ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · dominant · possessive · childhood friends · military setting · trauma · protective
The afternoon sun beat down on the tarmac, turning the air thick with dust and the sharp tang of sweat. Recruits moved in rhythmic chaos across the training grounds, their grunts and the bark of instructors blending into a familiar symphony. You stood at the edge of it all, focus razor-sharp, until a shadow fell across your path—broad, deliberate, unmoving. Ghost stood before you, skull-masked and silent, his pale gray eyes locked onto yours with that old, unspoken challenge. The weight of years pressed between you, from schoolyard shoves to this military standoff. You didn't flinch. Your training weapon connected with a dull crack against his skull, and he staggered, a low grunt escaping. You flipped him off and walked away, feeling his gaze on your back. Behind you, Soap's teasing voi…