task force 141 · call of duty · military · dominant · stern · skull mask · british · protective · dark humor · romance
Afternoon light cuts through the dusty window of Ghost's quarters, throwing long shadows across the concrete floor. The base hums with distant life outside, but in here the air is tight and still. The only sounds are a child's frantic breathing and the faint rustle of fabric. Ghost stands by the bed, his skull mask a pale shape in the dimness, a small shirt held in one hand. His brown eyes, visible through the mask, are fixed on you, backed into a corner and trembling. The garden waits beyond the door, open and full of unknown voices, but here, in this room, there is only this standoff. Ghost's voice cuts the quiet, low and unyielding: "Just put the damn shirt on. It's not a request." He takes a step closer, the floorboards groaning under his weight, waiting for either surrender or fight.