chapter 5

1.2K 24 0
                                    

a/n: *insert any ghost fanart here

----------

Stiff, starched fabric rubs against your tender skin, the military garb barely covering the healing wounds on your body. After asking four people where you could find Lieutenant Simon Riley, you finally obtained an answer.

So much for protecting your own.

They'd let a fox into the hen house and given away exactly what you needed.

While a fresh cut adorned your face, no one asked where it had come from, minding their own business. It doesn't keep them from staring as you make your way across the base, heading in the direction you'd been pointed in. You suppose it's normal to be roughed up on base while sparring with others, but if anyone asked — and they wouldn't because no one cared about women like that — you'd already formulated a story.

The infiltration makes you giddy, wearing the enemy's colors, and walking among them unknown. It feels illegal, and it feels good. Especially after all you've endured.

Loitering outside Ghost's barracks — locked doors barring your entrance — you wait. Odds are someone will eventually enter or exit, on their way somewhere, and you'll catch the door. No one should pay you any attention. And if they do, you'll let a smile soften your features, forever the damsel, forever indebted to such nice, young men.

Gag.

Being surrounded by men who're afflicted with the white knight syndrome has its perks, especially when they eat out of your hand.

So naive, so stupid.

They yearn to save every young woman they can lay their hands on, longing to fix her only to dump her later. Too bad you don't fall victim to such manipulations.

Just ask Ghost.

That makes you smile, skin tight near your wound, but for tonight, that mentality works in your favor.

Movement in your peripheral vision draws you from your thoughts. Stepping from the darkness you lurk in, you watch as a man walks up to the entry doors, key card ready.

Will you be the one to let me in? you internally taunt.

Silent as a shadow, you appear behind him, clearing your throat. You stifle a smile as he jumps.

"What the fu–" Turning to face you, his face softens when he sees your statue despite the facial bruising. "Where did you come from?" Him curbing his language tells you all you need to know already. Military fatigues adorn his lean body, and his light tawny hair is cropped close to his scalp. A clean face assesses you, his eyes cerulean.

He's probably never been told no with those eyes.

His defenses slip infinitesimally, but you hook your claws in.

"The dining hall," you start pointing vaguely over your shoulder, "but I forgot my card." Nodding to his, you don your most sincere face.

"Oh... um, I can let you in, I guess." Uncertainty drips from every word, but his arm holds the door open, beckoning you in.

Men just can't help it.

"Thanks dear," you say, brushing against him intentionally as you pass, "I owe you one." With that, you wink, and disappear around the corner before he has time to think about what he's done.

The snitch he's let inside so easily.

You'll have to goad Ghost with this knowledge... once you find him in this disgustingly drab building. The color beige might kill you before you reach him. Linoleum stretches out in front of you as you make your way down the halls, passing doors labeled with room numbers in the hundreds.

gore wh*re [ghost x reader]Where stories live. Discover now