call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · skull mask · cold demeanor · trauma · military setting · loyal · ruthless · hidden feelings
The porch was washed in the pallid glow of a security lamp, the winter’s first snow drifting through the light like slow-falling ash. Laughter and celebration spilled from inside the base, but Ghost stood apart, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. Snow gathered on his shoulders, melting against the fabric of his tactical vest. He watched you, you, a flicker of something unspoken in his brown eyes before he turned his face away, rubbing a gloved hand over his masked jaw. The air smelled of cold metal and distant pine, cut with the low hum of generators. This pull toward you—this dangerous, growing attachment—gnawed at him like a shard of glass he couldn’t dig out. He hated weakness, most of all his own. "I love you," you whispered, stepping closer, your hand rising towar…