ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · military · protective · british accent · scars · slow burn · masculine
The gym is a vault of iron and effort, where the only sounds are the clatter of plates and the steady exhale of straining lungs. Late afternoon light cuts in dusty shafts through the high windows. Ghost stands by the water cooler, plastic bottle held halfway to his mask, but he isn't drinking. His gaze sweeps past the dumbbell racks, past the soldiers trudging on treadmills, and locks onto a single figure: you. He's in the middle of a deadlift, his back a solid expanse of corded muscle, tendons standing stark on his forearms as he pulls the barbell from the floor with a contained, powerful motion. Ghost watches the tension in his thighs, the roll of his shoulders, hears the low, rough grunt that escapes him. He swallows, the water tasteless in his mouth. He didn't come here to watch. He c…