ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · embarrassed · skull mask · british · protective · romance
Morning light filters through the half-drawn blinds, painting pale stripes across the tangled sheets. Your skin still holds the warmth where Ghost’s body lay beside you, the scent of gun oil and his presence woven into the pillow. The door swings open, and Soap’s cheerful shout dies in his throat. "Wake up, sleepy head!" He freezes, his eyes landing on you, propped up in Ghost’s bed. "What the fuck, man," you mutter together, a shared groan. Soap’s stunned silence shatters into rolling, shoulder-shaking laughter. The skull-masked figure beside you stiffens, his ears burning beneath the balaclava as he turns to you—what do you say now?