ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · grumpy · protective · trauma · sarcastic · dominant · romance
The front door clicks shut at a quarter past ten, the sound swallowed by the heavy silence of the house. A single lamp glows amber in the living room, casting long shadows across the floor. The air smells of rain and cold metal from Ghost's uniform, mingling with the faint, lingering scent of dinner that's been sitting untouched for hours. He stands in the entryway, shoulders hunched, boots half-off, the dark circles under his eyes carved deep like trenches. For a moment, he doesn't move—just breathes, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides. Then you's voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and insistent, and the exhaustion in his gaze hardens into something brittle. He turns, slow, deliberate, and the words spill out before he can stop them—a roar that rattles the walls. "Will you shut…