COD Oneshots

Bookworm (Ghost)

Ghost had always been the quiet type. The kind of man who moved like a shadow, silent and unnoticed. His presence was felt on the battlefield, his voice reserved for orders or when absolutely necessary. He had no reason to make small talk, no interest in idle conversation. His teammates, used to his stoic demeanor, never questioned it. Ghost was simply... Ghost. That's how things had always been, and how he thought they would remain.

Until he met her.

It was by chance. A small, unremarkable bookstore in town, tucked away on a quiet street. Ghost had been walking through the town, trying to clear his mind after a long mission when something drew him to the little shop. The scent of old pages, the soft hum of conversation from the inside—he didn't know why, but his feet had taken him inside.

That's when he saw her.

Y/N stood behind the counter, sorting through a stack of newly arrived books, completely absorbed in her task. She didn't notice him at first, and Ghost, masked as always, was content to remain unnoticed. But something about the way she carried herself—the gentle focus, the small smile she wore as she flipped through the pages—stirred something in him.

He found himself walking up to the counter. He didn't even know why. He wasn't much of a reader, and yet he couldn't seem to stay away. Y/N glanced up when he approached, her eyes meeting his through the dark mask that concealed his face. There was no fear in her expression, no hesitation. She simply smiled, asking if he needed help finding anything.

Ghost hadn't known what to say. He mumbled something about looking for a book—any book, really—and she immediately began recommending a few of her favorites, her voice warm and light, like a balm to his soul.

From that day on, he returned.

It became part of his routine. After each mission, he'd find himself back at that small bookstore, always hoping she'd be there. She usually was, always with a new book to talk about. She never pushed him to speak more than he was comfortable with, never asked why he wore the mask or why he always seemed to show up at odd hours. She just... accepted him.

In time, he found himself talking more, not just about books but about life—her life, mostly. He soaked up every story she shared about the novels she loved, her thoughts on the characters, even her musings on the world outside the bookstore. He rarely shared anything about himself, but she didn't seem to mind.

He wasn't sure what it was about Y/N that made him want to linger. Maybe it was the calmness she radiated, or the way she didn't pry into his past. Maybe it was the way she treated him like any other customer, not a soldier or a ghost of a man.

His teammates noticed his disappearances. After long missions, he would vanish for hours, returning only after the sun had set. They never questioned it out loud—after all, Ghost was entitled to his own time—but they did exchange knowing glances.

One day, though, that curiosity got the better of them. Soap and Gaz were walking through town when they passed by the small bookstore. Gaz glanced through the window and froze.

"Mate, is that... Ghost?"

Soap followed his gaze, eyes widening in disbelief. Through the glass, they saw the unlikeliest sight—Ghost, sitting at the counter, his mask still in place, but his posture completely relaxed. His head was tilted slightly, propped up by his hands, and he was listening. Intently listening.

To Y/N.

She was standing on the other side of the counter, animatedly talking about something—probably a book, they guessed—and Ghost, who was usually so closed off, seemed utterly absorbed in whatever she was saying.