COD Oneshots

Broody?(Ghost)

Y/N was still adjusting to life in Task Force 141. She had proven herself in the field, no doubt about that, but the team itself was a different challenge altogether. Price was like a gruff but fair father figure, Soap was the easygoing older brother, and Gaz was always ready with a joke or advice when she needed it.

Then there was Ghost.

Ghost was... an enigma. He didn't talk much, and when he did, it was straight to the point. No unnecessary words, no wasted breath. His presence was intimidating enough with that skull mask, but what truly made him hard to read was the way he kept everyone at arm's length. Y/N wasn't sure if it was just her or if he was like that with everyone, but it bugged her.

So, naturally, she made it her mission to crack him.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting mission, she found herself sitting beside him in the common area. It started small—a comment here, a joke there—but eventually, she just started talking. About anything and everything. Missions, past experiences, random thoughts, even the time she accidentally called Price "Dad" on comms.

Ghost didn't say much, but he didn't leave either. He just sat there, occasionally nodding, sometimes shifting as if debating whether to walk away. But he never did.

Two hours later, when her voice was finally starting to go hoarse, she let out a sigh.

"...And that's why I'll never trust vending machines again," she finished, looking over at him expectantly.

Ghost's response? A grunt. A low, noncommittal sound before he stood up and walked away without a word.

Y/N blinked.

"What the hell does that even mean?" she muttered under her breath.

Frustrated, she stomped off to find Roach, who was lounging on his bunk, scrolling through his phone. The moment she saw him, she groaned dramatically and flopped down beside him.

"Roach, I don't get Ghost," she whined. "I talked his damn ear off for two hours, and all I got was a grunt before he left. He probably hates me."

Roach paused, looked at her, and then burst out laughing.

Y/N scowled. "Why are you laughing? This is serious!"

"That's not hate, Y/N," Roach said, shaking his head with a smirk. "If he didn't like you, he would've left five minutes in. Hell, he wouldn't have even sat down in the first place."

She opened her mouth to argue but stopped short. That... actually made a lot of sense.

"...Oh."

"Yeah. Oh," Roach teased, nudging her with his elbow. "Congrats, you've officially done the impossible—Ghost actually tolerates you."

A slow smile spread across her face. Maybe she wasn't as hopeless at understanding Ghost as she thought.

Maybe, just maybe, she was starting to get somewhere with him after all.

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A few weeks later, Y/N found herself in the middle of another mission, adrenaline pumping as the team moved through hostile territory. The op had gone sideways, as they often did, and in the chaos, she had taken a hit—nothing fatal, but deep enough to make every step feel like fire.

But the last thing she wanted was to slow the team down. So she grit her teeth, pressed a hand against the wound, and kept moving.

By the time they reached the extraction point, she was starting to feel lightheaded. The throbbing pain had dulled to a steady ache, but she could feel the warmth of blood soaking into her gear.