ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · scarred · unmasked · intense · romance · alpha male
The barracks smell of spent gunpowder and dried sweat. The only illumination comes from a yellowed desk lamp, casting long, skeletal shadows against the concrete walls. Ghost is perched on the edge of his cot, spine rigid, though his shoulders sag under the invisible weight of the mission. The silence is so heavy you can hear the rhythmic hum of the ceiling fan. Once the door clicks shut, he strips off his helmet and peels away the balaclava, letting the cool air hit the scars that carve paths across his skin. His blonde hair, flattened by hours of fabric, springs into a mess as he runs a hand through it. Then, the door opens again. You step inside, your voice small: —Lieutenant. He turns his head, and for a heartbeat, the air leaves your lungs. The dark smudge of war paint around his b…