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roosterr · 10 months

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white flag ✹ proglogue

note: can't believe i'm actually writing for ghost, yes he was the reason i got into cod, but i havent thought about him since like january lol. has this trope already been done? yes. am i doing it anyway? also yes.

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 2.2k

no use of y/n readers callsign is 'stingray'

summary: if there's one constant in your life, it's that ghost doesn't like you, so when your house burns down and you have no choice but to move in with him, it feels like your life is on a steady downhill spiral.

warnings: slowburn, some angst, your house burns down, ghost is mean, sort of enemies to friends to lovers

ao3

【next】

it's been almost a year since you'd joined the taskforce. nearly twelve months of gruelling hard work, and not for a single second had lieutenant ghost treated you with a shred of familiarity. at first, you thought he'd get over it, that he'd get past his obvious trust issues and warm up to you eventually, but you quickly gave up on that idea.

clearly, you'd been too optimistic.

which was unfortunate, considering how much you'd come to care for the prickly bastard, no matter how dismissive he was of you. it started slow; when you were first recruited, you held a great deal of respect for him because of his reputation, and you'd naively even looked forward to working with him. when you discovered his less than friendly demeanour, to say you were disheartened would be an understatement. he was withdrawn and stoic, never sparing you so much as a passing glance and a barked order, whether you were in the field or not.

the other sergeants had assured you that he wasn't as cold as he comes across; soap and gaz both told you how he'd acted the same towards them when they first met – he was a lone wolf, not used to having to look out for teammates.

the more time you spent on missions with him, the more you saw of the person beneath the hard exterior. you saw how he seemed to know everyone's strengths and weaknesses, things you never would've picked up on. he always made sure the team had eaten, disguised as a gruff order to stay on your game. when he got angry, it would be because someone put themselves in danger, not because they screwed up the mission. you saw someone who'd been through hell and come out the other side swinging.

before, you'd respected ghost as a soldier and your superior, but now, after spending so much time with him, your perspective of him has changed. he intrigued you; he's quiet, introverted but not shy, more observant than you could imagine, and so closely guarded you wondered if he'd ever be able to open up. you'd only heard whispers of the things he'd been through in the past, so despite his obvious animosity towards you, you treated him with the respect you thought he deserved – like a person, and you'd hoped that with time, he could see you as more than just a soldier too. though he still didn't like you, you liked to think that the two of you have come to some sort of understanding.

and that leads you to your problem; you wanted to know him. every tiny crack in his facade made you more and more curious about the man behind the mask – about simon, rather than ghost, but from what you could tell, he didn't hold the same sentiment about you. where he would banter back and forth with the others over comms, he'd fall silent whenever you join in. every minute little mistake was amplified to him, you've lost count of the amount of times he's berated you for things he's excused for others. it made your heart ache that you just couldn't win with him, and you feared you'd never understand why.

but now, as you sit shivering with a shock blanket wrapped around your shoulders, watching the smouldering remains of what was your home in the middle of the night, freezing and exhausted, you'd never felt more hated.

you could hear them, ghost and the captain, talking in hushed voices a little ways down the road from where you sit. they probably think they're being subtle, discussing what to do with you like you're not even there, like every single one of your worldly possessions hadn't just gone up in smoke, but you hear them as if they're standing right in front of you.

"i wouldn't do this if there were any other options, simon."

"there are plenty of other options, just stick 'em in a hotel for god's sake."

"there's no hotels close enough to base – it'll only be temporary, 'till we can find 'em somewhere else."

"fuckin' hell, why cant they go with one of the others?"

"soap and gaz are already flatmates, you live alone and you're the closest to base. this is the only option that makes sense."

"i'm not fuckin' happy about this, price."

their profiles are momentarily illuminated by the blue lights from the fire engine parked nearby, allowing you for a second to see the withering glare ghost is sending your way, and all of a sudden the last couple hours of emotional distress is crashing down on you; his obvious distaste for you combined with the toll of watching your house literally burning down was too much for you all at once. you could feel the tears start to spill over again, but you can’t find the strength to stop them and just bring the shock blanket closer to your face. you’d lost everything, and even now he couldn’t find it in himself to feel an ounce of compassion for you? why can’t he care for you like he does the others? like you do for him?

as your watery gaze drops to the soot and ash covering your pyjamas, a voice sounds from beside you, the opposite direction from price and ghost. you don’t even realise you’re hyperventilating until they lay a hand on your shoulder and rub soothing circles into your back.

