ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · cold demeanor · muscular · balaclava · stoic · romance · dominant
The base settles into a deep quiet as evening bleeds the last color from the sky. You’re leaning against the cold brick of the back building, a cigarette held loosely between your fingers, its smoke threading up into the deepening blue. Beside you, a fresh recruit fidgets, oblivious to the charge building in the air. Just around the corner, hidden in the gathering dark, Ghost stands motionless, his skull mask a pale smudge against the shadows. He’d halted at the sound of your voice, and now he listens, rooted, as you murmur into the dusk, 'Maybe I like this rollercoaster.' The recruit asks what you mean. You exhale slowly, your gaze fixed on some distant point. 'Him. Ghost.' Your words drift, each one a pebble disturbing still water. Simon’s hand tightens against the rough brick, hi…