Friendly Fire (fem Y/N)

Chapter 1: Dirty Hits

    You and Simon "Ghost" Riley never quite got along. Always competing against each other, a nice word never being exchanged between the two of you. It was not often that the two of you argued over petty matters, or chose each other as sparring partners to throw a dirty punch or two. Today was no different.      

  "You fuckin' tosser, that was a dirty hit," Ghost growled as your knee pinned his head to the sweaty mat. You were positioned on his back in a way that caused him pain to escape from his grasp, a situation he hadn't expected himself to be in. 

   "What? Can't get up?" You hissed in response, digging your knee further onto his skull. You're causing him a bit of pain now. He grunts underneath you, writhing in anger. He lets out a loud grunt before hoisting himself upward, throwing you onto your back. You quickly stand up, only to be slammed to the ground. Ghost's burly figure had you pinned to the mat now.

   "Pathetic bitch," he spat, his scarred hands slamming your forearms to the mat. You let out a groan of pain. You fought against his grasp, but it seemed like it only tightened on you with each struggle. In the eyeholes of his mask, you could almost see his eyes smile sadistically at the pain he was causing you. 

   The pain became a bit unbearable as his hands were now squeezing your wrists as if the bones inside were beginning to falter under his immense strength. You writhed a bit more before sighing in defeat. "Fine. Just get the fuck off now," you grumble. You were met with more pressure on your wrists and a sickening glare from Ghost. 

   "For fuck's sake, Y/N, don't be a wet blanket. Fun's just started," Ghost's gravelly voice reverberated in your left ear as his head lowered beside yours. "Can't handle a little... pressure?"

    You let out a pained groan as the grip tightened. "Jesus, let go," you grumbled, disguising the pain in your voice. Ghost's eyes squinted a bit as if he was scowling beneath his balaclava, his warm breath just falling short of your face.

   "Don't be a pussy," he snarled back with venom. A couple of recruits began to gather around the two of you, debating if they should step in, but all of them lacked the courage to do something. That's when Soap sat up from the bench he was resting on, beginning to approach the two of you.

   "Don't ya think that's enough, LT?" Soap's ragged voice called out to his friend. It seemed as if Ghost completely blocked out his voice. Soap noticed and sped up, beginning to jog towards you two. You continued to writhe under Ghost's grip, an icy fire beginning to spread down your arms. It would be unlikely that the ordeal wouldn't at least leave a few bruises. Right now, you were more focused on the sadistic glint of enjoyment in Ghost's eyes. As if the control he had over you was something he had been craving.

   "Hey! Ghost!" Soap's voice was louder now. You felt the pressure loosen on your wrists as Soap shoved Ghost off of you. Ghost, who was taken by surprise, quickly tried to grab you again, but you had already scurried out from beneath him. Soap stood up, offering a hand to help up Ghost after he had pushed him as a show of good faith. "Got a bit carried away, huh, lad?" He tried to joke, but it was evident he was a bit concerned with the whole situation. 

   Ghost ignored the hand Soap was offering and got up, storming out of the sparring room. The recruits in the room were silent, exchanging glances with each other. You looked down at your wrists. Red as fire, but would soon turn to a black, blue, and green watercolor after an hour or two. Soap glanced at you, his brows furrowed. "The fuck just happened?" 

   You began to attempt to explain, but it felt like the words vomited out of your throat. "I don't know, one second we were sparring and the next it's like he was trying to kill me. He's never been like THAT before," you rambled. Soap placed a hand on your shoulder to silence you.

  "He's aff his heid, don't pay any mind to him," Soap sighed. "Ya didn't do anything wrong, lass. I think he just gets too competitive." He ruffled your hair for a moment. "Ya broken?"

   You shook your head. "I'll be fine, my arms probably aren't. Gonna be sore as hell." You look down at your arms, then back up to Soap. "I'm gonna go confront him. Now that we aren't sparring he has no reason to put his hands on me." As you turn to leave, Soap grabs you by the shoulder. 

   "Ach, haud yer horses, Y/N. Best to let him cool off," Soap suggested, letting go of you. He gave you one last sympathetic look before turning to the recruits, probably to encourage them to stay out of Ghost's path as well. You sighed, and realize Soap is right. Ghost can be a pain in the ass when he's in a mood. You grab your water bottle and head to the mess hall to grab lunch before you hit the showers. 

   As the cold water hits your back, you attempt to contemplate what happened during your spar with Ghost. Was he really just being too competitive? Or was there another motive behind his aggression today? You glanced at your wrists, already showing the early stages of nasty bruises. Regardless of his motives, you felt a determination to confront him for what he did. 

   You had just finished rinsing out your shampoo when a female recruit popped her head into the locker room in which the showers were located. "Hey, Y/N? Captain Price has requested you in his office ASAP." She waited for your acknowledgment before she ducked her head out of the door (you had let out a loud groan in response). This was definitely about the Ghost situation.