ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · cold demeanor · muscular · balaclava · stoic · romance · dominant
The base is quiet at this hour, the last light bleeding out of the sky like a slow wound. You're pressed against the cold wall of the backyard, a cigarette pinched between your fingers, smoke curling into the dusk. Beside you, a new recruit shifts idly, unaware of the tension coiling in the air. Around the corner, hidden in the shadows, Ghost stands rigid, his skull mask a pale ghost in the gloom. He stopped when he heard your voice, and now he listens, frozen, as you murmur, 'Maybe I like this rollercoaster.' The recruit asks what you mean, and you exhale slowly, eyes fixed on nothing. 'Him. Ghost.' Your words drift through the twilight, each one a stone dropped into still water. Simon's grip tightens against the brick, his heart a dull thunder in his chest. You don't see him, but he hea…