His Muse ( Simon Riley x Soap MacTavish x Reader )

Eight

Over 2,000 words, I hope you enjoy ;)

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He's carrying me inside, from what I can tell.

All the blood I've lost has made my head a little foggy. Crimson stains my shirt making it smell of iron. Ghost places me down on the ground and takes his pocket knife out. He quickly cuts my pants to create a larger hole to expose the wound. I watch him pull off his belt and place it in my mouth.

"Bite," he commands, and I comply.

I see Soap almost stumble next to me with a medical kit. He looks at Ghost while doing this and listens to him intently.

"Hand me the tweezers," Ghost doesn't take his eyes off my leg as Soap hands it to him.

I can't help but look away at this moment as sheer agony rips through my body when he tries to retrieve the bullet from my leg. My eyes squeeze shut as I yell in pain. My hand reaches the closest thing to try and relieve the tension. Soap grabs my hand and lets me dig my nails in it. He doesn't react as I do this, looking at me with pure emotion written across his face. He seems to be suffering with me by the way his eyes dart from my leg to my eyes. His jaw clenches every time I express pain. I draw my gaze away from him to the wall behind. I don't want to look at him right now.

_________________________________

"Wren, I need you to sit up so I can see your shoulder." Soap is looking at me with concern.

I look up at him for a few seconds, feeling the soreness spread across my senses. I passed out at some point. Looking around, I realize I'm still on the ground with a sheet covering my body and a rolled-up blanket under my head.

How long have I been out?

As I attempt to sit up, pain shoots up my body. I wince but try and push the feeling out of my head. I have to stay strong, if not for them but for myself. He watches me, delicately placing his hand over my back to steady me.

I look at my leg for the first time. The bandage is white and perfectly wrapped around my thigh. My whole pant leg is ruined from what Ghost tore of it. That's the least of my worries, though.

"Ghost knows what he's doing," Soap says, noticing what caught my eye.

"Where is he?" I ask, looking up at him.

"He went to get some air." Soap studies my expression.

I turn my head to the doors that lead outside when I'm reminded of my injury stinging my neck. Soap said the bullet didn't hit my carotid artery, barely missing it. Which caused me slight relief and discomfort at the same time. Today could've been my last day.

"I need to sterilize the wound and stitch that up, too," He looks at my shoulder and hesitates for a moment.

"Can I?" He looks at me, waiting for an answer.

I waver for a moment before nodding my head.

Soap proceeds to pull off one side of my shirt carefully as I help with one hand. I pull my head through it and grimace as I move my arm so he can take the other side off. I then pull the strap of my tank top off my shoulder. He sets the shirt down slowly as he assesses my wound. I turn my head to the side to expose it better.

"Is it bad," I ask.

"Nah, it'll heal up nice, might leave a scar though. Let me go grab the equipment."

He comes back with the same medical kit that was used earlier. He steps behind me, kneeling. My breath hitches as he moves my hair over my other shoulder. His fingertips grazed my skin, sending chills down my spine. He wipes a cold cloth thoroughly over the wound before speaking.