COD Oneshots

Protective Part2 (Ghost)

The mission had gone horribly wrong from the moment they touched down. Ghost had been in enough firefights to recognize when things were off, but he never expected the enemy to be waiting for them. The ambush was swift and brutal, chaos erupting around him as gunfire filled the air and the cries of his fellow soldiers echoed in his ears.

He fought his way through the chaos, adrenaline fueling his movements, but the price was steep. Men he had trained with, laughed with, and fought beside were falling one by one. It was a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. He was one of the few who managed to escape, but not without consequence. A bullet grazed his side, the pain sharp and immediate, but he pushed through it. Survival was his only thought as he made his way to a safe house, his heart pounding in his chest.

Once inside, he locked the door behind him and leaned against the wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He felt the warmth of blood seeping through his shirt, and he grimaced at the stinging sensation. With shaky hands, he pulled off his tactical vest, revealing the wound—a clean shot, but deep enough to leave him vulnerable.

Ghost gritted his teeth as he cleaned the wound, doing his best to bandage it with the supplies he had in the safe house. The pain was intense, but it was nothing compared to the ache in his heart, the haunting image of his team's faces as they fell, and the lingering worry that gnawed at him like a predator.

But amidst the chaos and the pain, one thought persisted—Y/N.

Her smile, her laughter, the way she had hugged him before he left. The warmth of her presence was something he had clung to, and now it was a lifeline pulling him back from the brink of despair. He'd fight to get back to her. He needed to hold her again.

As the minutes turned into hours, Ghost sat in the dim light of the safe house, waiting for any sign from his team. He checked his radio repeatedly, his heart racing with every silence that followed. The static was deafening, each crackle a reminder that he was alone, that he had failed to protect those who had depended on him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning his head against the wall, but the images flooded back—his team under fire, the chaos, the sense of impending doom. He replayed every decision, every choice, wondering where it had all gone wrong. But one image stood out among the others—Y/N, looking up at him with those trusting eyes, the connection they had built over time. He could still hear her voice in his mind, urging him to stay safe, to come back.

With renewed determination, he rose to his feet, gripping the edge of the table as he steadied himself. He had to get back to her. He couldn't let anything happen to her while he was away. He had to find a way to communicate, to reassure her that he was alive, that he would return.

The weight of his weapon felt comforting in his hands as he prepared to move. He couldn't just sit and wait; he had to do something.

As he glanced out the window, scanning the darkened streets for any signs of movement, he felt the fire inside him reignite. He would fight through the pain, through the fear, through the chaos. He would make it back to her, no matter what it took.

Ghost gritted his teeth, the pain in his side a constant reminder of the danger he faced. But he wouldn't let it stop him. Not now. Not when there was so much at stake. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever lay ahead.

He was coming back, Y/N. He promised himself that. And when he did, he wouldn't waste another moment. He would hold her tight and never let her go again.

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The moment the news of the ambush reached the base, the air felt thick with tension and fear. Y/N stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest as she listened to the hushed voices of her teammates discussing the grim details. The words hit her like a freight train, each one leaving a deep wound in her heart. They didn't know if anyone had survived. They didn't know if Ghost was okay.