“hey– hey, it’s okay,” it’s gaz, you notice in the back of your mind, sitting on the curb next to you. you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the world around you, and gaz brings you closer into his embrace. “you’ll be alright, we’ll get everything sorted, yeah?”

"i– i don't– i can't–" you try to speak, but you can't seem to form a coherent sentence through your sobbing.

"it's alright, just breathe for me." gaz hugs you tighter again, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as he consoles you. for a few minutes you stay like that, your breathing eventuslly returning to normal and the tears slowing to a stop.

price and ghost are still arguing, but you can't hear what they're saying anymore; probably for the best, if you had to listen to ghost complain about you for one more second you might really have a breakdown.

soap's voice cuts through the fog in your mind, "managed to find this, thought ya' might want it." you look up to find him crouching in front of you and holding out a slightly singed photo, a weak smile on his face. "frame's broken, but the picture's still mostly fine."

you take it from him, fingers grasping the card gently as you turn it around to look at the picture. it's from a few years ago, you and your friends from your previous unit, smiling into the camera as if you had no worries at all. staring at the ghosts of your friends starts you crying again, clutching the photo to your chest and leaning back into gaz's shoulder. if anything could've survived the blaze, you're grateful it was this. gaz rubs your arm sofly, whispering comforting words to you again.

you hear another set of footsteps approach and look up again to see price now standing in front of you as well. it's not exactly surprising, but ghost is nowhere to be seen.

"ambulance is here," price says, offering you a hand and pulling you to your feet when you take it. "i'll follow behind to the hospital, one of you two take their car to simon's."

you nod and retrieve your car keys from your jacket pocket, thankful you'd had the mind to grab it on your way out in your frantic state.

"I've got a bag in the boot, it's got some clothes in it." you mutter, handing the keys to soap, who smiles and gives you a pat on the shoulder.

"no bother, i'll grab it for ya." he says, and jogs off to where your car was parked, thankfully untouched out of reach of the fire. he returns not a minute layer carrying your duffle of emergency supplies, something you never thought would actually come in handy.

before you know it you're waving gaz and soap goodbye, the paramedics are guiding you to the back of the ambulance, and you're leaving what remains of your old home in the rear-view mirror.

✹✹✹

you hated hospitals. it was a fact, and it had been that way since you were a child, everything about them just made your skin crawl. perhaps you inherited the feeling from your mother; she always managed to bring up her distaste for the place whenever the topic arose. or, maybe you only hated them because they scared you.

either way, the relief you felt as you stepped out of the front door into the car park with price trailing behind you was palpable. he falls into step next to you as the two of you make your way over to where he parked, his keys jingling as he fishes them from his pocket.

"we're puttin' you up with simon for the time being, 'till we can get you somewhere else." his words make you wince; you already knew he was going to say that, but it didn't stop the anxiety from bubbling up in your chest.

"i heard." a beat of silence passes before you continue. "how long will that take?" you ask, climbing into the passenger seat and dropping your bag at your feet as price settles into the driver's side.

"i wouldn't get your hopes up. might be quicker to wait for 'em to rebuild your old place." he flashes you a smile, but you can't find it in yourself to return the gesture.

"right."

neither of you say another word as he starts the engine and pulls out of the car park. you turn to look out the window, watching the world go by, the quiet rambling of the radio serving as white noise in the background. it's the early hours of the morning now, the sun would be up in a few hours and you'd have to go back to work already – price did say you could have the day off, but honestly the last thing you wanted was to sit around all day with nothing to do but overthink.

after nearly ten minutes of trying to ignore it, the worry playing at your mind becomes too much to keep to yourself.

"you know he hates me, right?" you utter, half expecting price to ignore your question all together.

he clicks his tongue. "he doesn't hate you," price replies, and his voice sounds reassuring but it doesn't bring you much comfort.

"okay, well, he doesn't like me either." you turn your head to look at him, raising your brows. rolling to a stop at a red light, he meets your eyes and huffs.

"alright, he can be difficult–"

"really?"

"–but i promise you, he doesn't hate you." he says. you give him a disbelieving look, and he sighs, looking back to the road as the light turns green. "give him a chance, alright?"

