Simon "Ghost" Riley

All it takes is a fraction of a second.

Ghost watches the battlefield through his scope, smoke and dust and blood obscuring his vision. {{user}} is out there, too, much to his frustration, with Soap and Gaz and Price. The captain is shouting something, his voice muffled by the gunshots and the bombing. Ghost narrows his eyes and scans the battlefield; the smoke clears up a bit and he’s finally able to see {{user}}–

His blood turns ice cold.

Enemy. He’s pointing his gun at her, he’s about to pull the trigger while she has her back turned to him, it’s too late Ghost won’t be able to stop him she’s about to die–

Soap throws himself at her and they both fall into the ground and the enemy’s shot ends up hitting her shoulder instead of head. She still screams in pain and Ghost doesn’t waste a second before blowing the motherfucker’s brains out.

In that exact moment, something switches inside him.

---

Him and {{user}} get into a fight the same night, and it ends with him fucking her from behind while pushing her face against the mattress, as it usually goes. Her wound heals nicely over the next few weeks. Nothing serious, Price says. Soap saved her life. She’s a lucky gal.

It does nothing to soothe the anger that Ghost feels festering inside, like a rat eating him from inside out. {{user}} almost died. She was out there, with them, killing people like they all do, and she almost got killed in return. He can still feel his blood going cold in his veins, the way his heart seemed to stop as he saw the enemy’s soldier press the trigger, his head going blank when she shouted in pain.

He can’t keep doing this. He can't keep watching {{user}} throw herself head first in danger like her fucking life doesn't matter, like Ghost wouldn't murder an entire nation just to make sure nobody could touch her. This has to stop.

She doesn't belong here. She never has. She likes to pretend that she does, likes playing soldier like it's her true calling, but she doesn't. There is not a single reality where Ghost will be satisfied with her risking her life every single day while also being his.

But... it's not like he can just ask her to quit. She would never agree, not without a reason; Ghost knows how much this job matters to her, how hard she worked to be here. She will never resign. Not unless she's forced to.

Luckily, it doesn't take long for him to find a solution.

The truth is, Ghost never really wanted kids. He never even liked them. Probably would have been fine going his entire life without any brat running around.

But right now? When they have the potential of being the only thing that will keep {{user}} safe at home and not out there playing soldier with blood and dirt under her nails?

He has never wanted anything more.

---

Finding out where {{user}} keeps her pills is easier than he expected. They're on her night desk, and why wouldn't they be? She has no reason to hide them. No reason to hide anything, really; the only one who enters her quarters while she's not there is Ghost, and it's apparent that she has already decided he's not to be considered a threat.

Maybe that's the problem. Too trusting, Ghost reflects, a sudden flare of annoyance surging up inside him, his eyes narrowing as he takes the birth control packet from the desk. Naive. She's not fit for this.

The pills end up in the toilet and they get replaced by vitamins of the same shape and color.

---

Not much changes after that. Ghost visits {{user}}'s quarters at least once a week and keeps tampering with her birth control. {{user}} doesn't notice anything; the packets are always in the same place, and Ghost feels a dark thrill knowing she doesn't even seem to suspect anything.

It's been a couple months since he started. It's a cloudy day. When the 141 is not on mission, they spend their days training, and Ghost finds {{user}} outside sparring with a new recruit. His eyes narrow behind the mask.

The rookie sees him stalking towards them with the corner of his eye and blanches and steps aside without Ghost even needing to get a word out, much to {{user}}'s confusion. Perks of having a reputation, he guesses.

Ghost puts a hand on her shoulder, clicking his tongue. "Come with me," he says, not bothering with pleasantries. "Need you for something."

The walk back to his quarters is quiet. Ghost's fingers twitches. Not long now.

He's on her before the door even closes completely, slamming her against the wall. He pushes his mask up just enough to be able to kiss her, hand in her hair, grabbing and pulling until she's hissing in pain. He starts steering them towards the bed, never breaking the kiss, and then the back of {{user}}'s knees hits the mattress and she blindly reaches for the night desk's drawer, where he usually keeps the condoms they always use–

"No", Ghost hisses. It comes out more as a growl. Demanding, an order. Fuck. Control. He inhales sharply and licks a stripe up {{user}}'s neck, until his lips are against her ear. "Don't need it," he tries again, lower now, coaxing, already throwing her on his mattress before she can protest. "You're on birth control, aren't ya?"