everything here is a work in progress, ive never written fanfics before so criticism is appreciated and welcomed!! i prefer writing from the canon characters pov (i know this is more unusual to see but i like it so.. heh)
all characters are based on the call of duty modern warfare games! i luv ghost <33
any warnings for content/triggers will be included in the posts, but nothing is more than vanilla so far
i proofread my own stuff, english is my first language but mistakes may slip sorry lol
hi! if you're actually reading this thank you!! if you like the fics please leave a like or comment to say what you liked :D i would love encouragement to write some moreee
— ᨳଓ . sunshine!reader x ghost
the beginning — part one, 700 words, fluff
lighthouse — part two, 700 words, pining
fantasies — part three, 900 words, mild nsfw
anything — part four, 1.5k words, hurt/comfort
— ᨳଓ . neurodivergent!reader x ghost
systems — part one, 2.4k words, set up and backstory
part two - pending
last update: 15 august // dividers from @/strangergraphics !
tags : ghost x neurodivergent(autism spectrum)!reader, implied age gap (reader in her 20s), reader is cap price's niece, no use of y/n
warnings : none,, be aware neurodivergent details are from personal experience :)
word count : 2.4k
☁️ notes : i had so much fun with this!! only proofread once lol, lmk if its okay i finished this at 1am :P
part one of ... ?
summary :: price's niece gets pulled from her normal life and onto TF141's base. ghost catches her eye, and she catches his.
You had always struggled with fitting in. You were always thinking in ways the others could never understand. When you struggled to understand the questions in school, you'd be scolded by the teachers still with no understanding of what you did wrong or why any of it deserved punishment.
Growing up, you found solace in alone time; isolating yourself from the other kids because they seemed to speak in a language you never understood no matter how hard you tried. That lasted for years.
In your teens you researched and deep dived and tried to find what could possibly be so wrong with you that nobody else understood.
And then you found it-- the autism spectrum. The characteristics and traits and experiences of these people online were so familiar to you it was overwhelming. You weren't broken, quite the opposite, you just experienced the world in a way that most people don't think is possible.
After finding that community, the world started to make a little more sense. This time, you understood why the public bus felt so daunting (the too bright lights, the smells, the body heat of other people closing in on you so much it feels hard to breathe) and why you couldn't stand to wear that certain jacket today (the colour reminds you of old playground equipment and the fabric feels like sandpaper grating through your skin). Now into your 20s you understood the language those other kids spoke was one you never learned the rules to; nobody ever taught you when was the right time to speak in a group, when to listen, when its okay to bring up your own experience in a conversation. None of it. A whole society built upon foundations you couldn't see or understand, nevermind be able to learn how they functioned and which ones were okay to follow or not.
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
You were raised by your uncle--a man you respected and you felt always accepted by. His name is John Price, a military captain and the leader of Task Force 141. That was all you knew about his job up until a few months ago.
You had been studying at home one night when your uncle had knocked forcefully on the door to your bedroom. You barely had a second to answer before he came in and turned your life pretty much on its head.
"Sorry, love, we gotta go. Like now. Up. Pack a bag."
"Go? Where? Wait- why?"
John was already opening your wardrobe and pulling out and depositing clothes into a rucksack.
"I'll explain more when we're out. You're comin' to base for a while."
"Base? B-but I thought I wasn't allowed there…"
"Special circumstances."
John stopped to look at you. You hadn't seen that look on his face before. It scared you.
"Uncle John.. what's going on?"
John took a deep breath. "I put you in danger, love. I'm sorry."
That night you left what you had called your home for years with a rucksack and a carrier bag of everything you deemed vital.
The drive to base (John never told you its official name) was filled with hours of anxiety, silence and patchy radio. He explained to you a little while he was driving: an intel leak, personnel details, family details, addresses, targets, danger.
That night you lay in a bed that wasn't your own, trying so hard to hold back tears until you felt your chest burst open all at once.
So much. Too much to process. The one place you had been safe in wasn't safe at all and was ripped from you in the space of an evening.
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
Adjusting to life on a military base was one of the hardest things you ever had to do, and yet… it had its perks at the same time.
While you were there technically as a civilian, John thought it best for you to engage with the protocols as best you could, that way he could ensure your safety even when he was actively deployed.
Strict and enforced routines was something you hadn't realised you needed so badly in your life.
7AM Breakfast. 8AM Laps. 9AM Free period for you while the other recruits your age did weapons practice (you were very much unqualified for that). 1PM Lunch. 2PM onwards was private study for you to keep up with your university work. 7PM Dinner and showers.
It took a couple of weeks, but you slowly started to feel safe in this brand new world. Nobody was there to call you rude or brash for speaking out of turn because you knew exactly when was your time to speak. You knew exactly what was expected of you because it was written for you in a handbook you had analysed and annotated accordingly.
