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mockerycrow · 6 months

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Hey again Crow, I wanted to see your take on ghost x male!reader w/ "I already lost them, I can't lose you too." I know this one is gonna sting, bring it on!

HEAVEN FORBID (Ghost x Male!Reader) — 4K CELEBRATION

[THIS HAS MAJOR MWIII SPOILERS. DO NOT PROCEED IF YOU DO NOT WANT SPOILERS.]

[WARNINGS; mentioned mcd, blood and gore, descriptions of major injury, talks of dying, hurt/no comfort, unconventional confessions, open ending.]

THE FIRST THING you notice is the pulsing in your side; it’s matching up with the pounding in your chest, your heart. The second thing you notice is that your eyelids are heavy, almost like they’re refusing to cooperate—then it’s the ringing. Fuck, the ringing. Your tongue feels like a piece of cotton as you try to lick your lips—they taste odd—you barely feel the sensation, anyway. Your eyebrows scrunch together for a moment as you try to move your legs and you’re not too sure if they did move. Huh.

Your eyes eventually open, your blurry vision staring up into the night sky, smoking swirling into the dark view. You think that the view is gorgeous, the stars populating the wide sky. You don’t get to see them too often because of light population but holy shit, are they beautiful. Twinkling with their everlasting light for anyone to see. Right below your ear tickles, so you bring one of your hands and wipe at your own skin, noticing how.. difficult it was to move your arm like that. Your fingertips feel wet.

You pull back your hand which is trembling and your fingertips and glove is coated in dark red; your own blood. Your eyebrows furrow as you wipe at the same spot on your neck and your hand just comes back with more. That’s not good. You blink slowly, not even minding that you can’t hear anything than ringing right now. You don’t have to listen to the sound of gunfire anymore, explosions..

Wait.. Explosions?

You turn your head to the left and you notice that there is rubble all around you, making you blink once again. Your lungs sting a bit, sure, but why is there rubble? You turn your head to the right and you see your gun pinned under a large concrete block as well as a rapidly growing blood puddle forming underneath from the next large pieces of rubble to your rifle. That’s.. What the fuck.

Then it hits you all at once.

The pain is fucking blinding, coming from multiple areas of yourself; your head, your ear, your back, your side, your fucking chest—but your legs only have dull pains. You squeeze your eyes together as you cannot hold back the choked groan that leaves your lips as both your body and mind tries to comprehend your pain and your injuries. Your left eardrum has surely bursted, you’ve never felt this type of pain before and you can hear the sounds of gunfire and blazing fire roaring in the right. Your radio. You remember your radio. Your left hand, the one coated in your blood, reaches for your chest radio and you flip stations until you hear any chatter, chatter that sounds familiar—

Nothing. You let out a harsh breath as you get fucking nothing, which means they either knocked down the towers or your radio is fucking busted. You try to swear but your throat aches so badly you don’t try again. You take in a shaky, deep breath, trying to reel your mind back in to focus; you need to check how injured you are. First step is to assess. No big deal, right?

You pick your head up—it takes a lot of effort to do so, and the back of your head is wet—and you look down—oh fuck.

You feel the bile bubble up in your throat when you catch sight of rusty rebar sticking up and is in your left side, penetrating it and coming out a bit near your belly button area, the metal coated in a sheen layer of your blood. Your uniform is stained and slick with your blood, there’s a large concrete price of rubble pinning your right hip down, and there’s other large pieces of rubble pinning both of your legs down, neither of them which you can feel at the moment.

You put your head down as you try to swallow a sob whilst closing your eyes, trying to ignore the pain and the gunfire around you, the aircraft’s flying back and forth in the sky. You aren’t sure how long it is when you hear someone approach you, but they aren’t rushing towards you. You already feel quite cold, but a rush of freezing panic flows through your veins to your fingertips.

“Who said yer allowed t’die??”

Huh. Soap. Didn’t expect him. You note that his voice is very overpowering, the sounds of gunfire dulling. “I’m talkin’ t’ye, eejit!”

‘I know that.’ You think, but you just can’t will yourself to open your eyes. You hear Soap approach you and you feel his gloved hands grab your hand, cradling it, as if he’s trying to protect you. “Y’need to focus on t’pain, aye? C’mon, don’t stay here. Y’can’t stay here.”

‘But it hurts, John. It hurts so bad.’ You reply in your head—you don’t question how he knows what you’re thinking—but all of your pain is slowly melting away. Why wouldn’t you want to stay here? Pain free with one of your closest friends, even if he is getting angry with you.. You very much prefer it over the excruciating pain in your abdomen, ear, and back. And probably your legs if you could feel them.