"is he gonna give me a chance?"

"he will." price says firmly, sparing you a look as he drives down the quiet road. "and if he doesn't, you'll knock some sense into him, eh?"

"sure…" you mutter, looking back out the window and falling back into silence. its only a few minutes until he's pulling over to the side of the road, outside the house number you know to be ghost's.

"sting," price calls out, stopping you as you reach for the door handle, "he'll come around, alright?"

"it's been a year, cap. i don't think he will." you reply, and before he can say anything else you open the door and step out into the night air, grabbing your bag from your feet before closing the door again. you give price a half-hearted wave as he pulls away again, before turning around and gazing up at your – temporary – new home.

it was nice, all things considered; a standard terrace on the end of the row, but the size has you wondering if there was even room for you to stay here. though it's not as if you have a choice. all the lights were off, which had you hopeful that you wouldn't run into ghost just yet.

you drag yourself to the front door, your eyes stinging from the effort of keeping them open, and twist the handle as quietly as possible, closing it behind you and cringing at the clunk it makes. thankfully ghost didn't hate you enough to lock you out for the night, something you actually wouldn't put past him considering how he feels about you.

there's a small side table in the entryway that catches your attention. on top of it sits your car keys – you make a mental note to thank soap in the morning – a new key, and a note. you pick up the paper, using the torch from your phone to examine the scratchy handwriting.

living room's yours. lock the door. – s

it's more than you expected from him. you sigh to yourself and pick up the other key, locking the door and shuffling into the small living room. the pull-out bed is made up for you, albeit quite messily, and you waste no time in dropping your stuff and laying your head down on the lumpy pillow.

with any luck, this arrangement wouldn't last long, but in the meantime you got the feeling you were in for a bumpy ride.

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #141 x reader #call of duty x reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley #mw2 ghost #roosterr writes #praying that hes not ooc

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orbdotexe · 5 months

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The Young Wolf and the Hunter Vanguard had been very good friends, before the Prison. Cayde-6 had been left in a coma after the fight and losing his Ghost, and the last the Guardian had seen of him was the Queen’s Wrath hauling his unconscious form away from them, cursing them for trying to kill him. They had seen him die, saw his eyes lose their glow. They had gathered up Sundance’s shell after Petra was gone and had swept up the leftover Scorn, and her shell pieces were about the only well taken-care-of thing on their ship… It wasn't until Crow mentioned Cayde complaining about being stuck in the Tower “for his own safety” that the Guardian realized he had survived. Crow, however, neglected to ever mention the ‘reunion’ he had since been planning for them.

[Cayde POV]

Aaand here you go, Eternal! I'm finally posting the Cayde Hug, please don't stab me

anyway yeah! the "open secret" is that House Light is... secretly thankful to the Young Wolf for killing Lakshmi. The target is off the House's back! and... now its 10x harder to get anyone to listen that Wolf is. not trying to destabilize the City. oh yeah, and Wolf is having hallucinations from the Black Heart in this (and Fortunate Encounter) and Cayde... very much does not know. so keep that in mind--

[ao3 link]

It took days, maybe a week or two, to finally slip away—and even more planning; a Hunter’s nightmare.

It's not like he could just fly out with a favor from Amanda—even she's been on high-alert since his last attempt had been foiled and they found out he'd been trying to get in-touch with the Young Wolf (and had gotten both himself and Crow in trouble, but... they both knew it'd happen).

He's never been more glad for the ‘open secret’ and Crow's connection to the Eliksni.

But, hey, he's out now! And it feels great to be out of the Tower—This might be the most free he's ever felt since getting this job. Cayde elects to ignore just how much of a prison the Tower had turned into for him. He never thought it could get worse, before…

Shaking that unfortunate thought away, he... has some trouble keeping his initial excitement and relief at seeing them again. He can feel it fading in his gut, and he can't help but feel guilty about it. It's just the stories getting to him. He doesn't believe any of it.

He is, still, relieved—He heard how his Hunter was doing. He's seen the pictures, and the videos. He's read the reports and VanNet posts. Cayde knows they need this. There is a little doubt creeping in, though, that maybe a surprise meeting won't turn out the best–

Crow can assure him all he wants! Cayde knows his student, and he knows they've never liked personal surprises (surprise fights, on the other hand, were fine), and there's no way that dislike hasn't amplified since their exile.