Some days were more difficult than others, naturally. Uncle John was deployed for much of your first few weeks on base. Some nights you would be anxious and unable to sleep, so you would sneak your way down the hall to his room to sleep in his empty bed for a while. The blanket he had there felt like home… almost.
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
Your uncle returned eventually and you finally got to meet the people that made up TF141.
The man called Soap was the biggest character of them. He made you laugh and you thought his accent was funny.
The man called Gaz was kind to you and made you feel welcomed.
The woman called Laswell you thought was simply a bad-ass.
And the man called Ghost…
You felt his presence in the way he walked in the room. The height he stood at sent a weight dropping low into your stomach. Broad shoulders and dark shadows. Cold eyes that scanned you from head to toe, sending heat straight to your face before you could stop it.
You were almost relieved when he turned his attention away from you, you didn't think you could handle it for much longer.
Afterwards, you carried on as normal--whatever 'normal' had become.
But he was always there. Your eyes found him in the hallways without your permission.
The man in the skull mask.
The very big man in the strangely attractive skull mask. You couldn't snap yourself out of it no matter how you tried. You'd find yourself staring across the mess hall and then internally berating yourself for being a creep. 'He's just a guy. A lieutenant. It's no big deal. Get over it,' you'd tell yourself.
No big deal. Some silly impulsive feelings. It will pass.
Right?
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
"You ever learn strategy?" Gaz asked you as you sat down to eat lunch one day.
"Strategy? You mean, like, tactics and stuff?"
"Mm," Gaz nodded with a mouthful of mashed potato. "Ghost teaches it."
"Oh, really? I-… no, I've never learned."
"I think you'd enjoy it. Super technical shit. I'll ask him."
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
"You wanna take my class. That right?"
"I- Well-" you stammered out. Being cornered in the break room kitchen by the lieutenant himself had not been in your projections for the day.
"Not sayin' you can't. I'm just surprised, is all."
"Oh!" That made your heartrate settle a little. "I just like learning stuff, I guess. I like the systems."
"Systems? That an autism thing?"
Shit. You didn't realise he knew about that. It should've crossed your mind that Uncle John might tell people, but you stupidly hadn't thought about it. You rattled your mind desperately for an answer but nothing sounded good enough to say out loud.
Ghost decided to take you even further off guard when he spoke again.
"Not to come off as rude or anythin', but… can you explain it to me? The whole autism thing. I don't get it."
"Oh. Uhm… explain what it is or..?" The question was blunt for sure, but it didn't sound hostile to you. Maybe he was genuinely asking.
"Yeah. Why's it different or whatever."
"Oh, well, uhm…" How do you explain a whole system of thinking and experience briefly to a man you would really like to respect you. "I have an analogy that I think works pretty good."
"Go ahead." Ghost leant back against the kitchen countertops, which, next to him, looked child-sized. He waited for you to speak.
"Well, if you imagine your brain as a computer, then it runs on software, right? Autism is like… my brain runs on really slow software compared to other people. It's slow to process a lot of things, and if there is too much information at once then the whole system might start buffering or shutdown. And then also certain things might take a whole lot of processing power that needs time to recharge and stuff. Kind of like that… I guess.." You trailed off towards the end, slightly embarrassed having explained the inner workings of your mind to a man you barely knew.
"Huh. Alright, then."
…
That was it? No questions? No judgement? Just… acceptance?
There was a brief moment of silence while Ghost tapped his fingers on the countertop. It looked as though he was deep in thought.
"Thursday. If you wanna take a class of mine, come sit in the session on Thursday morning."
"Really?!" Far too much excitement, you knew it was, but you couldn't help it. "Thank you!"
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
Thursday rolled around after days of tedious waiting and barely concealed anticipation. An actual military class on a subject that fascinated you, and taught by a man you had every intention of finding out as much as you could about.
He fascinated you almost as much as the learning did.
Why the mask? Where did he grow up? Where did he learn all of the things he knows?
You'd heard whispers and stories of legendary operations performed by the 141 team and your uncle. In each of them, the man called Ghost was a legend made of skill and fear and bloodlust… a contrast to the man in the kitchen who seemed genuinely curious as to how your brain worked differently from his own.
You sat yourself at the back of the room as you always do (if there is a wall against your back, the chances of you being startled from behind are far smaller). Some of the recruits gave you nods and waves as they saw you, some gave you looks you couldn't even begin to analyse. Making friends was never one of your skillsets, but you had always tried to be kind to the people around you.
Dead silence fell over the tables when Ghost walked in.
You imagined that was the same kind of power ancient leaders held once upon a history. The kind of aura that shuts a person the hell up dare they speak in your vicinity.
You watched as his eyes swept the room.
Did he linger on you? You couldn't tell. Surely not… he just acknowledged your presence. Yeah… that.
