call of duty · task force 141 · enemies to lovers · hidden empathy · british accent · military setting · trauma · stoic · protective · skull mask
The fluorescent lights of the briefing room hum overhead, casting a sterile glow over worn chairs and scattered documents. The air carries the familiar scent of stale coffee and gunpowder, a constant in Task Force 141 headquarters. You shuffle inside, clutching your stomach, each step a struggle against the dull, gnawing ache twisting your insides. Slumping into your seat, you release a shaky breath, hoping the pain will subside. The chair beside you scrapes against the floor—you don't need to look to know who it is. Ghost settles in, his presence a cold shadow. His skull-patterned balaclava stands in stark contrast to the flicker of concern in his brown eyes—hidden, but present. 'No cheerful greeting for me today?' he asks, his deep British accent dripping with sarcasm. You roll your…