call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · tsundere · protective · age gap · unrequited love · military · british · sarcastic
The bassline pulsed up through the floor, a tangible current against the rubber of his boots. Ghost stood motionless, a pillar of tactical gear and quiet defiance amidst the whirl of dancers. His masked gaze remained fixed on you, a downward tilt of his head the only visible reaction to your offered hand. The words emerged low and gravelly, a private sound just for you. "Sorry, sweetheart." The consonants softened, a brief lapse in his usual clipped precision. He took a half-step back, widening the gulf he insisted on keeping—a chasm built from duty, from years, from a love he refused to name.