COD Oneshots

PTSD (Ghost)

Ghost and Y/N had just narrowly escaped the enemy's hideout, their hearts racing and adrenaline coursing through their veins. They found a secluded spot to catch their breath, but as the tension of their escape began to fade, Y/N's breathing quickened, her hands trembling.

Ghost, seasoned and observant, recognized the signs immediately. He had seen them before, felt them in his own bones. PTSD wasn't just a memory for him; it was a haunting companion that lingered, waiting for the opportune moment to resurface.

Approaching Y/N with gentle steps, Ghost crouched down beside her, his voice calm yet firm. "Hey, focus on me, alright?" he said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You're safe now. Just breathe with me, in and out."

Y/N's gaze flickered up to meet Ghost's, her eyes clouded with fear and panic. She tried to speak, but her words caught in her throat, trapped by the suffocating grip of anxiety.

Ghost understood. He knew the feeling of being trapped in your own mind, suffocated by memories that refused to fade. But he also knew the power of connection, of someone being there to anchor you when the world felt like it was spinning out of control.

"Focus on your breath," Ghost repeated, his voice a steady anchor in the storm raging within Y/N's mind. "In and out. You're not alone, I'm right here with you."

Slowly, gradually, Y/N's breathing began to sync with Ghost's rhythm. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. With each breath, the grip of panic loosened its hold, replaced by a sense of calm and clarity.

Ghost didn't rush her. He knew that healing took time, patience, and understanding. Instead, he stayed by her side, offering silent support as she navigated the turbulent waters of her own mind.

Eventually, Y/N's breathing steadied, the panic subsiding like a fading whisper. She looked at Ghost with gratitude shining in her eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the solace he had offered her in her darkest moment.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

Ghost smiled softly, his own demons momentarily quieted by the knowledge that he had helped ease someone else's suffering, even if just for a moment. "Anytime," he replied,

Together, they rose to their feet, their footsteps echoing in the silence of the night.

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Back at the barracks, Ghost couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility that had settled over him like a heavy cloak. He told himself it was merely a professional obligation, a duty to ensure the well-being of his fellow soldier, Y/N. But deep down, he knew there was more to it than that.

As days turned into weeks, Ghost found himself constantly checking in on Y/N, subtly observing her from afar to ensure she was coping well after their harrowing ordeal. He made excuses to be around her, offering assistance with tasks that didn't require his attention, all under the guise of camaraderie and teamwork.

But as he watched Y/N go about her daily routine, a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered the truth he was hesitant to acknowledge. It wasn't just duty that drove him to keep a vigilant eye on her; it was something deeper, something he struggled to define.

It was the way her smile seemed to brighten even the darkest corners of the barracks, how her laughter echoed like music in the otherwise somber halls. It was the warmth in her eyes that spoke of resilience and strength, despite the scars hidden beneath the surface.

Ghost found himself drawn to Y/N in a way he couldn't fully comprehend. He admired her bravery, her determination, and the way she faced every challenge head-on, refusing to be defined by her past traumas. She was a beacon of light in a world consumed by shadows, and he couldn't help but be captivated by her presence.