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magnoliabutters · 11 months

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• PARA LOS VAQUEROS •

pairing: simon "ghost" riley x "aero" (they/them) reader

summary: feelings and emotions don't come naturally to ghost, and yet...

warnings: 18+, mdni, adult language, violence; cod:mw2 potential spoilers, enemies to lovers trope, ptsd, death, & anxiety mentioned, comforting fluff, potential graphic canon violence & gore on mission, pet names, anger outburst, etc.

word count: ~7.6k

reblogs to support me & ghost + aero ♥️

• part 3 • ghost stories series • collection of pride pairings •

note: welcome back to part three! sorry for the delay! my contribution to pride, please join me for more gay pairings during pride month! would def encourage reading the other parts before this one!

we have a couple time jump below. for the dates, i put them in military format but added punctuation (cause without it just looks like numbers and i was getting confused) ♥️ translations/definitions of bolder words are found at the end of their section

2023.10.14, 0735

A large, hankering sound roars in your ears. Your eyes open. You feel relief in hearing the obnoxious alarm. You rise from the bed, rubbing your eyes. An ache rocks your body, leading you to roll out your shoulder. Sluggishly, you pull the sheet over your bed. A smile across your face as you remember the events of last night.

Quickly and painfully, you dress yourself for the day. Your mind screaming “0800 briefing” as you make your way down the hall and into the meeting room. As you walk in, you already note that familiar ghostly mask sitting straight as a nail in front of you. Of course arrive early to a debriefing.

“Lieutenant,” you greet with a nod. A soft grumble of a laugh begins in his chest as he nods towards you. You sit beside him. Your hands are placed together, fingers interlocked, you rest them on the cool table. You struggle to keep your mind off of yesterday’s adventure in the shower room. The TV is black, but on and ready for the briefing to start.

Soap walks in with Alejandro and Rudy shortly behind. Gaz enters the room with Price. He shoots you smile and nod as he does. You smirk, unaware of Ghost’s hand balling into a fist.

“Price,” Laswell calls out. “What have you learned so far?” Your back immediately straightens at the voice of the Station Chief. Your eyes on her as a deadpanned, focused face emerges. “AQ has a stealth bomb. Targeting Los Vaqueros and Las Almas Cartel,” he answers. “They’re going to Mexico,” she says to herself, processing the information. “Do we know when?”

With finality, Price answers, “Negative.” Ghost adds on to his sentence, leaning back against his chair. “We managed to gather intel that AQ holds the bomber in an abandon warehouse in Vorkuta, Russia. General Ibrahim Osman is the man in charge.”

Laswell huffs as she types the information into her laptop. “How did you manage to retrieve the intel? Casualties? Any civilians?” she asks. Her brows pressing together, forming a familiar line between them that emerges any time she’s thinking.

You turn to Ghost, curious for the answer. Laswell immediately notices your shift in position. “Two on location, two overwatch. Infiltrated French AQ base. 4 hostiles down, 0 civilian casualties,” Ghost responds as though it was a script.

“And where was Aero?” she asks. Your head and widening eyes pops her way. How were you going to explain this? To tell her that you didn’t make it because Ghost sabotaged you? Would she ask for details? Would you have to share that he sabotaged you when he carefully slid out your bed while you were still sleeping? Hesitation holds you. An unfamiliar feeling. You hated it.

“The Lieutenant was interviewing Sidorov,” Ghost answers for you. The lie did not impact his intonation. His voice remains cool and calm. You follow his lead without missing a beat. Although, the boys snicker behind you. Price remains confused but uninterested. “Yes, I learned that AQ has a target on Sergeant MacTavish,” you instinctually add. “He will be placed on overwatch until AQ is resolved.”

Laswell leads with another humph as she looks down at the classified documents before her. After a few minutes of silence, she speaks. “Sergeant, you alright with that?” A bustling laugh emerges behind you. God, he truly does not know when to be serious. “Let’s get these fuckers,” Soap answers with his thick Scottish accent.

Luckily, that grants him a smile from the Station Chief. “Alright,” she says with a low chuckle. “You are a-go to clear out the AQ base. HVT, General Osman. Stealth bomber must be retrieved, undamaged. Cut Sidorov loose. Leave the AQ contact, another squad will come for him. Plane at 1500.” She closes her folders and reaches to end the call. “Good luck team.” The TV returns to black.

“Do we have blueprints for this abandoned warehouse?” you ask, immediately getting to work. “Yes, teniente,” Rudy answers. He grabs the TV remote, pressing a few buttons to bring up the blueprints on the screen. A grid of the entire Russian street appears. He quickly zooms in on the targeted and surrounding buildings.

Gaz studies them with a hand to his chin. “North west entrance looks unsecured,” he shares. “South bay has windows. We can create a distraction there,” Alejandro adds. “Overwatch can rest on the south east corner,” Soap suggests as he points to the screen. The boys peer down to refer to the approval of their lieutenants.

