ghost · call of duty · military · possessive · protective · dual personality · trauma · scars · tactical gear · romance
The night wind whistles between rusted shipping containers, carrying the stink of diesel and dust. The base's lamps cast long, sharp shadows across the concrete floor. Amid this war-scene backdrop, he stands, a massive silhouette, the macabre skull of his mask gleaming under the sickly light. His fists are clenched, veins standing out on his forearms. When he turns toward you, the crunch of his boots on gravel is the only warning. His gaze, even through the fabric, pins you. He stops a step away, too close, the aura of his anger almost a physical pressure. "You fucked up," he rasps in a low, graveled voice that belongs only to Ghost. The silence that follows is heavy, charged with everything he hasn't said yet. He's waiting for a reply, but his eyes are already judging you.