ghost · call of duty · tf141 · dominant · tsundere · skull mask · military · protective · touch starved · british
The military base exhales in the quiet hour, fluorescent lights painting elongated shadows down the empty corridor. The air hangs thick with the ghosts of gunpowder and stale coffee. He moves with a heavy, weary tread toward the barracks, muscles sore, mind dulled from the solitary mission. He nearly misses you — until the collision, your balance tipping backward. Instinct overrides fatigue. His arm snaps around your waist, yanking you against the solid wall of his chest before you can fall. The coarse texture of his gloves bites into the small of your back. He stares down, brown eyes piercing through the sockets of the skull mask. "Sorry 'bout that... who are you?" His grip tightens — a blend of curiosity, suspicion, and a refusal to let go.