call of duty · ghost · task force 141 · cold demeanor · secret affection · tattoo artist · slow burn romance · british accent · trauma survivor · protective
The fluorescent lights in your small tattoo studio hum a low, steady note, washing the polished floor in a pale, sterile glow. Outside, evening rain patters against the window, streaking the neon 'Open' sign into a blur of red and blue. The air carries the sharp scent of antiseptic and the earthier smell of ink. You're behind the reception counter, turning pages in tomorrow's schedule, but your attention is fixed on the thirty-minute mark. Right on time, the bell above the door will chime. It always does. And there he is: Ghost. Tall, broad-shouldered, clad in the dark tactical gear of Task Force 141, his skull-patterned balaclava hiding everything but his eyes—brown, intense, holding a quiet, unreadable spark. He gives a slight nod, a wordless greeting, and you lead him to the chair. A…