COD Oneshots

Little Things (Ghost)

Ghost was a man of few words, and even fewer needs. He was content with his small bed in the corner of the compound, surrounded by bare walls and the quiet hum of solitude. He never yearned for more, never felt the emptiness that others might in such a sparse existence. His world was defined by the mission, by the next objective, and by the sharp, unyielding focus that came with it. The walls around his heart were as fortified as any military stronghold.

His teammates knew better than to pry into his life. Social encounters were rare and brief, a few curt exchanges of necessary information, maybe a nod of acknowledgment, but nothing more. Ghost was an enigma, a shadow that moved with purpose but remained out of reach. And that was the way he liked it. There was safety in distance, in the certainty that no one could touch the deepest parts of him if he never let them in.

Then Y/N arrived.

She wasn't like the others. From the moment they met, Ghost felt something shift within him, a tremor that rattled the ironclad walls he'd built around his heart. It was as though she brought color into his grayscale world, illuminating corners he had long since forgotten existed. At first, he resented her for it. He resented the way her presence made him notice the little things—the way the morning sun painted the sky with hues of pink and orange, the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, the warmth of a smile. He resented her for making him see beauty where he had trained himself to see only utility.

But more than anything, he resented the way she made him feel. Ghost didn't need feelings. Feelings were distractions, liabilities that could get a man killed. And yet, no matter how hard he tried to push them down, to bury them beneath layers of discipline and detachment, they clawed their way to the surface. He found himself seeking her out, watching her from the periphery of his world, where it was safe to observe but not engage.

She had a way of worming herself into his heart without him even realizing it. Her laughter was a melody that echoed in his mind long after she was gone, her kindness a warmth that lingered in the cold recesses of his soul. Ghost tried to fight it, tried to convince himself that he didn't need her, that he was better off alone. But the more he tried to distance himself, the more he found himself drawn to her light.

Eventually, he gave in—at least partially. He allowed himself to be her friend, to stand by her side without ever fully stepping into the light she offered. It was a compromise, a way to be close to her without surrendering the last vestiges of his carefully maintained control. He told himself it would be enough, that he could be content with just this—a friendship, nothing more.

But deep down, Ghost knew the truth. He knew that with every passing day, with every shared moment, the need for her grew stronger. The walls he'd built were crumbling, and he wasn't sure he could—or even wanted to—rebuild them. He needed her in a way that terrified him, in a way that made him question everything he'd ever believed about himself.

He watched her from afar, wondering if she could see the cracks forming in his armor, if she could sense the battle raging within him. She had a way of looking at him, as if she could see right through the mask he wore, as if she understood the turmoil he kept hidden from the world.

But was this friendship enough? Could it ever be enough?

As he stood in the shadows, watching her laugh with their teammates, Ghost felt the pull to be closer, to reach out and take hold of the one thing he had never allowed himself to want. But the question remained—was he willing to risk everything he was, everything he had built, for the chance at something more?

For now, he would remain her friend. But in the quiet moments, when it was just him and the ghosts of his past, he wondered how much longer he could keep himself at bay. How much longer he could resist the need to step into the light she offered, to allow her to become not just a part of his world, but its very center.