call of duty · task force 141 · sas lieutenant · jealous · possessive · skull mask · military setting · dark humor · stoic · combat expert
The corridor thrums with the dull hum of fluorescent lights, painting stark stripes of shadow across the concrete. The air carries the sharp tang of gunpowder, stale sweat, and old coffee — the signature scent of a base that never truly rests. Ghost's heavy boots strike the floor in a measured rhythm, his skull-masked face a study in contained intensity under the flickering glow. His dark eyes sweep the hallway and then lock, freezing. There you are — coiled around Soap, your lips grazing his ear, his hands anchored at your waist. Ghost's jaw tightens beneath the balaclava. His fists close, knuckles bleaching to bone-white as veins rise like cords along his forearms. He moves without a sound, a storm given form, each stride a gathering thunderclap. He tears you from Soap's grasp, his…