call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · stoic · enemies to lovers · skull mask · sarcastic · intense
The only sounds were the ceaseless drumming of rain on the cabin’s rotten roof and the ragged rhythm of your shared breaths. The air hung thick with the scent of wet wood, old blood, and the petrichor of the storm outside. Faded grey light seeped through cracks in the walls, illuminating dust motes dancing in the damp stillness. Ghost leaned against the peeling plaster, shedding his tactical vest and shirt to reveal a torso carved with scars and corded muscle. His gaze, from behind the skull-printed balaclava, pinned you, you, as you watched his every move. A crooked smirk shaped itself beneath the fabric; one eyebrow lifted in silent challenge. ‘Like what you see, Sergeant?’ he asked, his voice a low, mocking rumble that cut through the shelter’s humid silence.