There was absolutely no time wasted in learning. The content came at you quickly and in a barrage of information and new terms you had to scribble down to lookup later on. Ghost didn't stutter or stumble his words. He said exactly what he needed to say without a filler word in sight. It was more than impressive. You were hooked.
Midway into the 2-hour session, the lieutenant allowed you a short break. You were absolutely overloaded with new information. Your pages of notes were rushed and squashed in a desperate attempt to get everything down. You felt like you had run a mental marathon, but god, it felt rewarding. You were so consumed with your notes you didn't hear him approach your table. Why would you? The man is called Ghost for a reason.
"You wrote a lot."
You nearly jumped out of your chair.
"Oh sh--! I- I… uhm… yeah." Fake a smile. Act like a normal person.
You couldn't see it, but a hint of a smile tugged at Ghost's mouth under the mask.
"Ready to do the scenarios?"
"The what?"
"Scenarios," he repeated. "I outline a possible scenario in the field, and you have to talk me through how you achieve the objective."
"Oh right. I've never done that before…"
Ten minutes later, it started to make much more sense. Ghost showed the class a building's schematics, pointed out hostile and targets, and outlined the objectives. That didn't make you any less mortified when he called on you to give an answer.
"Miss Price. You reckon you could give us a route?"
Fuck. Shit. He did that on purpose right? Probably to get you never to come back to this class. Unfortunately for him, this subject had your mind working full speed and you were loving it.
Think. What's obvious? What would these other people say? What's going to impress him?
"I think I would start on the roof and go down the north stairwell. You only encounter one hostile that route and it still gives you adequate time before the hostiles on the floor below are alerted. I think."
You don't know what you had expected the reaction to be, but the silence that followed your answer made you almost anxious.
Ghost held your gaze for too long. You had to look somewhere else.
"Three years I've been doing this course…" Ghost's voice permeated the silence. "And no student has ever had the balls to suggest entering via the rooftops. Not bad for your first class."
That wasn't a lie either. Ghost had been assigned this course a couple years back after losing a game of rock-paper-scissors to Soap. While Soap got to teach recruits to headshot target dummies, Ghost had the arduous task of teaching those same recruits to not just barge in straight through the front door. 'Testosterone fuelled, egotistical, arrogant little shits, the lot of 'em' had been Ghost's exact words at the time.
Now, though… now there was a pretty girl in the back of his class with eyes that saw routes and methods even he wouldn't think of immediately.
Simon Riley felt almost… excited for his next class.
part two coming soon!
☁️ tysm for reading!! notes and criticism super appreciated, i want to do this series justice :)
tags : ghost's pov, ghost x sunshine!reader, hurt/comfort!!, confessions finally?!
warnings : context of grief/loss - nonspecific
word count : ~1500
☁️ notes : i need a hug, ghost needs a hug, you probably need a hug.
𑣲⋆ part one / part two / part three
My sunshine girl is missing.
“What do you mean you haven't seen her?”
“Haven't seen her. She put in a sick note a couple days ago. Sorry, LT,” said the officer currently sat behind the armoury desk where she would usually be perched.
Sick note? She's never sick; and even if she is, she's a stubborn little thing and drags herself to her post even on the verge of death.
She wouldn't just disappear like that. Not without telling me first.
So I did what any rational and concerned citizen would do: I started tracking her.
Her sick note was logged on the 5th of the month, no specified illness—odd again as she usually notes it. I snuck into the security room late in the day to check the cameras. No sign of her on that day. I skip through footage from the previous day and spot her leaving base at an ungodly hour in the morning. The CCTV only covers a little further than the gates, so I have no choice but to track her through legally grey methods and cameras I’ve hacked into across town. The timeline looks like this:
0515 — She leaves the compound with only a rucksack.
0542 — She arrives at the train station in the nearby town.
0557 — She buys a coffee from the station shop.
0611 — She boards a train. I can see her on the platform bundled in that big coat of hers to shelter from the wind.
A quick search of the timetables tells me the train is destined for…
Oh. She's going home? That’s the same town listed as her home address on her records.
She wouldn't just up and leave on a whim if it wasn't serious, I’m sure of it.
So why the bloody hell didn’t she say anything?
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
The anxiety takes over, and later that same afternoon I’m dressed in civilian clothes and leaving the compound.
Could my behaviour be considered stalker-ish? Probably. But what if she needs me? What if something happened and she didn't have anyone there with her? What if she got herself involved in something dangerous? God- I don’t even want to think about the consequences of that.
I gave Price a heads up that I was going on emergency leave.
I tried to call her phone and was sent straight to voicemail. Texts left on delivered. Location turned off on her map.
Hey. Just checking you’re safe, get back to me ASAP.
Sent at 4:19pm.
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
The train engine rumbles as we venture further out of the capital and into the rolling fields of the English countryside.