“Two at South windows, two at north,” Ghost starts, but you interrupt him without difficulty. His balled fist makes a second appearance. “East side, sewers. We can use that to venture our way inside with less risk,” you share. “We take it by stealth. Cut the lights. Knives and suppression only. No damage to the bomber.”

Ghost rolls his eyes and adds more distance between you. You can’t help to scoff at his boyish response. “Of course,” he mumbles sarcastically. “And Soap will run overwatch. Thermal scope and silencer,” you add. Ghost turns to Price, completely ignoring your words. “What’s it gonna be Captain?” he asks with disdain in his voice.

Price presses his fingers to his brow bone. The constant childish arguing causing his headache. With eyes closed, he grumbles, “HQ needs the bomber untouched. Go with Aero’s plan.“ He stands, waving at Ghost to quit his bitching, as he makes his way out the door. “See you at 1500.” You note, he must have another solo mission from Laswell.

With a look of satisfaction, you pat your hands to the table and stand from your seat. “We’re doing this quick and quiet once those grenades go off,” you address the boys behind you. “Night vision goggles, knives, flash grenades.” You turn to Alejandro with a nod. “Vargas, we are good for the diversion at the south windows. Parra, cut the lights on the west side. Regroup at north west entrance.”

Los Vanqueros nod before making their way to the armory in preparation for the mission. You turn to Soap, who shoots you his classic smile. Ghost still rests reluctantly in his chair, arms crossed resting upon his chest. “Thermal scope and a silencer, L.T.,” Soap says without hesitation. “Yes, you find and take out Osman’s security, and ground team will take the General,” you instruct. “Gaz run as a spotter. Note wind and distance.” Gaz laughs as he pats your shoulder before leaving the room. “Of course, Aero.” While making their way to the door, Soap runs his hands together in excitement.

You lean back against the table, devilishly close to Ghost. “Didn’t think you would be so sour about losing,” you comment without looking his way. Ghost abruptly stands. The movement pushing his chair back and into a crash against the wall. He stares into you with those brown eyes. Today’s mask looks more rugged, more worn out.

You could see the tensing of his muscles. How his jaw clenched beneath the fabric. You find it mighty interesting that he is always a pillar of stone around others. With you? He shows all his cards. “You’re going to get us all killed,” he says without mercy. Your chin drops as you feel shock to his words. “Fuck you,” you mutter. Your mind reeling with red hot rage. Rarely do you lose grip on your temper. “I would never put my team in harms way. Being a hot-headed dumb ass, guns blazing, would most definitely result in a KIA, you thick skulled idiot.”

You lean closer into him, watching as his fists clench harder than you’ve seen before. “I lead this mission,” you say sharply. “Fall in line, soldier.” He grunts in response. A growl falling from his lips as he steps towards you. You look up to the 6’4” man without worry. His face leans closer and closer to yours. As though a staring contest would somehow scare you out of being squad leader.

As a minute passes, Ghost pulls away with another grunt. He storms out of the room. His boots hitting the ground harshly. “Maybe you’ll get the next one, L.T.,” you call out with a snicker. His fist blasts through the wall.

The sound makes you immediately stand up and on guard. He pulls his hand out slowly. Dry wall crumbles down around his arm. You watch in silence as he continues out the door and to the armory. Blood dripping onto the tiled floor as he walks away.

You fall back into your chair, unfazed by his foolish response. Your finger falls to your chin as you study the blueprints. You search for any potential blind spots. Pulling out a notebook as you scribble your ideas down in silence. But you struggle to maintain your attention. The memory of last night floods your brain as you struggle with the idea of conflict. It’s never a good idea to go into a mission angry. However, sometimes it might just be necessary.

• aq: al-qatala “the killers”

• hvt: high value target

• teniente: lieutenant

2023.10.13, 2300

Are you supposed to look? I mean, he has been hiding his face behind a mask since you met him. Is it disrespectful to look? But, fuck, are you so curious. You catch glimpses of fiery red hair at the base of his neck. His bare chest turns a reddish pink underneath the hot water.

But he doesn’t look back. He doesn’t look to see if you are, indeed, joining him for a shower. You should take a shower. You’re naked and your legs are covered with his cum. And yet, you’re stuck in place.

Are you overthinking the mask? Maybe you’re just looking for an out. I mean, you fucked - that’s all you wanted. You don’t have to do any of the cute cuddley shit after. But maybe a small part of you does?

“You coming?” Ghost asks in his low toned voice. He still looks towards the shower head. He may not peer back at you, but he surely craves your presence. With a deep breath, you walk up to him. Your hand placed gently against the small of his back. His skin is soft under the warm water.

