cod x reader oneshots

a machine - ghost

Crazy. Psychotic. Cold. A machine, a killing machine.

There were many ways to describe her. She was ruthless. Her heart scorched one too many times. Seen too much to the point she was changed. New recruits to the base never approached her. Too scared to attempt contact and dreading any interaction they needed to have with her.

There was no emotion behind her eyes, and if she ever felt anything she wouldn't show it. She knew how to do her job, and she would do whatever it took to get the results she wanted. Years of military training were drilled into her head and it showed.

She truly was the best of the best. The perfect soldier.

Ghost watched her on the plane. The 141 knew that this would be a difficult mission. They very well could have been fed bad intel which could result in all of them dying. But the possibility of getting the information they were after was too important. It was worth the risk. They all knew that.

Soap was cracking jokes with Gaz, the pair genuinely trying to lighten the mood. Price had his eyes closed as he leaned back against the rumbling wall, but every now and then his mouth would twitch into a smile, indicating that he was listening and enjoying the lighthearted antics.

They had been chosen for the 141 because they were the best. They put everything into their missions, and there was nothing that would stop them. Even the jokes and laughter wouldn't stop them from doing their job.

She blinked slowly, looking up at Ghost. For a moment they just stared at each other. They seemed to search each other for any sign of fear. None was shown.

She took a deep breath. Ghost watched as her chest slowly rose and fell. He wondered if that was the only thing that kept her from being an actual machine. Breathing lungs and a beating heart.

He admired her dedication to the task force. Her ability to perform under pressure. He respected her capability to do the things they do without letting it affect her.

He was interested in her.

Everything about her seemed to make him more curious. She was a puzzle he desperately needed to put together. He needed her.

He would always cover her. Always had her back in the field and protected her. He had no doubts in her qualifications, but he couldn't help his unconscious lean towards her. His initial reaction would always be to take out those who posed a threat to her.

He trusted her, which didn't come easy to him. He trusted her judgments. He trusted her actions.

And though he trusted her, she often made choices that landed her in deep waters. Maybe she had a death wish. Maybe she deemed dying in battle as an honorable death. Maybe she believed that her life was the perfect sacrifice for her teammates and the mission.

He didn't know. He had his suspicions, but he didn't know.

And because of that, there were many times when after a mission he found himself yelling at her. How could she do what she had done? How could she not be afraid of dying? Sure, they all knew that there was a high likelihood that none of them would live to see old age, but to just not care? Missions were important, and their lives were at risk every time they suited up, but they were also important. No other team could pull off the tasks that they took on.

She blinked at him once more. He knew that in her own way, she was meditating. She was preparing herself for the mission in her own way, just like they all did.

He wondered what she was thinking. He wanted her to talk to him, tell him how she felt. He wanted to let the words fall from his mouth, to apologize.

They hadn't spoken to each other in a couple of days. Their last mission was intense, one of the hardest they'd ever been through. She had been ruthless and reckless and that angered him. When they had gotten back to the base he ripped her a new one. Yelled and screamed at her.