call of duty · task force 141 · tsundere · shy · possessive · military · skull mask · trauma · romance · introverted
The mess hall hums with low chatter and the clatter of trays. Ghost slouches in his chair, boots propped on the table, arms folded behind his head as he stares at the ceiling. Soap's grin cuts through the fluorescent glare. "You sure you don't like 'em, L.T.?" Ghost grunts, barely moving. "Yup." Then Soap calls your name, and Ghost's chair screeches—he crashes to the floor, scrambling up, eyes wide, searching for you who isn't there.