You catch a glimpse of his smile, but you divert your eyes. You keep your head down, looking at both your naked bodies in close proximity of each other. It excites you. For some reason that evokes a laugh within him. He brings a bar of soap within your eye line. “May I?”

Abruptly, your heart races tenfold. You look at the bar of soap, at his gentle hands as they reach toward you. All you could muster was a small nod. He gently places the bar against your shoulder. He is oh so careful not to hurt you after the beating you took from your contract. He gently brushes all your bruises and abrasions. His touch feels so good, something you find yourself needing any time he pulls away.

Feeling this new level of warmth within your chest, you gently place your hand upon his cheek. Your eyes closed as you lean up and place your lips on his. Those plump, supple lips you have grown to appreciate. He kisses you back, a simple peck. A complete contradiction to the rough and tough you both indulge in earlier. Gentle is not in your vocabulary, at least not until now.

Ghost pulls away with a lick to his lips. He hums as though your taste is delicious. Your eyes remain closed, somehow protecting his privacy. He bends down and you feel the soap on the top of you thigh. “So dirty,” he whispers with a chuckle as he views his art work. You wiggle your hips, pretending to go for a knee strike. All he does is laugh. A sweet, melodic sound that you now find yourself enjoying.

“Do you prefer Ghost of Simon?” you ask, breaking the romance in the air. You find it’s best to stop it in its tracks, before - before something happens. He draws the soap up to the crook your neck, giving you a massage that makes your mouth water. “Ghost,” he answers matter-of-factly. You fear you might’ve killed the mood. “Simon for serious conversations.” Your smile perks up as you let out a breath of relief.

“What about you?” Ghost inquires. He lightly guides you to spin around so he may get your back. “Aero,” you answer. “My ‘real’ name never felt right. Aero, on the other hand, suits me perfectly.” You can feel his breath against your shoulder. The soap now rubbing against your hip bones.

“How’d you get the call sign?” he asks. His other hand twisting a lock of your hair and placing it forward. “Aero, air. People would say I’m a natural at flying anything in the air,” you answer as you become more and more comfortable within the interaction. “F-14’s, helicopters, commercial airlines. It’s a weird flex of mine.”

Ghost stifles a laugh as he floats the bar of soap over you butt’s cheeks and down the back of your legs. “I’d like to see that,” he says in a sarcastic tone. You spin around, fast enough where his hands raise. Your eyes fall upon his. The same very eyes that you see peering at you through the mask. You try your best not to attend to any other features.

“Okay, how’d you get yours, ghostie boy?” you ask with a bit of offense taken. Immediately, his face shifts. The smile nonexistent. His dark eyes darting away from your body. Your hand reaches for his arm before you could stop it. Concern pushes your brows together. “Forget I asked,” you offer with sincerity. A hand rests upon his chest. “I don’t need to know.”

The atmosphere feels off between you. He tightly grips against the soap. It’s a miracle that it hasn’t slid from his hands. Finally, you look to his face. You note the freckles on his cheeks. How they travel all the way to his ears. How his firey hair stubbles rest sexily against his chin. Not a single scar to his perfect face. No physical reason to hide.

But, most importantly, you note his expression. You recognize it. You’ve seen the same expression in the faces of your comrades, squad mates, in yourself. You come to understand that your question accidentally triggered him, triggered what you would guess to be PTSD. “Ghost,” you repeat. Your hand now caressing his cheek again. “Come back to me.”

Ghost doesn’t move. He is stuck in some perpetual shit show of trauma and sorrow. You recall what has worked for you in the past. Without delay, you crash your arms around his, pulling him into a deep pressured hug. At first, he attempts to shrug you off but he slowly accepts his fate in your arms. His arms crashing around you, giving you the same squeeze. You lay your head upon his chest as the hot water crashes upon you both.

What felt like hours passed by. You feel as though you might fall asleep in this shower room, in his arms. “Aero,” he speaks softly. Your body perks up as you attempt to wake. “You can let go of me now.” Quickly, you pulls your hands to your side. Your eyes peer back into his as you await for further instruction.

“You need to get some rest,” Ghost says genuinely. You nod, struggling to keep you heavy eyelids open. “Can you get yourself back to your room?” he asks. You nod again, grumbling as you rub your eyes. He beams as he walks over the linen closet. He grabs two towels, chucking one over to you.

“I want to be the only one to see that incredible body,” he demands. You scoff before realizing his serious intent. “Oh,” you let out. “I can promise you that no one else will see my body tonight. Just you, baby.” That builds his grin as he watches you make your way to the front of the restroom. “See you tomorrow at the briefing,” he says with a devilish smile. You wave your hand and make a mental note to triple check your alarms before falling asleep that night.