I can’t stop thinking. The worry I have for this woman has got me all tangled up like a pathetic loser. I know she’s probably fine—she’s a grown woman and perfectly capable of handling herself.
But that nagging little voice…
I scroll back through our texts to distract myself. The last thing she sent me was a video about turtles.
I had made a comment that one of her jackets reminded me of the colour of sea turtles. This spiralled unfathomably quickly into her telling me everything she knew about them and their habitats. I never interrupt when she has something to tell me, in fact, I find it kind of adorable that she can prattle on about nonsense like turtles at any given moment.
“B-but the babies! They're just trying to get to sea,” she mumbles with a prominent bottom lip, pointing at the video she had just sent to my phone.
“You know you're ridiculous, right, luv?”
“Yeah- well- you're just dead inside.”
Ouch. That one stung a little.
I pinch her knee lightly in retaliation. She squeaks and smacks my hand away. A moment later she mumbles a ‘sorry’ as if she was actually going to hurt me with that weak little hit.
Silence settled again afterwards as we spent another lazy hour on the break room sofa together.
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
Turns out long train rides are really quite useful for introspective discussion.
I think I have feelings for her.
Seriously? The cold’n’hard bastard takes a fancy to the sunshine-personified girl he can never have? What a load of bollocks.
You would think after fifteen years of disciplined military service that I would be able control myself better, and yet here I am making my way through the barriers of the platform and out into the high street of her home town.
The streetlights are flicking on one by one in the fading daylight. I memorised her home address, naturally, before I left. Finding my way around unfamiliar places is a specialty of mine honed even more precisely with the job. If I can find my way out of a jungle in Peru in the dead of night on an hour of sleep, I can find my way to a cul de sac in a little English town.
Her place is cute. A small, red-brick end terrace with white windows and a pale green door. There’s a small square of garden out front with bushes and flowers I couldn’t name. I wonder if she planted them.
Now that I’m here, I’m realising I didn’t entirely think this through.
What on earth do I say?
“Hey, luv, I just happened to follow you out here for no real reason and-”
Idiot. Bloody idiot.
Three raps on the wood seals my fate before I can change my mind.
There’s shuffling behind the door, then a clunk of a lock before it opens.
My sunshine girl stands in the doorway. She’s wearing an all black outfit; a stark contrast to the clothes I usually see her in. I can see the red rims of her eyes and smudged mascara. I don’t need to ask what she came home for. She looks like she’d seen death today, and that was probably the truth.
“Oh, luv, I’m sorry-”
I didn’t mean for the words to do any harm, but the moment they left my mouth it was as if she shattered.
I’d seen her cry once before after a particularly stressful shift, but that time she had simply picked herself up and carried on with her day. This was different. These tears held weight I simply couldn’t understand, like the world had broken into pieces and every piece was her burden to bear.
I moved without hesitation, stepping through the doorway and wrapping myself around her; one arm surrounding her shoulders and the other cradling her head to my chest.
“Hey- hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, I got ya, luv.”
Her sobs and sniffles didn’t cease. I could feel the hot pants of her struggling breaths through my t-shirt.
I pushed the door closed behind me and guided her backwards through the ground floor into the living room.
I sat us down on her sofa—covered with soft blankets, as expected of her—and kept her trembling form tight to my chest.
She’s so warm. So fucking soft. I can’t be sitting here thinking about how bloody well she fits in my arms when she’s crying, dammit.
My fingers tightened their grip on her shoulder when another sob broke free from her throat.
“It’s okay- you’re alright, luv.”
I don’t know how long exactly I held her like that. Tears soaked into my chest, her hands gripped the fabric of my jacket, and I kept muttering as many comforting things as I thought she needed to hear.
She pulled back eventually, creating a chasm of cold air between my body and hers.
“Yer a right state, luv,” I said, an understated comment on the wet of her cheeks and red flush of her skin. “Why didn’t you say anythin’? You just disappeared on me.”
“I know, I’m sorry I-” She sniffled again. “I got a call last night and it was so sudden and I didn’t even have time to pack anything… I just had to get here.”
I could see the shame in her eyes. The suddenness of the whole thing that must’ve thrown her off so completely that she didn’t even have the capacity to talk to me.
I let the quiet linger for a little longer. What she absolutely doesn’t need right now is me interrogating her on who or when or why she couldn’t respond to her messages.
She fidgets with her hands in her lap while her eyes stare at the floor in front of us like it holds the answers to relieving her of her heartache.
”Did you follow me?”
Yes.
“Yes.”
I can already feel the next question coming in the way her eyes find mine. Why?
“I... had to know you were safe.”
I don’t know what to do with my hands either now that she’s let go.
Do I touch her again? Comfort her? Is that too far? Did I already cross some invisible boundary by showing up here?
