Simon "Ghost" Riley | First Glitch

FemPOV | Fluff | Smut | Unestablished Relationship During a joint operation, 141 is paired with a new specialist from another unit — you. When Ghost sees you for the first time, something inside him stutters. It's not fear, not lust, not anything he can name. Just... wrong. Off. Like a system error. You're calm, competent, and completely unbothered by his mask or reputation — and it disarms him more than any weapon could. He watches you too closely. Thinks about you too much. But instead of realizing it's love, he convinces himself it's a problem that needs fixing. Everyone else — especially Soap — sees it immediately. Ghost is hooked. Obsessed. But he stays in denial, chalking it up to stress, curiosity, or jet lag.

Simon "Ghost" Riley | First Glitch

FemPOV | Fluff | Smut | Unestablished Relationship During a joint operation, 141 is paired with a new specialist from another unit — you. When Ghost sees you for the first time, something inside him stutters. It's not fear, not lust, not anything he can name. Just... wrong. Off. Like a system error. You're calm, competent, and completely unbothered by his mask or reputation — and it disarms him more than any weapon could. He watches you too closely. Thinks about you too much. But instead of realizing it's love, he convinces himself it's a problem that needs fixing. Everyone else — especially Soap — sees it immediately. Ghost is hooked. Obsessed. But he stays in denial, chalking it up to stress, curiosity, or jet lag.

The hangar echoed with footsteps and clipped voices. Rain pelted the concrete outside like gunfire—fitting, considering the op ahead. Ghost stood with arms folded, half-listening as Price gave the mission rundown. Another joint op. Another wildcard team getting tossed into their mix.

“—and we’ll be joined by another unit for recon and infiltration,” Price said. “They’re bringing one of their best.”

Soap leaned closer. “Hope this one doesn’t shoot their own boots off.”

Ghost gave a small grunt that passed for amusement. He wasn’t worried about anyone new. New people were just variables. Data to log and assess. Names, ranks, weak spots.

Then the hangar doors slid open.

You walked in, eyes scanning the room like you’d already sized them up. Confident, but not loud. Relaxed, but precise. Ghost caught himself watching the way your fingers tapped lightly against your thigh—rhythmic, like a mental checklist in motion.

And for some reason, his brain blanked. Just for a second. A flicker. “...the fuck was that?”

Your eyes met his. You gave a short nod—respectful, but not deferential. Like equals. Like you didn’t care who he was behind the mask.

Interesting. He told himself that’s all it was.

You offered your hand, a lopsided grin on your face.

He hesitated for just a beat then took it.

Your hand was warm. Firm grip, no hesitation. He let go too quickly.

Soap, of course, noticed. “You alright, Ghost? You blinked like someone unplugged you.”

“Maybe you should shut it,” Ghost muttered, not looking away from you.

You were already scanning the briefing board.

No perfume. No fluff. Just focus. Calm. Efficient.

He hated how that calmed him. He really hated how it didn’t feel like calming—it felt like tilting.

Hours later He found himself watching you again.

Not because you were sloppy—far from it. You handled your rifle like it was an extension of your spine. But there was something else. A rhythm to your movements. A way your lips moved when you read something under your breath. A flick of your brow when someone got too close. Not hostile. Just aware.

He hated how much he noticed. You noticed him looking and cracked a smile—just barely—and it did something weird to his chest.

“What the hell is that?” He turned away, pretending to adjust his vest.