2023.10.14, 1930

You awake at the sounds of a rattling plane. Usually it’s hum puts you right to sleep. The crown of your head was pressed against the metaled hum during your slumber. Taking in a deep breath through your nostrils, you open your eyes to see the familiar red lights. You’ve found comfort in these lights. How you have come to affiliate them with rest and safety, even if you weren’t necessarily traveling in a secure airspace.

“Trouble sleeping?” Gaz asks in a whisper as he bumps your right shoulder. You turn with a smile. His eyes twinkling in the red. He was always so handsome, such eye candy. It is never a bad time to wake up to Gaz beside you. “I’m good,” you mumble. “The turbulence must’ve woken me up.”

With a squinting of your eyes, you recognize his freshly alert face. He looks as though he got great sleep and some how managed to be awake for at least the past two hours. “God Garrick, how are you awake right now?” He laughs, shaking his head slightly. “Not everyone can sleep as soundly as you on a plane, Aero,” he taunts, heavily emphasizing your call sign. “Yeah, well, not everyone is as cool as me.” You close your eyes and lean back against the cool hull, hoping to get another hour.

“Would you quit yapping, some of us are trying to sleep?” That undeniable, deep British voice appears again. You find your pulse increasing any time you hear it. Immediately, your eyes open as you look for him in the cargo bay. You find him, hiding in a corner yet again. He uses the lack of light as a blanket of darkness. “Piss off,” Gaz calls out. He rolls his eyes as he adds in a whisper, “I’m tired of that fucking prick.”

By the time you turned back to Ghost, he was already half way towards you. His walk rough, stomping with each step. His arms tense with fists at their ends. “Want to try that again, Sergeant?” he asks with a deeply barreled voice. You have only seen this level of anger when it’s directed at you. Now, your eyes ping pong between your previous and current lover. A certain level of adrenaline and excitement resides in your chest.

Gaz immediately stands, entering Ghost’s space without fear. Your eyes widen, a surprising act for the Sergeant. “Do you need to get your ears checked, L.T.?” he spits out. He holds a steady proximity but does not inch forward until his opponent breaks first. “I said, ‘Piss off.’ I’m tired of your shit.”

You stand, placing a soft hand upon both their shoulders. “Hey, we’re all just pumped for the mission. Walk away,” you suggest to the two. But you might as well have not even spoke. No one is listening.

Ghost retorts with an enthused laugh, shrugging your hand off. “One too many concussion grenades scramble your brain?” he asks with a cool collected tone. “Do you know how easy it would be to have you benched?” Gaz smiles, tucking his chin in. “I’d like to see how you’d explain away that one to Price,” he answers. Ghost nods slowly. You catch small movements at his mouth. It makes you imagine a smile forming.

“Insubordination? That’s not like you, Gaz,” Ghost says with a bit of inquiry. From what you have read of his classified files, only having access due to your rank and for personnel reasons, Gaz has zero marks on his record. He explained this once to you after teasing him in those white hotel sheets. He does not care about reputation, not in the slightest. What he cares about is honor and respecting that honor.

Ghost is an honorary soldier. He is one of the most decorated and is highly preferred in covert missions under Laswell’s reign. He is also Gaz’s superior officer and, therefore, has earned his respect. Even though he was acting like an absolute dickhead and deserved a rough talking to, he respects the man. In that instant, he was no longer Gaz - he was Kyle.

You watch him as he pieces the puzzle together and comes to the same conclusion. Gaz straightens his chest, diverting his eyes from his superior. “My apologies, Lieutenant. Won’t happen again.” Ghost nods, dismissing the Sergeant. Gaz sits down beside you with guilted eyes that are glued to the floor.

This entire interaction, although having an exciting start, has grown stale quickly. You look up to Ghost with annoyed eyes. You know he has all the information you have on each member of this team. He knew exactly how to disarm the man and put him in his place without violence. Some might find that impressive, you find it irritating.

Unexpectedly, Ghost leans down and into your space. His face resides beside yours as he whispers into your ear. Your eyes widen, knowing that no one has seen you two in such proximity before. Again, you see those gears turning in Gaz’s mind as he figures it out. A soft “oh” falls from his lips as he turns to look the other way. He finally understands Ghost’s hostility during this particular mission.

“No one will stand up for you against me,” Ghost whispers softly. “You deserve a real man.” As he pulls away, your lip raises on one side. Red hot anger filling your chest. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve, Riley,” you say with gritted teeth. He scoffs out a laugh before walking back to his corner.

You suck your tongue against your teeth as you let out a harsh breath from your nostrils. You would not be surprised if smoke fumes from your ears. Grinding your teeth, you cross your arms upon your chest. You close your eyes and land your head harshly against the hull. A shuffling of movement begins beside you. Before he’s able to say anything, you calmly state, “Shut up, Kyle.” The next thing you hear is a quiet chuckle.