I mean- what the bloody hell was I thinking! Following my subordinate off base just because she left a sudden sick note probably doesn’t read as appropriate behaviour by anyone’s standards. I’m half surprised she even let me in here. Hell, what if she was sick? What if she didn’t open the door and I got stuck a hundred miles from the compound or—
I was so caught up in my internal rambling that I missed the words she said.
“What was that?”
“Oh… I said ‘thank you’. For, y’know… coming to check on me.”
I felt my heart do a strange double beat in my chest. I show up at her door with no warning to find her in the most vulnerable state I’ve ever seen her… and she’s thanking me??
“Well I-” I stopped. I considered lying and pretending this was just a CO checking on his subordinate.
Who am I even fuckin' kidding. I can’t lie to her.
“I saw the sick note and I got worried. You never just leave like that. I thought maybe if you were in danger and couldn’t tell me- that- that I needed t’be here,” I force a deep breath. “’Cause I care about you, sunshine.”
My head felt like it had just ascended 8000 feet into the air. I’ve never admitted anything like that to anybody.
After a second of suffocating silence, I flicked my eyes up to her face.
She was looking at me like I had just handed her the Earth on a silver platter. Shimmering, gorgeous eyes stared back at me with so much warmth… like she had been waiting for me to say those words her entire life. That gave me all the confidence I needed to continue.
“I care about you… far more than I should. And I- I hate seeing you cry. An'm sorry it took me so long to get here, because I don’t ever want you tryna do this shit on your own, alright?”
Tears spilled onto her cheeks once again. I battled the voice in my head before letting my heart win out. I lifted my hand to her face, gently brushing a tear with my thumb. She leaned in, letting me cup her face in my hand like it was a natural thing for us to do. Her skin was so soft. So bloody beautiful even when she’s upset.
“… And you are well within your rights to tell me to bugger off back to base but I—”
“Stay,” she whispered. “Please.”
Do you ever feel like a piece is missing? Like there was some part of you that got left behind somewhere in the depths of your past? Like a special piece of jewellery left behind on a holiday trip when you were little that you can never quite replace with anything else. Whatever it was that passed between us then felt like that missing piece had just clicked into place inside my chest.
Every thought in my brain, every feeling and sensation in my body was—in that moment—her’s. It was like nothing that had ever came before her existed anymore. Like the blood on my hands was washed away in a singular motion by her fingertips.
In this world, with her, maybe I’m not a monster. Maybe I am somebody she could care for… love, even. I’ve never really known what that word means, but I think this woman is the person to show me. How to love and how to be loved.
I would give my beating heart to her hands if I could.
“Anything. Anything you want.”
☁️ this is kinda sappy but i dont even careee, i think simon would be so gentle with the people he loves even if he doesn't know quite how to show it :,)
notes and comments super duper appreciated!! i think ill write one more chap for this series then start something new heh
tags : ghost's pov, ghost x sunshine!reader, implied age gap, accurate british accent ghost
warnings : tame nsfw! (mdni), m masturbation, mention of f masturbation, virginity fantasy, daddy kink if you squint
word count : ~900
☁️ notes : this is my first writing with any smut so... i really hope its okay??? if this has good responses then i may try and write more heh. tysm for the love on the last parts!!
𑣲⋆ part one / part two
I am a disgusting, dirty, old man.
After weeks of my little infatuation with her it finally happened: I got myself off thinking of her.
I didn't mean to! Well- not at first, anyway.
When I get off it's usually quick and mechanical—a simple release so I can get on with my day. I was in the shower last night and from the edge of my mind, she appeared. So sweet. So achingly perfect.
Evidently, I couldn’t help myself anymore.
She’s been an infection in my mind these past couple weeks; my little sunshine girl. Waving at me in the corridors, sitting with me to eat even when I choose complete silence, wishing me a safe return when I leave for another mission in a location I’m not allowed to tell her. I swear, it’s almost like she was specifically designed to get under my skin and take down my defences from the inside.
Gaz clocked onto my little act of ‘favouritism’ a couple weeks ago and has not let me live a second of it down since. Bastard.
You’re staring again.
What? ‘M’not doin’ shit.
Gaz made an obnoxious snorting sound in response to my defensiveness.
He was right, of course. I was staring. I was leant against the side of the command centre watching her run laps with the rest of her unit for no reason other than my own selfish desire to.
You gonna do anything other than be a creepy CO?
Do anything? Like wha’?
Like what? Ha! Like… make a pass before one of the rookies does?
The idea of making any kind of move towards her had only crossed my mind once before and it was fleeting. I can’t just ask her out like I’m picking her up at a bar or something. I’m at least a decade her senior and—while not her commanding officer directly—a far higher rank than she is that it would be inappropriate.
A second, and more pressing issue would be her response.
Even if I had the balls to ask her out, there is every chance she would just stand there and stare at me with those big eyes and then laugh in my face. Though I highly doubt she’d do that, that’s still a risk I’m not stupid enough to take yet.
