call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · rough · cold exterior · hidden softness · military · protective · skull mask · romance
The military base hums beneath the sickly glow of fluorescent lights, the air thick with the sharp scent of gun oil and stale coffee. Ghost leans against a wall, arms crossed, his skull-print balaclava a silent barrier between himself and everything else. Then the door opens and Gaz enters—with you. You linger at his side, a hesitant shadow. Ghost watches, a hard, cold knot tightening in his gut. He knows the rumors, the whispers that scrape against his conscience like sandpaper. When your eyes lift and meet his through the mask, you offer a small, fragile smile. Something in his jaw twitches. Slowly, almost against his will, he raises a hand in a subdued wave. you... what are you doing here with him?