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lovingapparition · 9 months

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i’ve got a river running right into you.

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn

Warnings for descriptions of medical gore.

Ghost gets hurt. Ghost is touch starved. You just want to help. It’s awkward.

NOT COMPLETE / NO BETA

It's loud in the medical bay. The lights overhead buzz, adding their hum to the sound of clinking medical instruments, shouted calls for supplies, and the pained sounds of the injured. No set of hands are still as the wounded are wheeled in on gurneys or dragged in by their fellow soldiers. There's too much iron in the air to really adhere to the stricter medical protocols, and it's a scramble for everyone to assess and treat the damage in front of them. Each doctor's movements are efficient and practiced; stitching a wound just as a soldier would clean a gun.

Just another day on the job.

You were hustling from one sectioned off bed to another, caught in the flow of all the action in the medical bay. The thin curtains between beds did nothing to muffle the chaos of the situation. Too many bodies were moving in and out of the area, it was almost dizzying. Your section of the unit had been chaotic for the better part of three hours, leaving you no time to stop and breathe. It seems things had gone south on the recent mission. The details of which were lost on you, but they didn’t matter now.

Stepping behind a curtain, you immediately get to work assessing the situation the soldier on the bed has found herself in, and you set about putting her back together. She's only caught minor fragments of shrapnel in her upper arms and chest. Nothing deep and nothing dangerous. It doesn't take you long to patch her up, thankfully. As you work, your brain vaguely registers that your medical team must be shifting focus to the less severely injured of the bunch.

You and the soldier both breathe a shared sigh of relief as you finish up her sutures. She only needs a few, and you tell her to return in about a week to check in before they can be removed. As you fill out her paperwork with a quick hand, you notice that the sounds of the room have hushed. You must be reaching the end of the torrent of injured soldiers.

Though small, your team was incredibly efficient; working like a machine during frenzied moments like these. Every second counted, nothing could go to waste.

You briskly step into another curtained area to see a broad, masked man on the gurney. The poor bed looked like it might strain under the weight of his bulky frame and plethora of equipment. For a moment, you can't even tell what's wrong with him. Stepping closer, the scent of fresh blood hits you just as you notice the dark wetness blooming on the upper right thigh of his gray fatigues. It looks like he’s used his own belt as a tourniquet. Your eyebrows scrunch down as you move to his side, your gloved hands automatically moving to his mask.

"Are you awake? Hey-" you're interrupted with a stiff, gloved hand gripping tightly at your wrist. Looking through the skull mask's eye sockets, you can see the whites of his half-lidded eyes starkly against his eyeblack. He's staring evenly back at you.

"I'm awake," he rumbles, low in his chest as if through water, "leave the mask." The directive is clear, even through the murk of his discomfort. You're not sure who this guy is, but from his tone he clearly expects to be obeyed. You knew there was a special operations unit active out of the base, and you can only guess that he's a part of it. Those types tended to be.. odd. This guy fit the bill.

The exchange doesn't last long though, and you immediately move down to visually assess the rest of his body as you open a new emergency medical kit. "Can you feel anywhere other than your legs that you've been injured? Have you hit your head at all?" you ask, running through regular questions since he seems to be lucid enough to give clear answers. He watches you intently, blinking slowly and almost lazily when you look at him, trauma shears in hand.

He simply shakes his head, grunting what sounds like a negative response. Great, how very helpful. You sigh as you work the shears beneath his pant leg. Without even looking up at him you slide the shears up, cutting half of his pants away to reveal the mess of both fresh and congealing blood on his thigh. Without a second thought, you cut through his briefs, pushing them aside just enough to allow him privacy as you get a better view of his injuries. The belt stays for now, it’s probably the only thing keeping him from passing out.

It's not great. He definitely needed to be seen sooner, and you're worried about exactly how much blood he's lost. Some of these wounds are deep and still bleeding. Small bits of metal are visible through the clots. You can see bruising already beginning to form on the skin around the lacerations. The hot iron scent of his blood floods your nose, thick in the air between you.

"I need help in here- I've got shrapnel, heavy blood loss and I need extra hands!" you shout to your team without looking up, busy flushing his wounds with saline to clear any loose debris. Your hands are practiced and steady, one hand deftly wiping the blood and saline as you work. The man shifts, a strained breath escaping him. You spare him a sympathetic glance, knowing this part made many uncomfortable. Why had no one tended to him? He should've been among the first.

