Ghost One Shots | FemReader

TEASER | TRIANGLE (FEM!OCxGHOSTxSOAP)

I slicked my hair back into the usual pleated ponytail I'd been adorning for training, staring at my half dressed body in the mirror. Tone, tan, tall and superior. Today was the day I wrote my name down in ink onto the piece of paper that was my contractual obligation to serve for the next three years. Special Forces. I'd made it, qualifying as a suitable candidate for their training programme.

Months of enduring some of the most gruelling exercises; freezing cold sea water pouring up my nose, ripped hands from endless rope burn, blisters which would bleed through my socks and adhere them to my feet. I'd stand in the shower and wash endless grime and sweat and filth off of my body and make myself one with the job. There would be no end to me and no beginning of it. All the candidates, working as a unified unit. I scoffed to myself as I twisted the elastic around the ends of my hair. That would all be an act, I was here to win. I was here to be the best. I would run the fastest, fight the hardest, I'd secure my spot. This was my dream job. The only unified unit was me, myself and I.

I grabbed my fatigues, pulling the shirt with precision over my head so as to not disturb the perfectly smooth style I'd secured it into. I had to look the part, play the part. I had to be perfect. I stepped into the trousers, jumping them over my quads, buttoning them at the waist. The belt pulled through with ease, clicking together at the naval. I tucked the shirt in, smoothing it out over my abs. I stared at my reflection.

I was perfect.

I am perfect.

Door open, my boots thudding down the corridor of the barracks. There were a few other doors already open, those who were up early like myself, wanting to make a good impression. I hadn't even met anyone else yet. I felt my ponytail sway with each step, back straight, head held high, I marched myself straight to the main building. Heavy rain battered the windows, a violent wind shuddering the panes of glass with each powerful gust. What a day. Nothing would bowl over better than being able to exercise my body until my limbs went completely numb from the cold. I could feel a little rush of adrenaline spike my heart rate as I thought of the droplets battering my skin, the air biting my face. The idea of how good the shower afterwards would feel.

It wasn't long until I'd crossed the base and made it to the indoor hall, warm air spilling out to greet me as I pushed one of the doors open. Instinctively, the other early candidates stood to attention, only to relax when they realised I wasn't a superior. And the most interesting thing—I was a woman. Everyone waiting was swinging with a third leg. That fact made a smug little grin grow across my face as I wandered over to join them, all of whom had fallen into silence, muttering amongst themselves and shifting themselves further away from me, yet keeping their body language increasingly more open. When I settled still, arms folded confidently across my chest I could hear some of the whispers.

"Who do you think she fucked to get in here, then?"

"That's Bronn, she was in my qualifier, outranked us all on the beep test—"

"And the 5km... beginner's luck I'd say."

"There's no fuckin' way."

"Keen eye in target practise too..."

London, Liverpool and Wales. What an interesting and completely non-misogynistic group of gentleman. I rolled my eyes wishing to roundhouse boot the one who insinuated I had to have sucked some cock to even have a chance of being here, right in the fucking ball sack, prick. I, instead, resorted to side eyeing him up and down. He had the gall to wink. Oh, this was going to be fun.

The door swung again, both this time, and in came two more dick swinging motherfuckers. I twisted my neck to relieve some of the anger which was slowly building up. One was tall, leaning a touch as he avoided the wooden frame, blonde hair flopping into his face a little, a gentle swagger as he walked. The other was tall, not as much as his friend, but broad and brunette. They were talking quietly to one another as they sauntered over to stand with the disjointed group next to me. The blonde one stuffed his hands deep into his pockets as he passed, his eyes flitting over my body. Dark, menacing. I clenched my jaw, meeting his stare which was rewarded by a side smirk from him.

The guys who had been spineless earlier clearly found their confidence when these two men walked in.

"Simon! How are you, man? I heard you absolutely fuckin' smashed your qualifiers."

It wasn't the blonde man, Simon, who answered. Instead it was his friend, a laugh escaping his lips first followed swiftly by a thick Scottish accent, probably Glaswegian.

"Aye, Riley disnae play games boys, yous all know that!"

"Enough, Johnny."

English, London but not quite, something else was in the mix but I couldn't pinpoint it. A strong hand playfully smacked Simon on the arm. Simon returned to gesture and for some reason, I found myself staring at the exchange. It was... educating. Silent and smouldering with his exuberant and extroverted other half. Ying and yang.

Simons head turned slightly over his shoulder, as if he could feel my eyes burning holes through his skin. The voices fell quiet again upon noticing his movement. I wasn't backing down. If this was going to be my competition, I had to suss every little detail out.

"That's our competition lads," One of the spineless cunts said, tipping his head back as a means of pointing to me. "What's your name again?" Simon turned his head over his shoulder this time, hands once more deep inside his pockets. I stared only at him as I answered.

"Bronn. Sergeant Natalie Bronn."

That seemed to be enough as I saw the side smirk grow on his lips once more. And that's when I noticed sky blue eyes staring at me too as a thick hand ran through brunette hair. Simon and Johnny.

I am perfect. I am here to win.

So, under his lazy chocolate gaze, I extended a hand to his friend first.

"Nice to meet you."