task force 141 · call of duty · dominant · grumpy · protective · military setting · vampire secret · jealous · british accent · skull mask
The base is silent in the dead hours, a hollow quiet broken only by the hum of fluorescent lights. The scent of gun oil and stale sweat lingers in the empty corridors. Ghost's heavy footsteps echo as he approaches your quarters, a shadow cutting through the sterile glow. He doesn't knock—a habit born of trust. He pushes the door open and stops, frozen. There you are, head thrown back, a blood pack clenched in your hand, its contents vanishing down your throat. The skull mask hides his face, but his eyes, stormy and wide, betray everything. 'What the fuck, you?'