Evidently, so is the man in the bed.

Before you can ask, your colleague steps in and immediately gloves up before getting to work with you. Together, you clean and stitch the man's wounds. He remains almost totally silent for all of it, save for the soft grunts as he's sewn back together. Even with the local anesthetic, it's still a bit uncomfortable. Throughout it all, he peers at you, his pale eyes flitting between your hands and your face as you work. At one point his gloved hands twitch at his side like he wants to move them. He doesn’t.

Your colleague quickly removes the man’s vest, knowing just as you do that there could be more injuries beneath it. The vest goes in a chair by the bed for later. The black shirt shirt he's wearing beneath it isn't torn or bloody, but you’re aware of your colleague’s intention to begin feeling for broken ribs as you get his IV drip ready.

His hands catch your colleague’s wrists with a quickness you wouldn’t have thought possible given the amount of blood he’s already lost. “That’s enough,” he hisses. Your head snaps up, and you can only see the tight narrowing of his eyes through the mask. Before you can react, your colleague jerks from his grip.

"I need to get these pants the rest of the way off, and then we're done. I'll get you cleaned up and finished for the night," you explain, falling back into your doctor mindset and practiced speech to ease the tension. He makes no response to this, so you take his silence as the go ahead. It's not like his pants were salvageable anyway.

"Are you gonna be okay in here? I have to go check on someone," your colleague asks, clearly annoyed. It wasn’t anything new to have a rude patient, but everyone’s nerves were fried after the hectic shift. You couldn’t blame them at all.

You wave them off, tired. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got him. Shouldn’t be much longer anyway.” They head off, and you turn back to the man, sighing. He’s clearly had a rough night, maybe he could use the benefit of the doubt. You were certain that you’d be a bit pissy after catching some shrapnel.

"Do you think you can get into a clean bed without ripping those stitches?" you ask tiredly as you remove your gloves. Without looking up, you move to unlace his boot. You swear you can feel him watching your fingers loosen the laces, watching your hand wrap around his ankle as you pull the boot off. His stare holds a weight in it you've never experienced before. When you look up at him, he's ready looking away.

You offer him a fresh towel for privacy as you cut his pants and briefs the rest of the way off and gingerly slide them from beneath him. They go straight in the red trash bin specifically for biohazard waste. You gingerly clean his thigh one last time and apply a thin layer of ointment to his sutures to encourage healing before you wrap his thigh in gauze. He helpfully spreads his legs enough to allow you to securely tape the gauze in place. His skin is warm, even through your gloves.

You blink once, twice, forcing the thought away as you finish up.

"I can." is all you get out of him. You sigh, it's been a long day. His boots join his vest in the chair, and you roll a clean cot into his room. This one has a thin cotton sheet and a blanket on it. You could almost swear his head is cocked, ever so slightly, with a question, and you answer it without thinking. "You're sleeping here tonight. You've lost a lot of blood and you'll need IV fluids to recover. It's not much, but it's better than that gurney."

He huffs, you can only guess he’s annoyed, but he looks the bed over. The cushioned pad was minimal at best. He would definitely feel it in the morning in addition to whatever pain arose from his stitches. “Look, I’m going to override whatever authority you think you have here. It’s safest for us to be able to watch you, just for tonight.” It’s your turn to leave him without room to argue.

For a long moment, he looks at you indignantly, like he’s not covering himself with a thin towel and your sutures aren't in his thigh. Then the tension slowly eases out of his shoulders, and he nods once.

You don't look away as he slides his legs around to the edge of the gurney, one massive hand still covering himself with the towel for decency. It's nothing you haven't seen before, and you're more concerned with whether or not he's okay to stand without support. You step closer, clearing your throat to cut the silence.

You roll an IV pole to the side of his cot and hand the fluids you’d prepared earlier on it. “Okay, last thing and then I’ll fuck off for the night, I swear,” you tell him dryly. He huffs, a short sound that’s close to a laugh, you think.

"I'm here, if you need a hand," you tell him, more confidently than you feel. Seeing him standing now you realize he's nearly a full head taller and twice as broad as you. Your hand finds his elbow, and to your surprise he doesn't tell you to back off as you help him ease into the bed.