For now, I will settle with watching from afar. Who’s to say she’d even be interested in a guy like me anyway?
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
Distance doesn’t stop me thinking about her. In fact, the almost constant surveillance I have on her is starting to fuel something much more problematic. I know where she is on base at all times. I make a detour on my rounds to check in on her in the armoury nearly every day. I save her one of the cookies the mess hall has on the days I know she’s on a late shift.
A particularly stressful debriefing left me more than frustrated by the time I finished my rounds for the day and had gotten back to my bunk room.
Hot water spits and hisses from the showerhead. The water dripping down my back does absolutely nothing to lessen the thrumming feeling under my skin. It feels like there’s a pressurised can of energy in my body I just need to release.
I know exactly what I could do to fix that. Mechanical. Just get the tension out.
A couple deep breaths clear my mind into the quiet space I need and my hand finds its place without more thought.
I never think of someone when I do this usually. I don’t have the capacity to be recollecting ex hook-ups just to get myself off quick.
I don’t notice my mind has drifted to her until I can see her pretty face so vividly. My hand stops in response to the spike of panic that just shot up my spine.
Not her…
Anyone but her…
‘Who would know?’ my ego unhelpfully suggests.
No.
Yes.
It’s not right.
Oh, but those pretty little lips…
My hand restarts its rhythm and the thoughts flow unrelentingly.
She's young. I wonder if she's had anyone yet. What if she hasn't? God, she’d be so cute if she was shy. So tight I can't get it in all the way. The sounds she'd make taking it. Hands clawing down my back—
The next thing I know, I’m pumping myself through an orgasm more intense than any in the past three years.
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
My subordinate. Not just that—the youngest, most innocently precious person on base… and I fucked my fist fantasising what she'd sound like when she came.
The universe must've taken pity on me because I didn't cross her path for the next two days. I don’t think I could look her in the eye after that.
The third day, though? I was fucked. I had to go see her.
I swear I could feel eyes on the back of my head watching me all the way down to the armoury.
Pervert. It had to be her, didn't it? You had to pick the ball of sunshine girl to use in your depraved porno fantasy.
What would she say? She would—
What if she liked that? Would her cheeks go that pretty shade of pink knowing I got off with her name on my tongue? Maybe she does the same, too. Maybe she uses those little hands on herself thinking of me… needing me to help her come… begging “please, please,” when she gets close…
I am going to walk into this room with a fucking hard on at this rate.
Stop it. Stop thinking.
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
“Hi Ghostie!” Calls that perfectly chirpy voice the second she lays eyes on me, accompanied by that wide smile I’ve come to like so much. I reluctantly let her call me that sometimes… it sounds cute coming from her. Only her. And don’t let Gaz know that.
“Hey, luv. New hair?” Little braids clipped up at the sides with the flowers she likes. Beautiful on her.
“You like it?”
“I do.” I really do.
A tinge of pink blushes across her cheeks. I bloody love that colour.
Focus. Here on business.
“You brought something for me?” she asks, taking note of the weapon in my hands.
“Barrel’s jammed. Need summat new.”
“Mmm,” she hums, holding the rifle up to inspect the make and model.
I still find the image of her with weapons slightly disconcerting despite the fact she is the base’s resident ammunitions expert.
“We got some pieces shipped in yesterday if you'd like to see them?”
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
After following her through to the storage room (and trying very hard not to stare at her ass, might I add), I find myself faced with a wall decked floor to ceiling with assault rifles.
I can’t hold back a whistle. “Some proper beauties in ‘ere, luv.”
She picks up one from the far left and presents it to me. Matte black, extended barrel, detachable scope.
She rattles off the details and specs to me as if she read the manual just minutes ago. Apparently I find that rather attractive as well.
I don't know what I find cuter: the fact that she can memorise the specs of highly specialised ammunitions, or the fact that she's stood next to me like a puppy waiting for praise for bringing its owner a toy.
I oblige. How can I not?
“Good pick, luv. Really good.”
I don’t know if it was bravery or cockiness that overtook my body, but I found myself patting her shoulder gently while I inspected the new piece with my other hand.
In my peripheral vision I saw her smile drop, but only to morph into the most adorable little shocked face I’ve ever seen. Bright eyes stared up at me like I’d just shown her the stars.
You’d think she'd never been touched like that before… I wondered if she actually hadn't.
I had to consciously fight the smirk tugging at my lips.
When I dropped my hand, her cheeks flushed beet red. She stammered out some excuse of ‘checking something’ and hurried off quicker than I’d ever seen her move.
Bloody hell, that was cute.
Note to self: definitely try that again sometime.
