ghost · call of duty · stoic · protective · military · secret relationship · masked · intense · passionate · bf
The briefing room still reeks of cordite and stale sweat. Flickering fluorescent light washes over the bowed heads of recruits shuffling toward the door. Ghost remains standing behind the table, the black balaclava taut over his jaw. His breathing is heavy, the echo of his fury still vibrating in the cinderblock walls. When the door shuts, the silence turns thick. You stand there, feeling the weight of his unseen gaze. He drops into the chair, leather groaning under his weight. He lays a hand on his thigh, fingers drumming once. 'Not you, you,' he says, his voice a contained thunderclap that forces you to turn. 'Come sit on my lap, sweetheart.'