A low, cut off groan escapes him as he sits tentatively on the edge of the bed. When he eases back to lay down, his shirt rides up just enough to hint at the bloom of a purple bruise draped over his side. His eyes are pinched shut as he slowly settles into bed.

He doesn’t get the chance to try to help himself get comfortable. “Here, just let me. I’ve got it.” You tell him quietly, batting his hands away from the sheets. You gingerly help him maneuver his legs into a comfortable position and tuck the blankets loosely around him. Another stolen glance at him tells you he’s still got that dreamy half lidded look. It’s enough for you to not exactly trust him with getting settled in bed on his own.

“I’m going to give you an IV to replace the fluids you lost and some light pain medication. Then we’re all done,” You tell him as you add more of those shitty military issue pillows to the bed. It’s the least you can do to make him comfortable. The local anesthetic won’t last him the entire night, and you’re certain the rest of his body must be sore from the aftermath of the mission.

Placing his IV goes without fuss. He's slumped back against the pillows, breathing evenly as you fill out his paperwork for his overnight check in. You'd managed to fill out most of it, but you still didn't know his name or what unit he belonged to. "Hey, what's your name and unit? I need to fill this sheet out for my records,” you ask, not even looking up.

"Ghost. One four one," each rumbling word has you bristling, your face paling. Oh hell.

"..Thank you sir." Your throat feels like it’s closing up. You don’t even bother asking for his actual name. You’d heard about a Ghost on the base, but you’d never seen him; never thought you would. It was all just rumors, something to shoot the shit about over dinner in the cafeteria.

You wanted to sink into the floor. How could you have missed the literal skull mask? The hectic rush of the day coupled with your exhaustion must have completely cleared your brain out of any irrelevant gossip, and now it was biting you in the ass. For the last half hour you’d been practically ogling him and talking to him like he was any other soldier on the base.

The rest of the shift moves by in a blur, it’s mostly paperwork and cleanup since everyone has been seen too. You luckily are not chosen to pass food out, so you’re saved the further embarrassment of having to interact with Ghost even more. With any luck tomorrow morning would be the last you two ever speak, and he could go back to being invisible to you, and you’d be saved from dying of embarrassment.

A low chuckle rolls from his chest, and your head sharply snaps up. You fight the urge to apologize and dig your hole deeper. You can feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment as you realize he’s laughing at you. You had heard rumors about his particularly efficient methods of combat and data extraction from captured enemies; some of the things you’d heard made your spine chill.

You can only smile nervously back at him and tiredly drag your hand over your eyes. You can only cling to the last vestiges of professionalism that you have left. “You’re all set here. Once things calm down someone will be by with some food for you, if you feel like eating,” you tell him, your mouth dry. He hums softly in response, and you figure the pain medication has started to take effect. “I’ll be back in the morning to check in, have a good night, sir.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost #cod #cod mw ghost #touchstarved #medical gore #slow burn #fluff #this is SOOOOO SOOOOO self indulgent and that's why it's such a slow burn lol #sorry guys like nearly nothing happened #just some *gasp* charged moments*#anyways. i've got this pretty much planned out i just gotta write the rest of the goddamn thing now #AHHHH #it'll probably get spicy who knows !#my writing

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warabidakihime · 1 year

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One More Day

★ characters: dazai x reader | fluff x smut x comfort

★ plot summary: Another day, another opportunity for you and your boyfriend, who is equally broken, to conquer the world.

★ content warnings : mentions of su!cide, can be psychologically triggering, smut.

It's three o'clock in the afternoon, and a serene silence has engulfed the whole workplace of the armed detective agency. All you can hear is the sound of fingers tapping away on the keyboard, fresh breezes passing by through the half-open window across the room, and, last but not least, Kunikida and Dazai's never-ending banter.

You're at your desk, as usual, finishing a report that Kunikida had asked you to do on his behalf as his plate is already full. He and Dazai just completed handling a very complicated case, and now you're just summarizing everything for documentation purposes, as required by the client.

They didn't exactly impose a timeframe, but knowing Kunikida, he wants to accomplish the work as quickly as possible so you can proceed on to the next one.

As you continued to type on your computer, you felt a shadow fall over you and two hands on your shoulder.

You didn't have to turn around to see who it was, so you continued on with your work without pausing.