2023.10.14, 2204

The remainder of the flight was met with endless silence. With all that anger within you, there was no way you could get yourself back to sleep. Another sleepless night. It’s slowly becoming more and more your version of normal. Luckily, the remainder of the squad slept as far as you knew.

You rock side to side as your squad sits in the back of a white covered van. Your transport taking you through snowy and rocky terrain to achieve the best vantage to the AQ base. You sit beside Soap and Gaz. Ghost, Alejandro, and Rudy sit across from you.

Ghost strategically places himself right in front of you. You keep your eyes away to avoid any long held stares. Instead, you peer out the back window and watch the tire tracks rest harshly against the snowed in path. Your suppressed PDSW rests against your inner thigh.

You pull out your butterfly knife, using it to stim as you await the screech of the brakes. The way it moves. Its quickness creating a blurry effect around your hand. The sounds of it clicking through its gears. How it moves from one side to the other. How the blades wrap around your wrist like gentle kisses before they are plunged into the gut of an attacker. The sound, the sensation, the stim reminds you of home.

“No te preocupa, que te puedes cortar?” Alejandro asks, as he leans his head sideways towards you. You laugh, the first time you show any expression since the flight. Ghost’s head immediately pops up as he stares at the Colonel. Your eyes completely focused on Alejandro. “No, no, no,” you start with a giggle. “Estado haciendo esto toda mi vida.”

Another flick of your wrist, and your butterfly knife folds back into its handle. Alejandro’s eyes are as big as saucers. “Ay, chingada,” he mutters while pushing back his hair from his face. “Viste eso?” he says as he bumps his elbow into Rudy’s and points towards Soap.

The smile on Rudy’s face brings so much joy. He looks slightly embarrassed by how excited his partner was getting. When meeting Soap’s gaze, they both fell into a laugh. Gaz chuckles along to their reactions.

“You have to teach me, teniente,” Alejandro pleads. He pretends to do the wrist movement, failing beautifully. It also leads the entire van, except for Ghost, to burst into a fit of laughter. “After the mission,” you answer with amusement. “Let’s finish this first, boys.”

The four troublemakers slowly fall into a silent hum as they struggle to stifle their laughter. You nod towards Gaz, who quickly puts on his game face. “Soap,” he says as he turns to his brother in arms. “Overwatch, south east corner. The hotel, 34th floor. Vantage and scope with Gaz,” he answers with that thick accent. You feel comforted that Soap will be overwatch. If anything goes to shit, he will most definitely have the squad’s back.

“Ghost and I will meet at the north west corner. Radio when in position. Objective, retrieving stealth bomber and taking out HVT,” you share. Your tone calm, as though the words were a script. “Rudy,” Gaz says. “Check on coms that everyone’s in position,” Rudy follows. “Cut power with a three count, meet with Alejandro at north west entrance, move in, take out surrounding hostiles.” Alejandro adds, “I’ll be at South Bay Windows. On five count, I throw flash grenades and C4. Connect with Rudy.”

Soap clears his throat, leaning his elbow upon his leg. “And that’s when I take out the General’s security for you two to,” he starts. He slides this thumb straight across his throat with over exaggeration. You roll your eyes. Again, always making jokes at the most serious of times. But also that might have been a good one.

You look Ghost’s way and he is still dissociating outside the window. A part of your job is to ensure your mates are battle ready, that their head is in the game. It appears Ghost’s is somewhere intangible. “Lieutenant,” you call out. He responds with a grunt as he rests his chin against the palm of his hand. “Anything you’d like to add?”

Suddenly, the van comes to a screeching halt. The sound of the breaks is exactly what you were looking for. Your eyes close as you lean your head back once again. You take in a deep breath through your nostrils and out through your mouth. Some may call it a pre-mission ritual. Whatever it is, it always helps you get in the mindset.

With a shift of weight in the car, you open your eyes to watch as Ghost flings the back two doors open. He turns back, as he looks at his boys. You note that he is still avoiding eye contact with you. "Para Los Vaqueros," he says with determination. The sentimental statement puts you in a state of shock. That definitely was not on your bingo card of shit Ghost says.

Alejandro nods, before saying, "Gracias, hombre." His hand falling into a sturdy shake against Ghost's, who returns the enthusiasm. Overlapping voices appear as the entire squad fills with words. "Para Los Vaqueros," they repeat. You nod as you peer at your mates. You are confused by their connection. Why do Ghost, Gaz, and Soap feel so passionately about the "cowboy" elite group of the Mexican Special Forces. They call out to these vaqueros as though they were vaqueros themselves.

What the hell happened on that last mission with AQ?

You look around at the group, pushing away any questions, any confusion, any hesitations. You look at every single one. Studying their faces. All of them must come home. You will not lose a single soldier on this mission. "Para Los Vaqueros," you whisper to yourself. You stand, leading the boys to follow along as you walk outside and look through your thermal scope at the AQ base down the hill.