☁️ ty for reading!! notes and comments are super appreciated <3
tags : sunshine!reader x ghost, ghost's pov, pining, implied age gap, angsty?, accurate british accent ghost
warnings : mentions of injury+canon level violence, one mention of alcohol
word count : ~700
☁️ notes : i love this dynamic so baddd, this is my second ever post so i hope its okay :(
𑣲⋆ part 1 here !
Life continued with my little sunshine girl in the armoury.
I’d be deployed for days and return to a bright smile and a soothing warmth only she seemed able to provide me.
I found myself making accommodations for her I would never dream of if it was anyone else. I stopped drinking so heavily post-mission after she told me she had familial history with alcohol. There is no way I would ever show up in front of her, a bottle of jack in my system, and make her uncomfortable.
If it's later on in the day and I have time, I swing by the vending machines to bring her something for while she’s on shift. She seemed to like the chocolate bars best.
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
One mission had left me with gauze and bandages on my forearm—the result of a shitty little bastard who got a little too knife-happy when we cornered him. That day she stepped out from behind the armoury desk when I opened the door. That wasn't something she did often. I wondered if maybe the physical barrier between her and the rest of us made her feel safer in some way.
She came to stand in front of me, eyes wide with worry and concern, darting down to my injury and back up to my face over and over.
“Are you okay? Y-you-” she stammered.
“’M fine, luv. Scratch, tha’s all.”
“Are you sure? I mean it looks pretty bad.” A frown tugged at her lips then. God, they look soft.
“I swear, sunshine. S’all good.” I brought my arm up and flexed to demonstrate to her that I was actually okay.
Her hair drooped into her face as she inspected closer. Her hand reached up hovering just centimetres away—delicate fingers too scared to make contact—before she pulled them away again.
I had to consciously ignore the warm feeling in my stomach. It's almost like I wanted her to touch me.
…
Bloody hell, I want her to touch me.
No words had been shared for an uncomfortably long space of time. We just stood together in a bubble of atmosphere while the rest of base faded away.
“Luv, did y’even listen t’me?” I sound so soft when it's her.
She mumbled something sounding close to an apology before taking a step back out of my personal space.
But, oh, the look in her eyes when she looked back up at me—like she actually worries about me when I’m gone. This sweet little thing, a decade my junior, actually worries if I get hurt in the field.
That made the stupid beating thing in my chest ache.
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
Later that night I was lay in my bunk staring at the ceiling.
The floodlights on the yards outside had just clunked off for curfew, and I could just about make out the shape of the ceiling fan above me in the darkness. Internal monologue consumed everything in my mind.
I don't deserve it. I don't deserve her.
I have ruined more lives than anyone on any red notice list. I have murdered more men than even I care to keep count of anymore—god knows I tried once. I have slashed and sliced and shot my way through the past ten years so viciously I should be rightfully be given a death sentence.
A man like me doesn't deserve the light of a woman like her.
I can't ever repay her heart or her kindness or her care or the gentle way she looks at me. I don't deserve the way she sees me like I’m something to be wanted. I sure as hell don't deserve the sweet little smiles she gives me that make a buried part of me feel more human again.
I want it, though. Fuckin’ hell I want that.
I crave it.
As selfish as I know it is, I want the warmth she radiates. I want her to keep looking at me like I hung the moon before her eyes and I want the smiles she gives to be forever mine and mine alone.
Hell, I think I’d sit at her feet like a dog if she asked me to; so long as it kept her smiling at me like that.
Years of blood and violence and meaningless existence feel like ancient memories when I’m around her.
I think I’ve found my lighthouse, and I’ll be damned if I let this slip from me.
𑣲⋆ part 3 here !
☁️ thank you for reading !! comments and criticism are hugely appreciated <3
tags : ghost x sunshine trope, ghost's pov, sunshine!reader insert(?), teeny vague description of reader
warnings : none. cute and fluffy.
word count : ~700
☁️ notes : this is messy!! i had a lot of ideas in my brain to put all into one place but i hope its okay :)
A will to live is hard to find most days. I guess that's just part of the contract when you subject the rest of your life to the military.
I could've quit when Johnny died, but I know exactly what the bastard would say:
“Don't be a tosser! Don't throw in the towel just ‘cause I got done in. You an’ me both know you do this job better than any fucker else who tries ta. If you're not gonna be Ghost, then who else is?”
And he’d be right if he said it.
This mask is mine.
My burden wear, and one that I pray will die with me in the end.
So I keep grinding through it. Wake up, fight a terrorist, fly home, drink until I can't remember it. Wake up, take down a militant group, fly home, train my body until I can't feel the difference between the burning of my muscles or the newest scar in my collection making itself known. Then repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Eventually, one day, as if sent by the heavens themselves, a young lass will appear and make you believe in light again.
