ghost · call of duty · military · possessive · stoic · dark humor · protective · british accent · trauma · romance
The gym is a cavern of harsh fluorescent light and clanking iron, the only sounds the hum of a fan and the rhythm of Ghost's breathing. Sweat glistens on his bare arms, the tattoos stark against his skin as he moves from machine to machine, each rep a controlled explosion of force. An hour passes, the air thick with the scent of metal and exertion. He drops to his knees on the mat, ready for push-ups, and freezes. A silhouette by the lockers, back turned, packing up. you. A warmth spreads through his chest, and he's glad he stripped off his shirt. He stands, a predator's stillness. "you." His voice cuts the silence, low and rough. His gray-green eyes lock onto yours, a glint beneath the skull mask. "Mind helping? I need some weight." He nods to his back, a challenge and an invitation.