• no te preocupa, que te puedes cortar: aren't you worried you might cut yourself?

• estado haciendo esto toda mi vida: i’ve been doing this all my life

• ay, chingada: fuck

• viste eso: did you see that?

• gracias hombre: thank you man

2023.10.14, 2245

Ghost and you have steadily made your way down the hill. The snow is glistening and unfortunately crunches under your feet. With the amount of adrenaline pumping through your veins, the cold is not an issue. The two of you continue to be silent, despite talking to absolutely every other member of Task Force 141.

You spot the north west sewer entrance. With a quick huff, you dig your hands into the slits of the manhole and pull up. Ghost's hands rushes to support the metal. "I got it," you whisper as you gently place the metal on the concrete beside the manhole. "Of course, you do," he mumbles behind his mask. You take in a sharp breath, completely done with his silent treatment. "Get your ass down there. We're gonna have a word," you say in a quiet, yet strict drill sergeant voice.

Ghost sarcastically gestures for you to go down the manhole first. With a roll of your eyes, you kick your leg over and begin to climb down the chilly ladder. He follows closely behind, placing the manhole cover back where it belongs. It appears untouched. Your boots land into a thin layer of water. The smell was atrocious, but nothing you aren't used to at this point. The tunnel is of older construction and is not well kept.

"Why do you always have them tell you the plan before a mission?" he asks with a grumble of a tone. You sigh, at least he's talking. "Repeating the plan is how you avoid mistakes. I want to make sure that every person on this team knows exactly what they should be doing," you say as you point further down the sewer. He scoffs, a smile forming beneath the balaclava. "If they don't know the plan by now, they shouldn’t be a part of the 141," he gripes.

You turn back to him, blocking the way. With a clear and concise tone, you say, "You had every opportunity to share your input regarding this mission, Lieutenant. You chose not to do so. Now, I am not going to have you and your bullshit attitude interfere with this mission or my men." He scoffs again, making a vein protrude from one of your temples. "Pull your shit together, Simon."

"Yes, Lieutenant," Ghost says in a monotone. He may not have paused or shown hesitation, but he most definitely was bothered by the use of his first name. His eyes peer right over your head, looking past you and into the darkness of the sewer. Whether you like it out not, you are known to intermingle with your coworkers. Particularly, the one's that impress you or have given you a helpful skill that you haven't learned yet. But never one has that impacted your work, your mission. Not until now. You might need to rethink the dating coworkers.

You check in with yourself. You can immediately note the raise in blood pressure. How anger is building beneath your sternum with every glance of him. You cannot, will not risk your team. You needed to calm down. "One second," you say as you walk back and past him. You land your hand against the cold metal railing again, hoping the shocking sensation would ground you. You take a deep breath through your nose, closing your eyes, and breathing out through your mouth.

Suddenly, you feel gentle hands upon your upper biceps. They rub up and down, creating warmth. You continue your breathing, letting these hands carry your weight. "We can't lose any of them, Simon," you whisper with your head still forward. Your hand rests upon his right. "I have worked with these men for years," Ghost answers cooly. "You don't need to worry about them."

You take a deep, yet shaky breath. Your shoulders practically raising to your ears as you do. "I can't lose another soldier," you whisper. And in that moment, you reveal your biggest secret. The most classified piece of intel found on your record. Your little mistake cost the life of your friend, your comrade - Sarah.

You haven't led a mission since, despite your success record. But she will never leave your mind. She lives there now, constantly reminding you not to lose another soldier on your watch again. Not to put them in a tricky spot where they get captured and become KIA.

Arms collapse around you. A chin rests at the top of your shoulder. Your head leans against a temple. "I've lost people too," his voice whispers. "But we learn from those situations. I know I will never let what happened to my men happen to any others." He slowly releases the embrace. Your breathing steadies. "And I know you won't either, Aero," he says softly as he steps away from you.

Another deep breath and you raise your gun. You spin around and gesture to move forward. He follows you without delay. You raise your left wrist as you speak into the coms channel. “Moving in,” you say as you quickly bring that hand to steady your gun. Ghost’s steps slightly behind you.

You find yourself at a T. You can move straight or go right. You decide to go right as it is closer to the base’s direction. You lightly land yourself against the wall as you peer around the corner, gun first. “Clear,” you call out.

In steady formation, you and Ghost side step in tandem as you make your way down the hall. A soft ripple of water with each step of your boot. Your clothes black, seemingly disappearing amongst the darkness. Your shirt light weight, but with heavy cargo pants. Your kevlar vest thick against your chest.

Ghost pulls your attention. His head nods towards a door hidden within columns of the sewer. Light glows in a straight line underneath. No movement. He places himself at the left of the door. You move to cover the right.

