises today.

It was one thing to see his LT rage at nothing. It was another thing to see his LT handle his weapons so clumsily.

But this? This takes the fucking cake.

The moment he took aim at the target's head, Ghost had decked him so hard that he was sure something had broken.

He's wearing a bulletproof vest. Do you know hard you must punch to break a bone in that thing?!

"What the FUCK, LT?", Soap exclaims.

But Ghost wasn't paying attention to him, currently engaged in a staring competition with the target.

"Dahila." Ghost whispered. He's turned to face the target, but even without looking at the tall man's face- or rather, eyes, Soap is aware that he's seeing a new side of his LT he's not sure he's supposed to.

The target - perhaps he should refer to her as Dahila now, doesn't respond. She's been chained to the chair, and Soap would have felt sorry for her had she not been his target.

"L…T?"

"Dahila, why," Ghost's voice trembles. "Why are you here?"

Soap's never heard his LT speak so softly before.

Dahila's mouth opens, but no words come out. Her face pales as she clenches her fists. She looks like she's seen a ghost.

Ok. There's clearly some history between these two, Soap realises. Tired of being ignored, he slowly picks himself up, wincing when his vest digs into his bruised chest.

"What's going on, LT?" Soap asks cautiously.

The tension was so thick it was making Soap uncomfortable. And he's a Special Ops soldier. He's dealt with worse situations without batting an eye.

Suddenly, Ghost whips around to face him, the softness in his tone now replaced with fury.

"Did you know?" Ghost fumes, stomping towards him. "Did you know the target was her?"

"The name of the target was on the file!" Soap shoots back, backing away from the angry man. "LT! What's going on?"

More enemies might come any moment now. They have to finish the job, free the guy upstairs, and leave.

Picking up the gun, Soap prepares to take aim.

"Put the gun down."

"Ghost, we gotta finish this and run."

"I said put the BLOODY GUN DOWN!"

A whimper comes from behind Ghost, cutting the argument short. In an instant, both men look back at the bound woman.

"Simon." she sobs. Her shoulders drop in what seems like relief.

"Leave us."

"What?"

"Go. Please…go," Simon sighs, shaking his head. "I'll explain everything later."

Saying 'please'? His LT was pretty much begging him to leave.

His proud, commanding LT was begging.

Running a hand through his mohawk, Soap lets out a frustrated grunt and turns to leave the basement.

Seriously. That was enough surprises for the whole damn year, and it's only January.

He didn't know.

He just clicked the confirm button the moment the job was offered. All he knew was that it was a kill mission. He had been so caught up in misery that he had forgotten to check the file about the target.

He was becoming careless.

He had accepted a job to kill her.

He had accepted a job to kill his Dahila.

A lot is going through his head right now. Shame, shock, confusion - but Simon being Simon, decides to go with the one he's most familiar with.

Anger.

But really, it's actually concern in a bad disguise. Not that Simon will admit that.

("Now, number two!" she continued, holding up two fingers. "Never, under any circumstance, attempt to access the server after you retire from service.")

Why the fuck did she do that? She knew what was coming. If anyone else had accepted the job, she'd be long dead.

She'd be gone, and he wouldn't even know.

She'd be gone, and he'll be the only one carrying their shared memories.

"What on earth were you thinking?!" Simon shouts, turning to face her. "If anyone else had been sent, you'd be dead!"

She lets out a shocked yelp, flinching at the loud sound. This stops Simon in his tracks, any anger he feels disappearing in an instant.

She's scared

She's scared of him.

And who wouldn't be? If you a were kill-on-sight target of the world's finest soldiers, you'd be wary of anybody and everybody.

Even the person you had just admitted your love for.

("Because I love you, Simon!")

"I-god, no- I," Simon lets out a defeated sigh. "I'm not going to hurt you, love. Never."

She doesn't look too convinced, teary eyes eyeing him warily.

The distrust stings, and he wants to disappear, to punish himself for scaring her, to cut his arms off to prove that he would never hurt her, but he brushes it aside.

Getting her out of here safe was his only priority right now.

Everything else is inconsequential.

("Because I love you, Simon!")

Even his own feelings.

Composing himself, he takes a deep breath. Placing his weapons onto the floor, he raises his hands, showing her that he's unarmed now.

"I'm just going to get these chains off," Simon's voice now gentler as he takes slow steps towards her. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

She doesn't take her eyes off him as he approaches her and bends down to inspect the chain.

A while ago, if anyone had told Simon that he'd have her undivided attention, he would have been over the moon.

