Ghost Shorts | Fem!Reader

RAIN VERSION 1

Author Note: This is version one, the almost-smut tension type. There is also a fluffier hurt/comfort style version two (next story) which I never published on tiktok, so have fun if you choose to read either.

***

"You disobeyed my order. You just never fucking LISTEN!"

Ghost stood quickly, slamming his gloved fist into his desk. You flinched as the sound reverberated around your head, clenching your jaw in response. Despite avoiding eye contact with him, you still felt his stare, unblinking and intense.

"I— I'm sorry."

All confidence was stripped away from you by his words. Usually it was easy to brush off a berating this bad, but from him it's different. You had an unexplained desire to impress him and today, you'd managed the complete opposite.

"I don't want to hear your apology."

His tone was cold, his voice low. He heard his heart beating in his ears. Stay calm. He told himself. Don't lose it.

"Never do that again."

He hissed at you though gritted teeth, his voice seeming even deeper. A heat rose into your cheeks, embarrassed, like a scolded child. This was of your own doing, even though you'd rather have an injury than him dead. You looked down at your boots, feeling tears well in your eyes, quickly shaking your head, blinking, a pitiful attempt to reabsorb them.

"Dismissed."

You straightened your posture, wincing in response to your injury as it screamed, opposing the movement. Just a couple bruised ribs from the impact; confirmation the vest actually worked. Eyes raised to meet his, desperate to leave the room. The air so thick with tension you could barely breathe.

"Lieutenant."

The word barely left your mouth as you walked out of his office, fiddling through your t-shirt with the dogs tags that hung constantly around your neck. Like a collar with your name on it. A physical representation of 141's ownership over you. His ownership.

Fuck.

The narrow hallways felt claustrophobic, the need to lie down before your chest caved in, overwhelming. It was a struggle to get comfortable. The scene replayed over and over in your minds eye. It was a miracle it hit your vest really. No wonder Ghost was so angry. The ache in your ribs intertwined with lingering panicked emotions of what if?

What if Ghost had been shot?

They had you out of your bed and standing at the edge of the base as the heavens opened upon you. And he had followed.

Now, you were locked in a stare down. An argument ensuing, persisting against all odds, two stubborn people mixing like fire and fire. Rain seeped out of your saturated hair, running down your face. To be fair, he was in the right, you were in the wrong, but his attitude infuriated you. If only the droplets could wash everything away, but they wouldn't. Temples were thumping, blood coursing at an unreasonable rate through your body.

"Sergeant. Cut the bloody bullshit. Whilst you're on this base, you're also under my command. That's final."

Sergeant. Anger was bubbling as you rolled your eyes. He wouldn't call you by your name, not in this mood. The hairs on your neck unfurled to a stand like leaves on a fern as you watched him step closer.

"You need to rest. That's an order."

It was this you vehemently hated. One minute he was pulling rank, the next, showing signs that he actually cared, he actually felt something. It pissed you off, the nonchalant way he toyed with your head, and it had been this way for months. You detested the whiplash, never emotionally safe in his presence. You continued to leer at him, feeling your nostrils flare slightly in subconscious reaction to your thoughts, lips parting in preparation to snarl your response at him.

"Yes, Lieutenant."

His resurfacing anger clashed with yours in the space between the two bodies as if it were a physical force. The rain continued to pour down, dark eyes boring holes into your skin as your breath got caught in your throat like barbed wire. Fuck this, fuck him. Emotions began to boil over, frustration tearing through your voice.

"We are a team."

A pause. He was supposed to understand why you didn't want him shot dead in front of you. Drops of rain break through your brows, the back of your hand furiously wiping them away.

"We are a team. A family. You make your rank abundantly clear whenever you feel like it. So choose! You cannot keep flipping on me. One minute you are my, my... I don't know, my friend, and the next— you're so fucking incapable of both!"

"I know."

He felt his heart rate increase as he watched your shoulders involuntarily relax a little at his abrupt admittance. You had him wrapped around your finger, he would do anything for you, that's why you wound him up so tightly with every reckless action, not that you knew. The care you showed him, the way you gently touched him sometimes, your soft eyes, your warm demeanour, he liked it. But it made him feel weak. He wanted to grab you, get you to listen to him, why the hell do you do this to him? Instead his desires smouldered unspoken.

"Then you know that I couldn't see you hurt."

The noise of the rain to competed with your gentle, defeated tone, but you know he heard. He took another step forward causing you own heart rate increased further, physically pounding against your painful ribs.

"I know."

Just like that the rain was happening in another room and he was whispering right into your ear. Or so it felt. Humid air sucked in to fill anxious lungs. Dark eyes watching you, memorising you. He was only a few inches away, but the true distance between you was immeasurable; it felt miles but simultaneously as if you were already touching.

"Then why do you... why are you always so—"

"I don't know, I..."

In the time it took for you to blink rain out your lashes he stepped forwards again, his body language softened. It was only a moments hesitation. Only a moment before his hand reached around your waist. Only a moment before he was pulling you in, pressing his masked forehead against yours, curving your back in a way that felt unnatural. But his grip was tight. There was nowhere to move. The only thing you could see was him, the ache of your ribs buried at the back of your mind.

"You do something to me."

His nose touched yours, lips parted in response even though the mask separated you. Delicate hands were pressed flat against his chest, feeling the fast, rhythmic beat. Doe eyes darting between his.

"You make me feel insane."

Battling to suppress a smirk, you tilted your head back, brushing the material which covered his mouth.

"What are you going to do about it then?"