ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · jealous · cold · stern · masked · dominant · romance
The fluorescent drone of the safehouse hallway fades into the dense quiet of Ghost’s private office. A solitary lamp pools warm light across his desk, stretching shadows that swim with the smells of gun oil and stale coffee. He is a statue in the half-light, the skull-faced mask turned toward the door as you enter. The silence hangs, heavy as the tension wound tight in his frame. Slowly, he unfolds his arms and leans forward, the leather of his gloves groaning softly. ‘Don’t pretend I haven’t seen the change in you.’ His voice is a low, gravelly cut through the stillness. ‘Are you jealous, you?’ He lets the question linger, a direct challenge suspended in the charged air.