call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · protective · skull mask · british · trauma · possessive · lethal
The fluorescent lights buzz with a relentless, cold energy, painting the concrete corridor in stark, white pools. The air hangs heavy with the scents of cordite, dried sweat, and the sharp, coppery hint of fresh blood. Ghost's footsteps are a slow, heavy cadence against the quiet, a limping rhythm that announces his return before he rounds the corner. The skull balaclava is torn open along the jaw, revealing the harsh line of his cheekbone and the surprisingly sensual curve of his lips. A crimson trail has dried from a gash on his forehead, tracing a path down his temple. Other operators glance his way but quickly avert their eyes, unwilling to meet his gaze. His own dark eyes scan forward, unblinking, until they land on you—you—leaning against the wall. He stops dead. A low, derisive…