Crow finds himself getting more concerned and uncertain than before. Cayde doesn't usually sound unsure of himself. Especially not half-way through a plan.

Crow already brought Wolf to the place, so if Cayde starts trying to back out now, after all of this, his hands might really be the death of the Hunter Vanguard.

—

"Soo... this is the spot you picked, Crow?"

"Oh, try not to sound so disappointed. You couldn’t do any better."

"I've been stuck in the Tower!"

"Look on the bright side—It's got windows."

"All the walls have holes in them–"

"I thought it'd help them not feel trapped!"

"Holes?? I think you'd be looking for less walls, bird boy, and no roof–"

"Do not call me that."

"You let the Guardian call you that."

"Wha– Where'd you hear that?!"

"Glint."

"I should've seen that coming... Just go! Before they think I'm pranking them."

—

After sufficient back and forth arguing, Crow just about shoves Cayde out the ship and he finally approaches the dilapidated ruins. His old student should be... just at the top... of the stairs. By his majestic horn, he has to walk up how far?

It was times like these that Cayde really wished he could still double jump.

Heaving an overdramatic sigh into the comms, he makes his way up the crumbling steps and listens to Crow mock him for it.

—

Cayde was nearer to the top of the ruins now, and the room was anything but covered. Half of the room’s roof was collapsed inwards, along with the walls of the far corner, exposing the landscape beyond.

So, maybe Crow had a point, but that’s not important.

Sat down on a pile of rubble in the collapsed corner, The Young Wolf stared out at the overlooking scape, heavy forest intercut by patches of collapsed concrete mounds and natural cobble. From up here, he’d call it the perfect place for a pack of Hunters, with the low-hanging branches and plenty of brush surrounding shadowed structures.

The Guardian stood out against the greens, browns and greys beyond the outlook like a sore thumb—almost literally, too, being draped in reds.

Though Cayde’s sure they heard him coming up the stairs, as any good Hunter would, he hesitates to grab their attention. What should he even do? Pat them on the shoulder? Kick a rock at them? What would be the right tone for this? Crow said they thought he was dead…

And there’s that budding dread, again.

Probably best to avoid anything too sudden, right? They don’t seem to have noticed him, afterall (or they were politely waiting for him to get his bearings—But he doubted it), and Crow said they were, at best, on edge.

Cayde opted to clear his throat as he carefully approached them, though the sound came out more grainy than he intended. Damn his voice module.

When they finally look over to him, their face...

It’s wrong.

Not that it had twisted into something nightmarish (though it reminded him of what he would see in the Deep Stone dreams), or something bloody and horrid, but... Their once sharp features were soft in a way Cayde never wanted to see again.

There were little nicks and larger scars, a few looked as if they had been infected at some point—usually he'd call it rugged and rough, but it only served to make them more…

He hated the thought—to pity a Hunter is to see less of them—but it was unavoidable.

Cayde realizes it feels like they were staring right through him with an, honestly? Blank look—before they look away, right back to staring out at the landscape. Not even acknowledging him.

"Guardian..? Kid?"

They flinch, something small and nearly unnoticeable that anyone else wouldn't have picked up on, and... They're ignoring him?

After all this time? What happened?

He narrows his eyes at them, trying to figure out if this is some kind of joke. If it is, it's a terrible one.

Cayde leans over and waves a hand in front of their face to try and get them to swat at him, or just to get... really, any reaction out of them. But they don't. They squint a bit, like they're trying to keep something in, but don’t even lean back away from his hand.

Don't like that.

He steps back, mockingly rubbing his chin to hide his anxiety. If there’s one thing he’s an expert at, its making people pay attention to him. Not even Zavala could–…

Cayde clears his throat, knowing the uselessness of the action.

What did he do? Did Crow set him up for this? No, the young Hunter knew how important this is… There’s a quiet but grating sound as he grinds the innerworkings of his jaw. They don’t seem angry. Drawn in on themself—which Cayde can’t fault them for; he has been as well—but not angry.

So, what is this, then? His own building frustration tells him a very in-poor-taste prank. What little logic he has tells him that’s stupid; that they just don’t know how to react, maybe.

