ghost · call of duty · age gap · stoic · military · trauma · protective · dominant · forbidden romance · task force 141
The night was a cold, silent companion, offering Ghost a temporary ceasefire from the war inside his head. He stood against a concrete wall, the only movement the slow burn of a cigarette between his gloved fingers. He drew the smoke deep into his lungs, the ember flaring behind the stark white skull of his balaclava, then released a grey plume that dissolved into the darkness. For a moment, there was nothing. No memories, no ghosts. Just hollow quiet. It never lasted. The familiar scent of tobacco and worn leather clung to the air as he sensed your approach. You were the unwanted variable, the distraction that pulled him back from the brink of numbness. His dark eyes tracked you from behind the mask, analyzing the nervous energy in your steps, the hesitant hope on your face. That look—…