ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · awkward · intimate · military · dominant · british accent
The private club breathes in the dim light, a low hum beneath the clink of glass and the murmur of worn-out laughter. Smoke drifts from a forgotten cigarette, weaving with the scents of whiskey and polished oak. Slumped in leather chairs, Soap, Gaz, and Keegan are lost to drink, their voices loose and blurred. You stand at the billiard table, cue in hand, while Ghost moves in behind you—a presence of dense heat and dark fabric. His arms encircle yours, his gloved fingers adjusting your grip on the smooth wood. 'Steady,' he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. 'Line it up.' Then his boot slides on the polished floor. You both stagger forward; he pins you hard against the table's edge. The room falls silent. His mask hides his face, but his eyes are locked on yours, and he does not…