Simon "Ghost" Riley oneshots

Ghost x Vampire hybrid-Part 2

I would rather spend one lifetime with you, than face all the ages of this world alone."

He laid you very gently on the fur rug beside the fireplace, the warmth from the flames contrasting sharply with the icy chill that had seeped into your bones. Your clothes, little more than rags, clung to your ethereal form, hinting at the delicate beauty beneath.

Ghost removed his sniper and gloves, setting them aside with deliberate care. His puffer jacket followed, discarded in his haste to help you. You were completely unconscious, your breaths shallow and labored.

Slowly, he began to remove your makeshift shoes, his touch as gentle as possible. The old shawl followed, then the layers of rags you had wrapped around yourself for warmth. With each layer removed, he searched for the source of your bleeding, his hands steady despite the urgency of the situation.

He continued to remove every piece of clothing you wore, his movements slow and gentle, as if handling the most delicate of treasures. When he finally removed your chemise, the sight before him made his jaw drop. Your body was a masterpiece, sculpted by the hands of a higher being, a work of art so perfect it seemed almost unreal.

Your milky white complexion was so pure that he feared even touching you might sully it. In all his military years, Ghost had seen many women, but none came close to your ethereal beauty. The firelight danced across your flawless skin, setting it ablaze with a soft, warm glow.

"Steaming Jesus," he murmured, unable to tear his eyes away from the vision before him. Your tiniest waist gave way to a mound of soft breasts, adorned with tiny pink nipples, and the perfect V shape of your most sensitive part. The sight was both breathtaking and humbling, a stark contrast to the harsh, brutal world he was so accustomed to.

He gently placed his rough hand below your belly button, his touch sending shivers down his spine. You were colder than the snow outside, your body delicate and petite. Your neck, like a swan's, arched gracefully, and your collarbones were razor-sharp.

For a moment, he looked away, a sense of reverence and respect overwhelming him. There wasn't even a spot of peach fuzz on your body, your skin as smooth and unblemished as porcelain.

Ghost held your freezing cold hand in his own, marveling at its beauty. Your hands were so delicate, with thin fingers and long pink nails, a stark contrast to his own calloused palms. He squeezed your hand gently, willing some warmth to seep into your chilled body.

His gaze drifted to the wound on the curve of your side, just above your hip bone. It was a stark reminder of the danger you had faced, the fragility of life in this unforgiving landscape.

The sight of it made his heart clench. The bullet had torn through your lower abdomen, leaving a gaping, bloody hole. Ghost's fingers traced the edges of your wound. Gathering his composure, Ghost refocused on the task at hand. He knew he had to treat your wound and keep you warm to ensure your survival.

He worked quickly, cleaning the wound with the supplies from his medical kit, applying pressure to stem the bleeding.

His mind raced with thoughts of how fragile you seemed, how someone so delicate could survive in such a harsh environment. The firelight danced across your platinum hair, your pale skin almost luminescent in the glow.

Ghost took out the stitching thread and needle, his hands steady despite the gravity of the situation. With you already unconscious, there was no need to numb the area. Gently, he cleaned your wound with alcohol, half-expecting a reaction from you, but you remained still and unresponsive. He knew you were in a deep sleep, your body exhausted from the ordeal.