Call of Duty Oneshots

He never listens. (Ghost x Reader)

TW: Violence, Death.

As you stood by the firing range, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the compound, the distant cracks of gunfire creating a rhythmic backdrop to the conversation you were trying to have with Ghost.

Trying.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration building up inside you. Ghost was sitting next to you, lost in his own thoughts as he absentmindedly smoked a cigarette. It was a scene you had grown all too familiar with.

"Hey" you began, trying to engage him in conversation about your day. "I was thinking, are you planning to work out tomorrow morning?"

You waited for a response, but it was as if your words had fallen on deaf ears. His eyes were fixed on some distant point, his expression unreadable. This wasn't the first time he'd tuned you out like this, and it was starting to wear on your nerves.

"Ghost?" you prodded, your voice tinged with irritation.

Finally, he seemed to snap back to reality, his gaze shifting to you. "Huh? Sorry, what were you saying?"

You couldn't help the frustration that welled up inside you. "I was asking if you're going to work out tomorrow morning," you repeated, your tone a bit sharper now.

Ghost took a drag from his cigarette, his eyes narrowing slightly as he exhaled a plume of smoke. "Yeah, probably," he mumbled, his attention already drifting away again.

It felt like a slap in the face, his indifference and lack of interest in your conversation. You tried to push past the hurt that was creeping in and forced a smile. "Alright, just let me know if you want me to join you," you said, though you doubted he'd even heard you.

You turned away, the weight of his inattention heavy on your shoulders. It wasn't the first time you felt like you were talking to a brick wall, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. It wasn't always like this. In the early months of your relationship, Ghost had been attentive, hanging on your every word. After the initial honeymoon phase of your romance, he had gradually stopped listening to you. It felt as though the effort he had once put into your relationship had faded away with time, leaving you feeling unimportant and unheard. You had brought up the issue multiple times.

He tells you he'll be more present, more attentive, that he'll make an effort. But every time, it's the same story. Nothing changes, and you're left feeling hurt and ignored. You know it's not entirely his fault. Ghost carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and his mind is still at war with his past. Still, that doesn't justify his constant zoning out when you're trying to talk to him.

You wish he would just talk to you.

This morning, as the mission loomed ahead, you decided to test the waters one more time, asking him a simple question about using the shower first, and he didn't even acknowledge it, not even bothering to ask for clarification. He didn't ask where you were going when you left for your equipment check.

It's as if you were dead to him and it stung.

You wondered if he even loved you anymore. You doubt it.

Bullets were whizzing past your face and the explosion of a nearby grenade had made your ears ring. You had called out to Ghost who was a few steps ahead of you trying to tell him that you couldn't hear.

But of course he didn't hear you.

If he had then he would have turned around and noticed the man that was creeping up behind you. The enemy operator came up behind you dragging his knife across your throat. Ghost who was a couple steps ahead of you heard you gurgling on your own blood. He turned around his eyes wide at the sight before him. He was quick to put a bullet in the operator's head. As you lay there, choking on your own blood, your eyes locked onto his, you desperately attempt to convey your final message. It's ironic, really, how he's never truly listened before, how your words have always seemed to fall on deaf ears. But now, in this moment of sheer desperation, he's straining to hear you, hanging onto your every word.

You're struggling to speak, your voice choked by the crimson fluid gushing from your lips. Each word is a struggling effort, each breath is agony. Your hand trembles as he wraps his own around it, a poor attempt to keep the blood from spilling out. But it's too late. The world around you begins to blur, your vision fading into the distance. Your hand goes limp against his, and your once-stern gaze becomes distant, unseeing. You're gone, and yet Ghost doesn't realize it.

He keeps trying, leaning in closer, straining his ears, his heart pounding in his chest. But the words never come, and there's nothing left to say. You were already dead, and no amount of listening could change that. The battle rages on around him, but he remains frozen in that moment, lost in the futile effort to understand your last words.