As your lovely boyfriend proceeded to indulge you with a shoulder massage while watching you work diligently, a smile slowly dawned on your face.

“Aren't you working way too hard, Y/N-chan? If you keep up this pace, you'll become a second kunikida."

Kunikida glared at Dazai from his desk. "Shouldn't you be working? Have you finished your report?"

"Nope!" said the flamboyant investigator, to which his colleague scowled at him as a reply.

"You really should stop procrastinating, you know?" you joked, and then your boyfriend dramatically recovered his hand and placed it over his face as if he were in a theatrical play.

"Oh, Belladonna, why must you subject me to tedious labor?"

"Because it's part of your job, dumbass; did you even start?"

"Nope," Dazai said with a huge smile, to which you deadpanned.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Atsushi doing the same thing, which caused you to giggle.

"You're hopeless; I have my own pile to attend to, so I won't be able to assist you this time."

"Can you resist me, though?"

"Occasionally," you said, with a knowing smile on your face.

Dazai mimicked your smile, caressed your face, and squeezed your cheeks, one of the few mannerisms he picked up after you two started dating.

"Only occasionally, because oftentimes you can't resist me and my charms."

He's not wrong, but you're not going to admit it, or it would feed his already huge ego.

The man knows he's hot, and he knows the effect he has on people, particularly you.

"Go back to work, Osamu; if I finish my report early, I'll try to help you with yours; in the meantime, be on your best behavior at your workstation," you say, not glancing away from your laptop.

That seemed to have satiated your very needy boyfriend as he practically skipped back to his desk, but instead of behaving like you asked him to, he moved on to the next unfortunate person to bother, which is Atsushi, the newcomer.

He was the weretiger that you looked for everywhere for weeks. It was Dazai who found him. According to your boyfriend, the poor boy was kicked out by the caretakers of the orphanage he was staying at.

As someone with a similar background, you instantly felt attached to the boy and immediately took him under your care.

Dazai was initially perplexed as to why you showered so much attention on him. He is aware of your past, but it surprised him that you would be so proactive in caring for Atsushi. A little part of him is even jealous of the fact that another person has your undivided attention.

"I guess I'll let it slide," Dazai joked after seeing you hold a weeping Atsushi after the Port Mafia attacked your headquarters for the umpteenth time. He was somewhere else when it happened, so when he returned and spotted you being intimate with someone else, he was stunned to say the least.

Curiosity got the best of you when you heard Atsushi whining as your partner annoys him to no end. You then made the decision to take a glimpse at them. You couldn't help but laugh as you watched the two, since they're so entertaining to look at right now. Dazai was obviously playing the "annoying older brother," character while Atsushi was his victim of the day.

Night came, and everyone else had gone home to their respective dorms except you and Dazai. Fortunately for him, you managed to finish your report, and so here you are, instead of relaxing at home, you’re helping him with his report.

Despite being exhausted from all of your mental gymnastics today, you still have a lot of energy.

The biggest reason could be that you get to spend some alone time with your boyfriend. Though you'd go on dates regularly and you'd interact with one another at work, you cherish every moment you get to spend with him.

Even more so when it's just the two of you.

"Are you finished yet?"

"Almost."

"You can write whatever you want; Kunikida-kun won't notice."

"I mean, if you want to have your ass whooped, be my guest," you chuckled.

Dazai chuckled, and since his chin was resting nicely on your shoulder, his breath tickled you a little bit. You instinctively reached out to him and caressed his cheeks before going up to his hair, to which your golden retriever of a boyfriend leaned towards your touch.

"What do you want for dinner?" You asked him softly

"Hmm... let's just buy something from the convenience store. My treat, take it as a thank you for finishing my report."

You rolled your eyes playfully, turned to look at him momentarily, and muttered, "Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome." He replied merrily.

Time passed quickly, and before you knew it, you were through with the report. After being nearly stuck to your chair all day, you let out a whimper as you stretched from your seat. The only times you stood up were when Yosano invited everyone to Uzumaki Café for a much-needed coffee break and for your bathroom breaks.

While you were tending to your sore joints, you heard sounds of clapping. Slightly out of your mind due to fatigue, you thought an intruder had entered the ADA headquarters, but when you whipped your head to see who it was while getting into a fighting stance, you saw your idiotic boyfriend clapping as he emerged from the restroom.