But not like this. And Simon swears that once he gets her to safety, he's going to hunt down the motherfucker that-

No, now's not the time for this, Simon chides himself. He can deal with these feelings later. Right now, feelings will only get in the way of his judgement.

And he is NOT risking losing her over a stupid, emotionally fueled decision.

The chains are a mess, some looping through each other, others locked together using padlocks. Simon doesn't think he's going to be able to break her out of it without the proper tools. Which, of course, they didn't bring. They weren't expecting to save the target.

Which reminds him that he still has Soap to deal with. He's going to need to convince Soap to let her live. How's he going to do that?

For a split second, the idea of killing Soap and escaping with her seemed really appealing, but he quickly dismisses the thought.

He did promise Soap that'd he explain everything. He'll table the idea of killing Soap for now.

The sergeant should be upstairs, freeing the prisoner he said he found.

Standing back up, Simon walks back over to his weapons, grabbing his pistol from the pile. He hears her chair shift noisily, trying to get away from him, and he makes the mistake of turning around too fast in an attempt to reassure her quickly.

"No! Hey, wait- I'm not going to-"

But then the chair tilts back a little too much-

The pain doesn't come.

Instead, you feel the chair jerk forward. Something has stopped you from falling all the way.

Opening your eyes, the first and only thing you see is a white skull mask.

Simon.

He's so close.

He has an arm around the back of your chair, his fingers brushing against your waist. His other hand holds your head, supporting your neck. His face is right above yours. And oh, his eyes-

("Ok, a hand on my waist," you had instructed, guiding Simon's hand. "And your other hand…goes…here!"

"Love, what are you doing?"

"Ok, I'm gonna lie back now!"

"Wait-"

Ignoring his protests, you lean back, and Simon scrambles to support you.

"Ok! Now lower me more!"

"What?"

"Lower me! Like in the video!"

"What video?!"

"Like those dancers in the ballrooms! Lower me!"

You were trying to get Simon to do a dip with you. After watching a video of a couple's wedding dance, you wanted to try it.

"Lower me!"

"I don't know how!")

His eyes gaze into yours with an emotion that you can't quite name. But it feels so warm, so calming, so much so that you forget that he's actually here to kill you.

For a moment, time stands still. The space around you changes into something more familiar, more like home.

It's just you and Simon again in the living room, trying to copy that couple's wedding dance.

("Ok, bend forward…yes! I think we're doing it! Are we doing it, Si!?"

"Love, if the neighbours hear what you just said, they'd think-"

"Si!")

But it's all over too soon. Simon looks away and leans back, pulling you upright.

"Are you alright?"

You nod your head.

"I… just wanted to give you this," Simon says, picking up the pistol and handing it to you. "I need to head up for a bit to talk to the other guy."

You cautiously take the pistol. Despite not knowing how to use it, the weight feels comforting in your hand.

"Just so you feel more at ease," Simon continues. "I know you're scared and probably don't trust me, but…I'm not going to hurt you."

With that, he turns around and leaves the basement, trusting you not to shoot him in the back.

The moment you're alone, you slump into your chair, dropping the pistol into your lap.

What the fuck is happening?

Simon is here!

Simon. Is. Fucking. Here.

To kill you! To rescue you.

You should be dead now! But you're not! Whee!

Why is he here?!

After two whole years of nothing, why is he here?

Conflicting emotions pop around your brain, and you feel like your head is about to burst. You press your hands over your eyes, hoping that the pressure will relieve the tension in your head.

You feel something cold press against your face. Your engagement ring.

Max.

Oh god, you forgot about Max.

Simon finds Soap on the third floor of the building, in a small room that reeks of gasoline.

He soon finds out why. In the center of the room, passed out and tied to a pole, is a man whose jeans are soaked with the liquid.

They were going to burn the poor lad, Simon thinks, watching Soap cut the last rope.

But then, Simon realises that he's seen the man before.

(He was wearing a slick black suit, eyes glowing as he looked up at the gorgeous lady he was kneeling for. He had a ring box in one hand and the other over his heart.)

It's him.

The fiancé.

Simon has to fight the urge to pull out his lighter and-

"So, gonna tell me what's up, LT?" Soap huffs, interrupting Simon's murderous thoughts.

Good question, Johnny. What is happening?

Oh, the love of my life - who I left two years ago to go on THAT mission- is actually the agent we've been sent to kill. And lying on the floor over there, like a pathetic dog, is her new fiancé. My heart is in shambles just thinking about them together. That's why I was acting so strange earlier! Now, we can't kill her. If you try, I'll burn you together with him.

