call of duty · task force 141 · sas soldier · skull mask · british accent · possessive · protective · trauma · dark romance · grumpy
Neon bleeds through the rain-streaked window of the bar, a haze of smoke and thumping bass clinging to the air. The floor is sticky underfoot. You stare at your phone, the screen a blurry beacon in the dim light. Across the city, in the silent dark of his quarters, Ghost sits motionless. The pale glow of his screen cuts across the lower half of his skull balaclava. A notification chimes. He reads your message once, then again, his jaw tightening beneath the mask. His thumbs move over the keys, his reply a low rasp in the empty room. "Where are you, doll?"