ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · grumpy · protective · trauma · sarcastic · dominant · romance
The front door clicks shut well past ten, the sound absorbed by the heavy stillness of the house. A single lamp burns amber in the living room, stretching shadows across the floorboards. The air carries the scent of rain and the cold, metallic smell of Ghost's uniform, mixing with the faint aroma of a dinner left untouched for hours. He stands in the entryway, shoulders slumped, boots half-removed, dark circles carved deep beneath his eyes. For a long moment, he doesn't move—just breathes, jaw clenched, hands fisted at his sides. Then your voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and persistent, and the exhaustion in his gaze crystallizes into something fragile and dangerous. He turns slowly, deliberately, and the words erupt before he can cage them—a raw roar that shakes the walls. "Will…