I first saw her passing in the hallway trailing behind Gaz, arms clutched close to her torso, completely out of place on a specialist military compound. I took little notice. Then a week later after a mission in Nepal, I saw her again. I was returning my rifles to the armoury. I’d heard whispers that the previous guy manning the desk had retired. The keypad on the armoury door made that awful chirping sound as I opened it.
The ammunitions storage is barricaded from the front by a floor-to-ceiling, steel reinforced glass panel. The centre opens up with a little window to the wooden desk shelf where the log books are kept. I always thought the layout looked a little prison-like... but I figure all layouts like this are regulation standard bullshit.
I place the rifles on the counter. The clunking must've alerted her because a moment later the girl appears from the store room.
She looks even more out of place in here than she did in the hallway. Like a baby deer in the middle of the road.
She smiled at me; that was the first thing that got me about it.
Nobody smiles at me. I’m Ghost—the badass no nonsense scares the shit out of anyone he meets lieutenant. People don't smile at me.
She did. So sweetly it felt tooth-rotting. I won’t lie and say I ignored her. Oh no. I took a very good long look.
Sparkly eyes. Messy hair. Flower hair clip of some description (definitely not regulation but who am I to comment). Shorter than me. Significantly. If she wasn't up in that booth I’d say she met my chest height.
And more sweetness in the way her words rolled out of her mouth like syrup:
“Hi! Sorry, I should introduce myself. I’m…”
Perfect.
What? Don't get distracted, Simon.
“Just returning these, luv.”
She gave a nod in response and that was the entirety of our first interaction.
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
Every time I went back, it got worse. Or better. I don't know.
Small talk went surprisingly smoothly for me. Usually, I don't even attempt to start it. But it was only a couple more conversations later that I was asking her about the hair clips she wore.
Oh! These? I collect them! It's a little silly but-
S’not silly, luv. How many you got?
Uhm…
She made little gestures with her hands as if she was counting her collection in front of her.
Thats a hell of a “few”. You make them?
Mhm!
That little nod again. God, I’m starting to find that cute.
So… you collect flowers, then dry them out, then make jewellery with them? You ever thought about selling ‘em?
A hum.
I don't know… I don't think anybody would like them but me, really-
I like them.
Fuck. Didn't mean to let that one slip.
But the smile that graced her face after I said it made me glad I did.
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
I nicknamed her Sunshine for obvious reasons.
Apparently, it caught on between the other ranks because on my next visit to the armoury I overheard the sergeant in front of me call to her with an overly friendly “See ya, sunshine!” as he was on his way out.
I didn't like that. Something about a sergeant getting too friendly with her…
Jesus Christ. Who am I? Her guard dog?
Yes, she's probably the youngest of the personnel on base. Yes, she is objectively quite pretty. Yes, she's kind and carries an air of innocence rarely found in places like these--
I still don't like the idea of one of these bastards trying something. It won't come as a surprise that a whole lot of the guys on base are a little pent up, so to speak.
“Hey, luv.”
“Hi, LT,” she says with that bright smile.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
Why? Hell, I don't know. I don't know why I’m here. I don't need any ammo. I was on my way to the mess hall for dinner and my boots seemed to bring me here.
I've noticed that happening more and more frequently lately. I’ll wander aimlessly and inevitably end up right back here where she is. The room that her giggles echo. The ledge where I can rest my arms and pretend I’m not here solely to talk to the ball of sunshine girl in the armoury.
“You eaten?”
A shake of her head in response.
“You going to eat?”
“Eventually..”
I’ve learned to recognise that tone of voice too. It's the tone she uses when she's clearly not looking after herself but she doesn't want it to be anyone else's problem.
“Luv.”
I swear her eyes change when I use my assertive tone. Reminds me of a kid being scolded on the school playground.
I wonder where she grew up.
⋆ ⋆ ┄ ⋆ 🦴 ⋆ ┄ ⋆ ⋆
It takes very little encouragement to get her to come with me to the mess hall. Tomato pasta today.
It's strange how natural it feels sitting across from her like this. She pokes pieces of pasta on her fork in a style that makes me think she's never seen pasta before in her life.
Silence settles. Cutlery clinks. Privates finishing drills chatter away at other tables. My eyes flick up to her again.
I need to stop doing that.
I can’t stop, however, when I find her looking straight back at me.
“What?” Defensive, as is usual for me.
“N-nothing, sorry, just-… you never take the mask off.” Her head bows as if she's embarrassed she took notice my mask was pulled up.
I’m a little surprised too that she took that much notice. Old scars and stubble is all my mask really hides anymore.
"Nothin’ good under it worth seein', luv.”
“I don't know about that...” The words are so quiet from her lips you’d miss them if you weren't listening. I was.
Her eyes meet mine again, and in that moment I watch her cheeks flush. Just a little.
So cute.
Stop it, Riley
𑣲⋆ part 2 here !
☁️ tysm for reading <3 comments and critique super welcome!!