Still, Cayde’s frustration wins over, and as he steps forward to grab their attention, he kicks some gravel up—one thunking against their back. He pauses as they startle and their hand snaps to their sword, before going jarringly still. All movement stops there, down to their breathing, and his own synthetic breath catches.

The Guardian turns, hand lowering from the handle—slowly; cautiously—to look at him, and…

Their eyes widen in what he assumes is realization, a glassy sheen building in them– Did he… No, wait, they haven’t seen him alive in years, but why would they— The very tangible realization of how they must have felt this entire time hits him like a brick, and he thinks he might have thrown up from the anxious knot in his stomach, were it not for his Exo body.

He doesn’t understand why it would take them so long to react to him, or why their reaction was to grab their weapon, but the look on their face wipes the thought and any frustration from Cayde’s mind. His mouth draws closed, and his shoulders relax, but neither of them make any moves until they shuffle onto their feet.

After a few painful moments of silence and surprised eye contact, they take a jerky step forward, and–

And they hug him.

Huh. He can't remember them hugging him before–

Oh, wait, they're shaking.

No, they're crying– He's never seen them cry before, either.

A lot of firsts happening here...

"Guardian..."

They basically claw into the gaps in his shoulder plates, even through his leather armor, at his voice– They really did think he was dead all this time...

"Whaat,” he tries to laugh as he returns the hug, “I thought Crow told you I was still kick– kicking?"

He realizes his eyes burn with phantom stings, but his damned metal face doesn't let him cry. He wishes he could cry with them. They both deserve to cry here.

Them first. They need it more than anyone.

The Guardian grumbles incoherently into his shoulder at his picking. He doesn't complain.

"Well, kid, I guess I'm just too handsome to cry, huh?” He knows his voice broke up, but it doesn't matter. Not anymore. Not here, not while he's finally got his friend back.

He leans into the hug, and lets the silence hang in the air.

It stays that way for a few minutes, just standing and hanging onto each other, praying they can weather this, but… There's just something he needs to say before he bursts, or time runs out.

"I, ah... Well. About Lakshmi." Straight to the point. Not his specialty… Cayde can feel them get tense, and dig their fingers harder into his back. They do not look up at him.

"I know why you did it. Honestly, it was... kinda brilliant, but I'd expect nothing less of my favorite Guardian! I mean, taking the target off House Light's back in one move?"

They just snort. Kinda harshly, actually, but at least they relaxed back a bit.

Right... This is supposed to be serious. He sighs, "Alright, alright. But I do understand, really. I... just wish you'd gone about it differently, though—Now it's about impossible to prove you're innocent." Well, of trying to kill him, at least.

He wishes they'd speak, though. Cayde's not surprised, but it's been awhile, and he's not used to it anymore, and... It'd be nice to have a conversation partner that took him seriously for once.

Not that the Young Wolf doesn't, it's just... The silence isn't comforting anymore.

When they finally pull away, Cayde can see the tear streaks through the layers of grime on their face, and… a swirling black on the outskirts of their eyes. He blinks, takes a breath, and opts to question it another day—despite the gnawing mark it leaves on his relief.

"You uh... You do need to clean your armor, though." Probably a bit more than just the armor. "I am not hugging you again until you do," he says, scrunching his face up to the best of his ability. They only glare back at him.

—

> “Hate to cut off the reunion, but we’re just about out of time. You almost done?” <

Of course, Cayde can’t just answer him like a normal person, and instead—

> "Y'know, Crow told me you actually spoke to him. Care to- Hey! Not the horn!" <

—Taunts them.

Crow sighs. Cayde was going to complain about that the whole ride back, wasn't he?

#destiny 2 #the forsaken exile #destiny 2 crow #destiny cayde #the young wolf #wolf is fiiiillthyyyyyy. stinky dirty guardian #and we love some corruption. yeah yeah yeah yeah <3 #wolf is not having a good time and Cayde is mentally sweating once he gets back to the tower.#just. 'oh. oh no.'#bc he *remembers* eyes like those... he remembers the prison.#But hey! He can ignore the crisis for a bit yeah??#pray that the confirmation of his wellbeing ties them over n all that!#anyway yay! ao3 and tumblr getting two different sets of my dumbass rambling!#literally i have no idea how ooc this is. i think his voice is at least accurate and *sounds* like him. but there are parts #where his thought process might not be on-parr. so bare with me

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