On Ghost’s count, he kicks the door in and you move forward with your gun leading the way. Two hostiles playing cards in the corner. Without hesitation, you take them out with two silent bullets. Ghost comes behind you, his gun also raised to his sight line. “Clear,” he mutters.

You quickly look around to observe the room now that it’s clear. Yellow and black propaganda posters fill the room. The Farsi indicates ties with AQ, confirming your location. Ghost nods, agreeing with your unspoken thoughts.

You move forward into the next room slowly. It’s a kitchen, complete with fridge and sink. You note the gas stove as an option if needed. As you reach the front of the room, you spot the base of stone stairs leading to the main floor.

A creek of the door and you are both pressed firmly against the left wall. Crunch, crunch, crunch of the boots clashing against the rock as someone walks down the stairs. The man walks in, careless and completely unaware. Once hitting the basement floor, he takes his left and enters the small kitchen.

You are both in his line of sight now, yet his focus is solely on the fruit within the small fridge. He bends down to grab a pomegranate from the lower shelf. With that, you swiftly move to a position where you are directly behind him. He remains unbothered as he stands and takes a bite into the juicy, red fruit.

Carefully, you pull your bowie knife from your thigh holster. You put your right hand to his mouth as your left simultaneously digs your knife in between his ribs and directly into his heart. The man immediately dies, falling against your arms. You slowly guide him to the floor. Quickly, you wipe your blade against your thigh and return it to its sheath. You draw your weapon.

“Check in,” Ghost instructs in the coms. “Ready for count,” Soap answers. “Same here,” Alejandro adds. “Listos,” Rudy says. Ghost turns to you, awaiting your cue. You nod, raising your gun once more and you start deeply into the door at the top of the stairs. “Count it, Parra,” he says as he steps beside you, raising his own gun.

“3, 2, 1,” Rudy counts down. The lights turn off immediately. The still opened fridge door’s hums die down. You and Ghost move up the stairs. Two seconds later, Alejandro’s diversion could be heard. Glass shatters and a metallic item bounces on the floor. A pop and the flash brightens the area. You could see the light in the cracks of the door. Screaming and yelling ensues.

Ghost holds his fingers up, counting down. 3, 2, 1. You barge through the door. The warehouse seems to be retrofitted to be a pool dive. Pool tables rest between you and AQ. You spot the General on a lifted platform.

Two men yell and head your way. Ghost turns to his right, takes them out flawlessly, and returns to pushing forward. You spot two hiding behind the tables. They raise their guns to spray without looking. You rush behind a stone column close to you. You pull your coms band to your face. “Ghost, locate the drone.” Quickly, you drop into a prone and shoot the legs out from under them. Once they lay on their backs, you take the kill shot.

To your right, you hear the familiar sound of suppressed shots ringing through the air. The familiar panic caused when they realize they’re in a sniper’s sights. Any remaining AQ members were taken by Los Vaqueros. “Located,” Ghost shares over the coms. You make your way to the platform.

Bullets rain down from above as the General’s closest security take cover. You kick a table over, ducking behind it as it takes the majority of the shots. You mount your gun against its surface. You take out three of six of his men with ease.

Suddenly, you catch Ghost grabbing and knifing the men as they stay distracted on you. As the number becomes four out of six, you rush towards the platform. You grab your two throwing knives and flick it into the chests of the remaining two soldiers. Finally, you land your eyes on General Osman.

With a swift movement, you rush behind him. Your knife to his throat as you hook your other arm to pin his. "Put it down, General," you demand in Farsi. Osman's breath halts as he remains silent against your body.

"Did you enjoy your massacre?" he returns in English with his thick accent. "All these men, dead for what?" With careful consideration, you decide to delay the kill just in the case that he reveals intel in his last words. However, you certainly remain unbothered by his antagonizing speech.

Ghost studies your face, attempting to understand what thoughts travel your mind. Yet, he says nothing. Is that trust you detect? His finger rests lightly against the trigger. His sights directly onto the General's face with no intent of mercy if needed.

Your eyes scan the room for any hostiles left. Los Vaqueros continue to take out the final men with Soap and Gaz as backup. "Diversions, the electricity," Osman lists off, pulling you from your thoughts. "A successful mission I assume." Rolling your eyes, you tighten your grip and press the knife into the side of his throat. His talking is becoming less and less helpful.

Clearing his throat, Osman adjusts his stance, attempting to pull from your knife. You don’t let him. "But I guess it always comes down to the snipers," he says softly. "Are yours better? Or mine?"

Two muffled shots. Civilians may not immediately recognize it, but you know that sound anywhere. Your eyes shoot towards Ghost's, who matches your widening eyes. "Soap!" he yells into his coms. No response. Your eyes fall as you attempt to accept the idea that Gaz and Soap may have been lost. Your breath is shaky and rough as you still hold the General's restraint.

