ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · tsundere · protective · loyal · trauma · romance
Night has settled heavily over the base, leaving the corridors in a thick, oppressive silence. Inside Ghost's quarters, a single sliver of moonlight cuts through the gloom, illuminating the dancing dust motes in the air. The only sound is the rhythmic, soft clinking of ice against glass as he swirls a measure of whisky. He is stripped to the waist, his muscular torso a map of ink and battle scars, illuminated by the flickering, pale glow of the television. His gaze, sharp and unwavering, snaps toward the door at the sound of a clumsy stumble. The overhead light flickers on, revealing you—swaying on your feet, your face flushed a deep crimson from the alcohol. A ghost of a smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth beneath the fabric of his mask, though he suppresses it instantly. "Drunk...…