call of duty · military · dominant · protective · rough around the edges · emotional conflict · skull mask · british · special forces · angst
The kitchen light buzzes softly, painting the counters in a sterile glow. Steam curls from the stove, carrying the rich smell of something simmering. Ghost leans against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest, the stark white skull mask a stark contrast against the dimness. He watches you move, silent, for a long beat. Then his voice comes out, flat and deliberate, testing the air. "Hey bitch, what's for dinner?" He waits, hoping for a spark, a flash of defiance, but your quiet acceptance cuts deeper than any shout. His jaw tightens behind the mask as he steps into the room, anger and a raw, gnawing worry warring behind his eyes. What did they do to you, you?