That sounds about right. Now, all he needs to do is rearrange some words and voilà! An explanation that Soap would hopefully accept.

"We can't kill her," Simon replies, unable to look the frowning sergeant in the eye. "She's…my recommendation for 141's intelligent agent spot."

Ah yes, lie to make it sound more convincing! Great job, Simon! Instead of being honest with your best friend, who you know for a fact would hear you out and help, lie! Not today, emotional vulnerability!

"I'm sorry, what?"

"She's," Simon takes a deep breath. He's in for it now. He can't take this back. "She's my recommendation for the intelligence agent spot."

"You can't be serious, LT!" Soap scoffs in disbeilef. "She violated server access rules! She's selling information!"

"We don't know if she's done that-"

"She's a kill-on-sight target!"

"Soap, I know it looks bad, but-"

A faint jingling, followed by a heavy dragging sound, interrupts the two men from arguing further.

Simon immediately lifts a finger to his lips, gesturing to Soap to prepare for a fight. Nicking a pistol from Soap's thigh holster, Simon approached the doorway as quietly as he could manage before making a sharp turn into the hallway and seeing-

Your legs really hurt.

And so do your arms, but at least they aren't bleeding. Much.

The way the chains secured you to the chair looked complicated, but you quickly realised that there were only two parts to this whole puzzle after bending and twisting around weirdly in the chair.

One: A set of chains secured your ankles together. Not so much so that your legs stuck together, but enough to make walking a no-go. However, you couldn't tell what was linking these chains shut from where you were looking.

Two: Another set of chains secured each leg to the chair legs. The chain that was doing so looped into the chains around your ankles and linked itself shut using padlocks.

Since your hands were freed, nothing was stopping you from standing up. So, your next issue was getting rid of the chair. That was easy because all you had to do was…stand up and pull the chair upwards, past the chains.

That was anti-climactic.

Throwing the chair aside, you look down to get a better look at the chains securing your ankles. After shifting around and trying not to fall over, you find the two ends were linked by a padlock with a 3-digit code.

You tried easing your feet out of the chains, but they were bound too tight. There was no way to get these off. Not unless you were willing to try passcode combinations from 001-999.

But you have to get out of here. To get to Max. You can't let those two hurt him.

So the next best alternative was to crawl which was what you were currently doing. Well, more of dragging yourself, really.

Using your arms, you managed to drag yourself to the basement ladder. And by the sheer force of will and jumping, climbed the ladder and escaped the basement.

You could hear voices coming from above. Following the voices, you painstakingly drag yourself up the stairs, each 'step' becoming more painful as bruises, cuts and scratches begin to mark your arms and legs.

All in the name of love, right? You need to save Max. Your fiancé. The love of your life.

("Because I love you, Simon!")

It was a small building, so it didn't take you much time to reach the third floor, where you managed to locate the room where the two men supposedly were.

Dragging yourself as fast as you can, you're finally a step away from the entrance when a foot nearly steps on your fingers.

Yelping in surprise, you find yourself staring up at the barrel of a gun before it is quickly retracted.

"Dahila!?"

Simon looks into the room, signalling something before kneeling next to you.

"Are you alright? How did you-"

"Don't touch him," You reach a hand into your dress pocket, pulling out Simon's pistol. "Where is he?"

"Easy love, put-"

"Don't 'Love' me! Where is he?" You demand, pointing the pistol at Simon. Your arms are shaky, and you're pretty sure he could disarm you and snap your neck in a second, but you stand your ground. Or rather, lie on your ground.

"Put it down, lass." Someone warns. It's the mohawk guy from before. He's come out of the room and has a rifle aimed at you.

"Ok, both of you! Enough!" Simon orders, shifting to block you from the rifle. "Guns down! Now, Soap!"

Soap reluctantly obliges, eyes glaring at yours. Simon then turns to you, raising his hands up in surrender.

"Lo- Dahila, if you're asking about the other gent we found, he's in here," He motions to the room. "He's fine."

Simon shifts back slowly, allowing you space to move in front of the door. Lowering your gun, you drag yourself to the entrance and look in. There he was. But he wasn't moving.

"What did you do to him?" you yelled, turning to Simon. "You said that he was fine!"

"He's just passed out. Was like that when he found him." Simon replies, pointing a thumb at Soap behind him. Soap just shrugs, supporting what Simon said.

