Simon "Ghost" Riley oneshots

Soul to my soul

"Blurred past evaporating teardrops
Unending dreams carving
An arc of smile,
And a fleeting life,
Negotiating between the two,"

Black tears mixed with kohl streamed down your innocent angelic face. Cherry plump lips quivering and wounded. The white silk hijab is dishelved. Your gown muddy. Your lip slightly cut from a side and bruised. His finger impressions on your delicate neck. You looked like a broken porcelein doll, a fallen angel running away from the Ghost you once loved because you were accused of being a traitor. Ghost was after you, seething with anger as you fled, running away from him to save your life. He forgot he loved you, forgot all the promises because in that moment he only saw you as a traitor.

"Simon!" Please, let me explain.

"Explain? Explain what? How did you betray me? How did you stab me in the back? You're not even worth the breath it takes to explain. You're nothing but a lying, manipulative, TRAITOR!"

He dragged you all the way back to his apartment.

The clock ticked softly, Tik, Tik, Tik, as you lay motionless on the cold floor of his apartment. Your head covering lay discarded, crumpled beside you, the reverence it once held now lost in the chaos. Lips bruised, your swollen eyes threatened to spill the tears you had been holding back, but your face remained frozen, a portrait of fear and disbelief.

Your long raven hair, freed from its confines, fanned out around your head like a dark, ethereal halo, contrasting sharply with the bloodstain that bloomed on your soft pink abaya, stark and unforgiving. It spread just beneath your ribs, right at the c.enter of your being. Pain pulsed between your legs, a searing throb that refused to be ignored as your thighs squeezed together, your body curling in on itself.

Only hours earlier, you had been happy-so happy. You were in his apartment, celebrating your birthday. He had planned it, a small celebration meant just for you.

He sat on the couch, staring blankly at the clock, his hands clenched into fists. The celebratory atmosphere from earlier had dissipated, replaced by an eerie silence. Every so often, he'd glance at the door, expecting to see you walk back in, but you never did.

"Fuck..."

You lay on the cold floor of the living room, staring blankly at the spot of blood that now marked the room-marked you. It was a cruel reminder of what had happened, the pain that had been inflicted. Your whole body ached, covered in bruises, every inch of your skin painted with the ghostly remnants of his touch, hickeys that once might have felt intimate but now felt like scars.

But the pain wasn't just physical. It was deeper, a searing ache that burrowed into your chest and twisted in your gut. It was emotional, gnawing away at the parts of you that still held hope, that still believed this wasn't real, that this wasn't him. Tears welled in your eyes, but you held them back, refusing to let the pain spill over, as if crying would only make it more real.

And so you lay there, consumed by the silent war inside you, your body broken and your spirit trembling.

His gaze finally fell on you, his face contorting with a mix of emotions - anger, guilt, regret. He approached you cautiously, his movements jerky. "Look at me..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Please, look at me..."

He was the man you had fallen for, the man you admired, "Lieutenant Simon Riley. To the world, he was a force to be feared, a looming figure in the shadows. To his enemies, he was the grim reaper himself, his name whispered in terror. But to you, he was more than that. He was everything. He was the one who held you close on stormy nights, the one who protected you from the darkness that surrounded him. You had seen the parts of him no one else dared to, the parts he had kept hidden beneath that stoic mask.