Call Of Duty x Reader ||Open Requests||

Ghost x Reader (Fluff Pt. 1)

In the chill of the night, the weary and tired SAS soldier trudged down the halls of the base. The dim lights of the corridor were only bright enough so he could see just barely where he was going. He knows exactly where his room is even if he were to walk in the dark. His heavy boots shuffled softly along the floor, trying not to allow them to squeak as he walks past several closed doors on the way to his room.

He pauses for a moment, deciding whether he should check on the person in that room but he shakes his head and thinks better of it. 

Just before he goes across the hall to his door, a sudden, piercing scream shattered the stillness of the night, jolting him from his half-awake state. Ghost's exhaustion vanished instantly as he snapped to attention, his senses sharpened, and he turned toward the source of the bone chilling cry.

"AHHH!" You sit bolt upright in your bed as you screamed yourself awake. Your heart was pounding and your head was aching as you rubbed your temples and tried to calm your breathing. With a glance at the clock on your bedside table, you roll your eyes at the time. 3:00 am. 

 "Dammit..." You groan and breathe heavily still. 

As you try to catch your breath from your nightmare, you hear a knock on your door. Ghost, his senses sharp, immediately picked up on the distress echoing from the room. His gloved hand rapped gently on the door, the sound muffled but firm. 

"Y/n," he called in a calm yet concerned tone, his voice cutting through the aftermath of your nightmare. You'd never heard his voice sound so concerned in all of your three years you'd been working with him. The only thing you ever heard from that man was snarky comments or nothing at all. That's how he communicated. "Everything alright in there?"

In the dimly lit hallway, Ghost's silhouette stood attentive, his mind racing through possible scenarios. The late hour and the abrupt scream had stirred a sense of urgency in him, overriding the weariness that clung to him moments ago. He knocks on the door lightly, thinking maybe it wasn't even her and that she was asleep - that nothing had happened and he had imagined it.

You wipe the sweat from your brow and call out to the voice on the other side of the door. 

"Uh yeah... I uh... I'm okay..." With a few more deep breaths, you get out of your bed and go to the door to see Ghost standing there motionless, yet still ready to knock on the door again had you not opened it already, "Oh... Hey, Ghost. What are you doing up so late..." 

You glance down the hall and back to him, studying his eyes behind the balaclava with a skull on it. You hadn't expected anyone to be up, though it was completely by chance that your brain had sent you into fight or flight mode upon making those nightmarish events play through your head. Your eyes seemingly stare into his soul as you both stand there and wait for the other to say something. Anything.

This nightmare though, was where he'd had to kill you because the rest of the team suspected that you were a traitor. The memory of the nightmare jars you from your thoughts and you take a step back, away from Ghost when you realize just how close he is to stepping into your room. It's not that you're scared of him, it's just that you're scared of the memory that the nightmare gave to you.

"I... I'm sorry if I woke you."  

Ghost nodded, his piercing blue eyes meeting yours through the darkness. 

"Just happened to be passing by," he replied, a subtle edge of concern in his voice. The lines etched on his mask softened as he studied you, a silent acknowledgment of the vulnerability that lingered beneath the tough exterior. "No need to apologize." 

Ghost reassured her, noting the unease in her movements. His eyes held a depth of understanding, as if he could sense the weight of the dream she'd just escaped. He tilts his head as he studies your face some more, wondering if you would lie to him or if you would tell him the truth. 

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, the concern evident in his tone as he crosses his arms and shifts his weight to his other foot. You watch him and shrug as you answer.

"Heh... Do you want the truth or do you want me to lie and tell you I am okay so you can go to bed?" You try to joke but it comes out in a more insulting tone. "I- I'm kidding. I'm okay, really. It was just a nightmare, Ghostie. I'll be okay... maybe." 

You motion him inside, "If you wanna come in and hang out for a bit, then that's cool. I can make some tea for us if you like..." 

You smile and rub the back of your neck, nervous that he might catch onto your lie, he's quick at that sometimes. Especially with the enemy. You definitely are not fine but him being there and listening - not hurting you - made you feel a bit safer. 

Ghost smirked at your attempt at humor, appreciating the effort despite the tension in the air. 

"Well, I'm not one to turn down a late-night tea party," he quipped, stepping into the room at your invitation. The door closed behind him, shutting out the eerie glow of the hallway. As you mentioned making tea, he chuckled and shook his head. 

"Tea, huh? Hope you're better with a kettle than with jokes." He shot you a playful wink, his way of attempting to lighten the mood. "But seriously, I'll make the tea. You just relax a bit, alright?" 

Ghost moved towards the small kitchenette, his movements deliberate yet agile, a blend of military precision and a certain easy grace.

Your eyes brightened only a smidgen as you followed behind him and shook your head, "Hey that's highly offensive there, L.T., but yeah, I like it better when you make it anyways. You're the brit."

You smirk as you pretends to make yourself look busy as the quip falls from your lips and you try not to laugh.