The gasoline was pungent and stung as it made contact with your wounds, but you press on, dragging yourself closer to Max.

"Max," you whisper, cupping his face gently. You shift to kneel beside him as you check him for injuries. His breath was steady, and he didn't seem to have any visible injuries, to your relief. "Oh, Max…I'm so sorry."

Your eyes begin to water again. This was all your fault. What was supposed to be a happy holiday has turned into a nightmare. Ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and now you're going to die.

"He has nothing to do with this," your voice quivers as tears begin to fall. "It was all me. Kill me and leave him alone."

Even though you had assumed they would save Max, thinking of him as a prisoner of your captors, that wasn't a guarantee. In the end, Max's life is still at the mercy of others. It's just a matter of who.

And that's why you did all this, right? To give Max a fighting chance at surviving this whole shitshow. Under Samuel, it was undeniable that he'd be killed. But the Special Ops may give him a chance.

So, you beg.

"Please, kill me if you must," you're sobbing again as you hold Max's hand. "Please, spare his life. He's just a banker, he's just a civilian- he's innocent, plea-"

"We're not killing either of you folks," Soap interrupts, sighing as he looks away from your crying figure. "We're just gonna bring him back to the base for observation."

Relief blooms in your chest, and you drop Max's hand. He's going to live. He's going to be fine. They'll protect him back at their base.

"And as for you," Soap continues. "We'll be taking you back there as well. To see the boss man."

Huh?

"Yes," Simon adds. "You're my recommendation for our intelligence agent spot, remember? You're going to need to speak with the Captain first."

What?

Simon's giving you a weird look. He's giving you that look. No, not THAT kind of look.

(This sucks. You want to leave.

But you can't really leave your own shop.

"So, Miss Flower," the man in an ugly green suit smiles. "How about we go in the back and…play amongst the flowers?"

Ugh. This is the fourth time this week he's tried to flirt with you. He really can't take a no for an answer.

"I'm sorry, but-"

"Oh, come on! I know you want it," He starts to lean in, invading your personal space. "I'll buy all the flowers we trample over."

"Love? Everything ok?"

A familiar, soothing voice sounds from behind you, and you stiffen as a hand snakes around your waist. You feel a warmth right next to your face as someone leans over your shoulder.

You turn your head, and there he was.

Simon.

He's so close.

He gives you a weird look.

Play along.

You nod.

"O-oh! Nothing honey! Just chatting with a customer here!" You stammer. But it's enough to convince the man. He mutters a rushed goodbye, as he storms out of the shop.

Immediately, the two of you separate.

"I'm so sorry, I just thought that-" Simon mutters, his hand doing a poor job of hiding his flushed face.

"No! No, it's fine," you cut him off. You're pretty sure your face is as red or even more so than his. "Thank you for dealing with…that."

It's so hot. It's cold outside, but it still feels so hot. The air has a spark to it. It feels like at any moment, the spark will set something aflame. And you kind of want to burn. Together with Simon.

You later learn that that is called sexual tension.

That very week, you and Simon start dating.)

He's asking me to play along.

You don't know what the fuck Simon has up his sleeve, but you nod, wiping your tears while you're at it.

"This is going to be hell to explain to the Captain, Ghost."

"He'll understand."

"How is he going to overturn a kill-on-sight order?"

"He'll figure it out."

"The higher up are going to hang us for this."

"Nah, they won't."

The duo bicker amongst themselves as they approach the two of you.

"Get the bloke. I'll carry her out after checking her wounds."

"Got it."

Soap picks up Max in a fireman carry and walks out the door. You wait until he is out of earshot before whispering to Simon, who now kneels beside you, inspecting your cuts.

"What the fuck, Simon?"

"It was the only thing I could think of to convince Soap not to shoot you."

"I left that life a long time ago!"

"If you want to live, this is the only way."

He's right. And you hate him for it.

There's silence as he tends to your wounds. What do you say to the man who broke your heart two years ago, and then saved your life? Do you curse him out? Scream at him for leaving you so coldly?

("Because I love you, Simon!")

Or you could just pretend that you didn't just confess your love for him on what you thought was your deathbed.

Yeah, that works.

There's too much happening. Too many conflicting emotions. You can't speak. Maybe it's better that you don't.

But whatever it is, the only thing you know for sure is that you're going to be returning to a life you thought you left behind for good.

You'll be working with Special Ops again.

You'll be sworn to secrecy again.

You'll be working with Simon.

Again.

This is going to be an emotional disaster.

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