You feel a gentle hand swipe at your ear and jaw, like they’re cleaning the blood away. Another gentle touch to your chest up to your neck near your pulse point, but without a glove this time. “I miss you.” You whisper, feeling yourself unable to rub your face into Soap’s gentle touch. “I know, lad, I know.” Soap murmurs, his voice soothing and gentle. “Don’t let Makarov take ye like he took me.”

“Wake up.”

You gasp as your eyelids fly open, three people looming above you whilst one of them is cradling your face. You cough violently, your throat burning and aching as your vision attempts to focus on the figure that is closer to your face than the other two. The pain is unbearable, a broken sob leaving your lips as your hands go to clench your abdomen, but the person cradling your face uses one of their hands to swat your hands away.

“C’mon—yeah, there you are, love, there you are..” The man who is above you murmurs with a slight shake to his deep voice. You note he sounds familiar, but that thought doesn’t last long as you can tell the two other blurry figures quickly start to begin to move rubble away from you.

“Huh?” You say mindlessly, unable to comprehend what’s going on. You hear fire roaring and and people’s worried chatters and your own heartbeat, fuck, it’s so loud and you can barely hear as it is—

A hand cups your face and moves your head. “Focus here, yeah?”

It takes you a hot second to focus your eyes, but you’re met with a familiar skull plate attached to a balaclava—Ghost. He’s staring at you with wide and worried eyes, a look you’ve only seen a couple other times. “G.. Ghost.” You croak in surprise, looking at him. He nods insistently, a little relief lighting his eyes. “It’s me, love. It’s me. Glad to see those pretty eyes of yours.”

You laugh, but it more comes out as a weird noise as your eyes fill with tears, blurring your vision once more. You blink and they spill down your dust and blood caked face. You vaguely note in your head that Price and Gaz are working to get the pressure off of your legs. “Pretty eyes?” You croak. “Last I recalled, I was a pretty boy.”

That earns a huff from Ghost and a nod, his eyes locking with yours. “That too, the prettiest. Prettier than Gaz.” Ghost remarks, making you snort gently—you feel lightheaded. “No one’s prettier than Gaz, mate.” You mumble, your eyelids threatening to close. “Oi—“ Ghost hisses out, grabbing your face more harshly to shock you awake, which it does. “—Stay awake. We need y’to stay awake.” He insists, his voice breathless. “Trying.” You whisper, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist.

You try to look down but Ghost keeps your head in place. “No- just keep lookin’ at me, darlin’. Only me, alright?” Ghost hums, trying to conceal the shake in his tone. “Already saw,” You reply with a sniffle. “It isn’t pretty, I know.” You watch Ghost close his eyes in sadness for a moment, you both know if you survive this, you’ll likely be plagued with this image for the rest of your life. A piece of rebar sticking out of you as well as the image of your legs covered in debris. You aren’t even sure if you’ll be able to use your legs after this.

“Need you to stay wit’me, alright?” Ghost murmurs. “I already lost him.. I can’t lose you, too.”

Your pounding heart stutters in your chest from the admission—you and Ghost both miss Soap. You have for months; Makarov got away after brutally murdering your boy. You’ve grieved for so long, grieved with the others; it was so obvious someone has been missing from your team dynamic. Every time Ghost makes a joke, you always half-expect to hear Soap’s relentless comments, but they never came. A heavy silence fell over everyone after every joke, because all four of you knew what everyone else was expecting. His voice.

How do you explain that you talked to him just five, maybe six minutes ago? How do you explain to the others that Soap is the reason why you opened your eyes again? You aren’t sure. “Fuck, please—“ Ghost suddenly shakes you—you were closing your eyes again, and you’re blinking awake once more. You inhale sharply as you slur something without thinking about it, but Ghost’s eyebrows furrow. “Couldn’t hear you, love. Speak up f’me, yeah?”

You clear your throat and blink, hot tears trailing down your face—you feel colder than earlier. “I love you,” You slur, followed by a sob. “N.. Need you t’know that. Love you, I have for.. a while.” A beat passes. “Soap knew that.” There’s a unreadable noise that comes from Ghost after you say that. “Don’t—don’t bloody tell me that right now, you fuckin’ wanker—“ Ghost hisses, but you can tell his voice breaks at the very end. You let out a wet laugh before you cough a bit. You wipe your lip with the back of one of your hands to see more blood staining your gloves.

You shudder as you look at Ghost, and you wonder if you’ll make it out of this alive like Ghost wants you to, like the others do, like Soap does. Like you do. You sob as you lean into his warm touch, his heat radiating through his remaining gloved hand, his bare hand wiping the debris off of your forehead. You hope you’ll be able to properly confess after this.

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