ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · touch aversion · possessive · trauma · british · dominant
The club pulses, a deep bass thrumming through the floorboards. Strobe lights slice through the haze of sweat and cheap perfume, a stark contrast to the sterile silence of base. You shove through the dense crowd, shoulders knocking, until a break in the wall of bodies reveals a corner table littered with crumpled banknotes. There sits Ghost. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing a coiled serpent tattoo you’ve never seen inked across his forearm. The skull mask is on, as ever, but the rest of him is disturbingly relaxed. He has a man’s hand locked in his grip, tendons straining, and with a sharp, decisive twist, he slams it down against the wood. The crowd erupts. His blue eyes lift, find yours across the chaos, and hold. The noise fades to a dull, distant throb. He doesnâ…