You deadpanned, "What are you doing?"

"I'm giving you applause for a job well done!"

Tired of his childish jokes, you scowled at Dazai and said, "Gee, thanks. Hurry up, I want to go home and sleep."

Dazai approached you with eager, long strides and wrapped his long arms around you, his hands resting comfortably on each side of your hips.

His voice brimmed with mirth as he murmured, "If looks could kill."

As soon as he began stroking your sides with his mischievous hands, you felt yourself loosening up in his grip.

The bandage-wasting detective effortlessly unraveled your neatly tucked-in dress shirt. You closed your eyes unconsciously and smiled softly. "I thought an intruder had broken in."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, so don't scare me like that; I could have roundhouse kicked you."

Dazai dipped his head and nestled in between the juncture of your neck, making you gasp slightly. Even more so after feeling his gentle lips touch your skin in a kiss: "That could have been bad, no?"

"Yeah?" you said, mimicking his voice, to which your boyfriend replied delightfully by nibbling on your neck, knowing fully well that it's one of your sensitive spots.

And as soon as a moan erupted from your lips, a smirk dawned on Dazai's face; he was obviously satisfied with his handiwork as per usual.

"Yeah."

At this point, the detective has you caged between your desk and him, and one of his hands has shamelessly found its way under your pencil skirt, squeezing your thighs.

"Stop being a tease." You whined at your boyfriend, whose fingers continued to ghost over your underwear, to which he replied with a dark chuckle, "I thought you wanted to go home?"

"No," you replied in haste. You then grabbed his face and reeled him in for a searing kiss. "Overtime's not over yet."

"So?"

"So, what?"

"How was today?"

Despite how much time has passed, you and Dazai have not gone home yet. Instead, the two of you are sitting on top of a bridge, your legs dangling over the city river.

This is one of your routines as a couple. From time to time, you would go to this particular bridge to either kill some time or wallow in each other's deepest, darkest thoughts.

It came as such a surprise to Dazai when he heard your response to him when he first invited you to his infamous "double suicides".

He genuinely didn't expect you to ride along and actually accept his offer. And ever since then, you have caught his interest, and at first he thought it would soon pass, but as he spent more time with you, he became more enamored with you.

You were like the flame, and he was the stupid moth.

And then he learned about your story; he found himself falling deeper, and when you almost died in action, something in him snapped.

Images of Odasaku and his final moments flashed in his mind.

The thought of cradling you in his arms while you were drenched in your own blood as he failed to save you scared the living shit out of him.

Never again.

He thought to himself.

But despite being smooth with other women, he found himself stumbling stupidly in front of you. He didn't know how to act, because in a way, it was his first time pursuing someone not out of any self-serving motives but rather out of a genuine desire to win your heart and become your significant other.

And because everything was pretty much new to him, he liked the challenge, and by extension, it made him feel alive.

You basically gave him a reason to live and look forward to tomorrow.

Your boyfriend looked over the big night sky and took a heavy sigh, as if it were one of his ways of relishing the day he'd had today.

"I guess you could say the look on your face while I was fucking your mouth will stay etched in my brain for a really long time."

You snorted, "Same goes when I rode you on Kunikida-san's chair."

"That was your best performance yet."

You could only roll your eyes at your boyfriend and his silliness.

“Glad I could amuse you.”

The chilly breeze continued to howl in the distance, stroking both of your hairs.

After a moment of silence, you got to your feet on the edge of the bridge and peered down at Dazai, who was still gazing thoughtfully into the horizon.

"Is this the day, or do you wish to live one more day with me?"

The former Port Mafia executive didn't say anything; instead, he stood up and held your hand.

"Well, committing double suicide could very well be a fantastic way to end this wonderful day, but the sex was too good, so I'll have to decline your offer today."

You broke off into a melodious laugh at your boyfriend's reply.

"Who knows? Maybe we can have amazing sex in hell too?"

Dazai shook his head and pulled you off the bridge with him, and right after that, he enveloped you in another embrace.

"Maybe next time, Y/N."

You gladly returned the hug, and this time, it was your turn to dip your head into his neck and inhale his scent.

"So, one more day?" you asked him

"Yes, one more day.”

And maybe, just maybe, for all of eternity.