Suddenly, a blast rings through the room. “RPG,” Alejandro yells as you catch a glimpse of the missle. It explodes against several columns, causing the roofing above to collapse into the room. The debris causes a wall, and you can no longer see your two men. Although stunned, your restraint is unfazed against him.

Another blast and your coms scream a high pitched ringing tone that has you digging into your ear to get your ear piece. "DDOS," Ghost yells. You drop the General's arm, whether you want to or not, with your involuntary attempt to save your hearing. Your knife still pressed tightly against his skin.

Osman took advantage of the opportunity, digging his elbow into your gut. You slice his adam’s apple. However brutal and permanent, it is not fatal. You quickly recover and rush towards him, but you are stopped. A shot rings through the air.

Your entire body goes cold, despite feeling a burning pain in your gut and lower back. Your knees start to shake, something you could not comprehend. A loud ringing is present in your ears. Maybe you didn't save your hearing in time.

Before you knew it, you are down on your knees and down again onto your side. Muffled yells appear behind you as bullets shoot over your head. You feel a rough tug against your vest. You are pulled backwards, skidding upon your bottom back down to the main floor, then the stairs and into the basement. Each step of the cold stone destroys you. You try your best to hold onto the pain, but your body demands for you to scream in response.

"Aero, Aero, keep your eyes open," you hear a familiar woman’s voice yells at you, but you could not place who it is. Another turn and you realize you’re on your way back to the sewer’s tunnels. Slowly, your cognitive abilities are returning. You look down to begin assessing yourself. Your look at your stomach, pulling the waistband of your pants down and your shirt up. The movement causes you to take harsh, hissing breaths.

You are bleeding heavily. A trail being left behind your legs. With quick breaths, you apply pressure to your wound. You bite your lip, almost to the point of ripping into it, just to keep your screams in. The placement of the shot was clearly intended to incapacitate, but not kill. Yes, they would’ve have to give you immediate medical care but their intent was surely to hold you as a POW. To interrogate you, no doubt.

Finally, you find yourself in the sewers. The water slides up your back, but you don’t have the pleasure of feeling uncomfortable. Ghost ensures that your wounds are not touched by the dirtied liquid. As you turn a corner, the hand holding your vest props you up against the wall. You groan as your chest raises and your weight distributes.

Ghost’s skulled mask appears in your view. If you didn’t know him, you would’ve thought the grim reaper was coming to bring you home. Without talking to you, he carefully inspects your wound just as you did. He then tugs against your vest’s strap to pull you off the wall. The pain is insurmountable. You yelp with eyes tightly closed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Ghost says hastily. “I see an exit wound. We just need to get a hold of the bleeding.” He looks down at his shirt and quickly rips at the lower hem. He lifts your hand from your stomach and places the cloth upon the wound. You wince but slowly put your hand back to pressing firmly onto the rolled ball.

This is not your first time being shot, nor will it be your last. You know there’s always a chance that you’re not going on with each and every mission. Any time you’ve been shot, you accept the idea that you will die - because that’s more likely than you getting out. God, did you wanna get out. You miss the sunlight. The trees. The grass. You hope you’ll see it again.

“Okay, I’m going to move you again,” Ghost says as he reaches for your vest. You swat him away, grumbling “no”s, doing anything to avoid the pain. “I know, darling, I know,” he coos as he pulls you off the wall. You let out a squeeze, trying desperately hard to stay silent.

He drags you behind him. His intent to bring you somewhere safer to be patched up, but your rational mind reminds you of the unlikely probability of that happening. “Ghost, please,” you whine as he pulls against your strap. “Simon!” you yell. You feel a slight hesitation but he continues on. “We’re not stopping,” he says as he continues moving forward. “Just go,” you demand weakly. “Make sure they’re okay.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ghost spits out. The words, they take so much energy. The sensations of the water, the blood, the gun shot slowly fade away. You mutter to yourself, “Save them. Save them. Save them.” By the third “save them,” your voice disappeared. The hand pressure against your wound becomes weaker and weaker. Your chin slumps against the strap he pulls at.

Upon feeling your cheek on his hand, Ghost pulls you to a wall again. The palms of his hands immediately, lightly slapping your cheeks. “No, no, no,” he pleads. “Stay with me, Aero.” You could hear the worry in his voice. Emotions do not come natural for him, and yet you’ve seen so much of it in less than 24 hours. “Save them,” you whisper before your eyes close and you accept your fate.

• listos: ready

• ddos: small emp attack, distributed denial-of-service

note: insert maniacal laughter here! thank you for reading. i hope you enjoyed! we have a few more parts, feel free to follow along on the series' masterlist! have a happy & safe pride!

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taglist: @hoosier-daddy01 @hypernovaxx @edenstarkk, @confuseddipshit

• nav • no-no plagiarism • one shot • collection of pride pairings •

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