I'm just better. || Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader

Pinned eyes (4)

I stared at him and his murmured plead.

"Fine, whatever." I mutter, opening the door and turning away, letting his tall physique step into the room. He glanced around curiously before sitting on a chair he dragged on over, that I had in the corner. I pushed some files away and under the bed before turning to him.

"What do you want?" I ask, perking a brow.

"To know who you are." 

"No. Absolutely not. Y'all don't need to know more than what your gonna see and experience-"

"What's your favorite color?" He interrupted. I paused.

"...Blue." I mutter out, confused. "Look, I'm not here to play games, I have a brawl to get too-"

"Clear or stormy weather?" He asked. I glared at him. The whole interrupting-my-sentence thing was agitating me.

"None of your business. I'm done. Get the fuck out, Konig." I growled out, going to the door and opening it for him. "Out!"

He pouted a bit, his shoulders sinking.

"Out." 

Eventually, he heaved himself up and out of the room. As he turned to say something, I slammed the door on him, irritated. I looked back around the room, running a hand through my hair, my nails grazing my scalp slightly.

My lips turned pouty as I flopped back onto my bed. I had been doing that a lot. Flopping around. When I picked my head up again to glance at my phone I remembered I had that brawl with Ghost.

It was, what, 9:45? Time had really flown. I didn't know when to really show up or when he expected to have our little fight. Did he think we were gonna do it later tonight? Earlier in the morning? Maybe I had already missed when he showed up and he was sitting in there right now.

I sat on the thought for a moment before shrugging and shoving my face back in the pillow. Whatever.

I do admit, as a military weapon, I was pretty lazy at times. Like right now. My excuse most of the time way; I need rest for the mission. Mindset sharp and body ready. That wasn't all lies though you know? But still, I'm pretty lazy.

Not my fault I don't have a mini fridge full of ice cream in her right now. I think that would be pretty big motivation to stay awake.

What was with that Konig guy anyways? You'd think he'd be tougher, more bark-y. He kinda has an annoying voice. Not that I'm one to judge. Who cares. Such is such.

2 hour naps just hit different. I felt drowsy and like I had bee asleep for weeks. The first initial seconds of waking up I thought I was either dead or had missed something. But nope. Just my thought wandering back to brawl time with Ghost.

His bulky structure did seem almost intimidating, but that wasn't what threw me off. What threw me off is that he gave me the same vibes I give me. The same attitude and cold demeanor to many things. Still into what I was worried about. Well, not worried in a bad way but just worried in a I'm-thinking-to-deep-into-this way.

The way he just stared at me. It wasn't hateful or angry obviously, though his tone gave off that sorta defense at first. But it was rather very focused and weighing.

I rolled over to look back up at the same ceiling I had kept looking up at, expecting something new like a magical portal to appear and snatch me up and out of this place. That's when I got a notification on my phone.

I checked the bar and saw my people had messaged me via email.

How is it?

Read the single message.

Just fine. everyone here fits the files I got. 

I replied, half-heartedly. All honestly, I was very vague with them when I was on separate missions.

That's good. We'll check in tomorrow.

I hate that they try to seem like they care. They don't. They never have and never will. That's just them. 

With a steady sigh, I pushed myself up from the bed and shifted comfortably in my clothing, tugging my boots back on over my socks. Glancing to the table, I noticed the hashbrown pancakes Konig had left and debated on whether or not to trust and eat them or let them stay. I wasn't exactly hungry and didn't trust him nor his attitude, so they can stay for now.

As I exited my room, walking the opposite way down the hall and taking a few turns to the room I had ordered Ghost and I to meet up at, I cracked the door, peeking in to see it be a short hall with a turn. The ground was matted with a comfortable foam and the common color I had noticed so far was black. Black walls, black ceiling, black ground, black equipment. There were even black lockers lining the walls and a few dark oak benches. An okay-ish theme. 

As I silently lurked down the hall, I looked around the corner to see Ghost beating a punching bag to a pulp. He was dressed in sweatpants, and tank top, and his general balaclava, but this one didn't cover his face entirely, rather just left a peephole for his eyes. 

From the movements that I could see, I noticed some white ink on the mask, assuming it was the same skull print marking like her other signature items. Pursing my lips a bit, I watched the muscles under his flesh glide swiftly when he struck the bag, the scars that adorned his skin shifting to every movement as needed. He had a shiny layer of sweat across his body too, trying to leak through the tank top. 

My eyes quickly caught on the the clinking of chains and tags around his neck. His dog tags. Interesting. 

Quietly, stepping out from the mini hall, I leaned on the wall, my arms crossed as I waited for him to finish his little warm up. After a moment or so, his peripherals caught onto my figure and he seemed almost surprised, though quickly washing it over with the usual monotone, cold attitude he held.

"Having fun?" I ask, perking a brow. His eyes pinned mine and for a moment, I almost hesitated, before shaking it off.

With a grunt, he picked up a towel that was thrown to the ground from earlier use I assumed, and he wiped off some sweat from his arms, chest and where ever else he felt the need to.

"How long you been in here?" I ask.

"An hour." He replied. I nodded.

"You're not gonna be to tired to fight me?"

"Not at all." 

"Good." I hummed, pushing off the wall and stepping forward.

Welpers, this was going to be entertaining.

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