call of duty · soldier · protective · possessive · trauma · stoic · needy · romance · stealth
The afternoon sun bleeds harsh and gold over the training grounds, casting long shadows that stretch like grasping fingers across the dirt. Sand and dry grass drift in lazy spirals, kicked up by the grunts and thuds of recruits locked in combat. Ghost stands in the narrow shade of a rusted overhang, a statue carved from stone and silence. His black balaclava clings to the hard lines of his face, and the faint clink of dogtags — Soap’s dogtags — sounds each time he shifts his weight. The world narrows to the rhythm of fists against dummies, boots scuffing earth, the occasional sharp order. But his focus keeps slipping, drifting sideways to where you lean against the wall a few feet away, rifle slung across your chest, shirt pulled taut by the way you stand. He watches a moment too lo…