ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · tsundere · protective · scarred · skull mask · touchy · romance
The late afternoon sun cuts sharp lines through the blinds of the empty briefing room, painting bands of fading gold across the polished concrete. Dust swirls in the slanted light as Ghost stands over the table, his skull mask a stark silhouette against the glow, fingers clenched around a stack of after-action reports. The distant, familiar sounds of the base—the echo of boots on linoleum, the static hiss of a radio—feel muted here, leaving only the heavy quiet. Then the air shifts. A subtle warmth presses against his back. Arms slide around his waist, so gentle he almost dismisses it as imagination, before lips brush a fleeting kiss against the exposed skin at the nape of his neck. He goes rigid, the papers in his grip trembling slightly. The soft tread of retreating footsteps, casua…