A Collection of Short Stories | Simon Riley "Ghost" x Reader

kingdom of cards: chapter 1

As the cool night air bites at your exposed skin, you huddle in the shadows of a derelict building, the crumbling facade of what was once a home now serving as your pre-mission rally point.

Tonight, you're not just a soldier; you're an infiltrator, a ghost in the darkness poised to unravel the threads of a plot that could shift the tides of an unsteady war.

Your eyes flit to Ghost, his skull balaclava materializing from the gloom like a specter.

He's been your mentor, your shadow in every skirmish, and an enigma whose true feelings are as concealed as his face.

There's an unspoken bond, a mutual respect forged in the fires of countless battles, but tonight, the line between professional restraint and the concern in his furrowed gaze is blurring.

"Y/N," he starts, his voice a low rasp, a hard edge of disapproval lacing his words. "This isn't the kind of op you waltz into without—"

"I know what I signed up for," you interject, your tone firm, unwilling to show any hesitation that could be mistaken for fear.

You can't afford to — not with what this mission could mean.

You can't help but feel the weight of his gaze, even unseen behind the fabric of his mask.

"I'm aware," you reply, the confidence in your voice belying the adrenaline already coursing through your veins. "You've seen me handle worse."

"It's not your skills I'm worried about. It's this..." He gestures to the garment bag hanging off the side of an old chair — inside, the dress you're about to don.

You approach the garment bag and run your fingers over the luxurious fabric of the gown inside before grabbing it and walking around a the corner, enough for privacy and still being able to converse with Ghost.

The dress is an emerald green, a color you chose for its elegance and the way it sets off the determination in your eyes.

The dress itself is a masterclass in tactical attire masquerading as high fashion — the slit up the side isn't just daring, it's also functional, allowing for a greater range of movement should you need it.

The neckline plunges in a bold statement, softened by the delicate lace that adds a touch of sophistication, promising intrigue and drawing in those who dare to get too close.

Ghost's eyes follow you as you step around the corner, and he can't help but feel a peculiar mix of emotions churning within him, his thoughts veering into dangerous territory.

His heart races in a way it never does in the midst of a mission.

Unseen behind the balaclava, Ghost's gaze intensifies, imagining how the dress will cling to your form, highlighting your curves and contours in all the right places.

His mind races with thoughts he shouldn't be entertaining at this moment, given the gravity of the mission.

But it's not just the dress that unnerves him.

It's the realization that you're about to step into a world where danger isn't the only thing you'll face.

There will be men, high-ranking officials and their guards, who will cast lingering looks upon you, their thoughts far from the battlefield, their intentions clouded by desire.

Ghost's jaw tightens as he pictures those men, their lustful gazes, the inappropriate comments they might make, their hands finding places...

It made him see red simply thinking about it.
"Y/N," Ghost's voice is more than a whisper but less than his usual command, the gravelly tone betraying his reluctance.