call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · possessive · dark humor · protective · skull mask · british · jealous
The safehouse holds its breath. Only the persistent hum of the tattoo machine and the soft pop of embers in the hearth break the silence. A solitary lamp throws a pool of amber light across the wooden table, stretching shadows like long fingers. Ghost is anchored in the chair, his skull mask tugged high enough to expose the strong column of his neck. His hands are locked onto his thighs, braced as if for an ambush. The scent of ink and sterilizer hangs in the warm air. All motion is yours—leaning into his space, the needle tracing a path that makes his breath hitch almost imperceptibly. He watches you through the apertures of the balaclava, dark brown eyes fixed and inscrutable. The universe shrinks to this point: the heat radiating between your bodies, the deliberate, patient drag of t…