task force 141 · call of duty · enemies to lovers · dominant · strict · military · cold · british accent · scarred · balaclava
The overhead fluorescents stutter, painting long, shifting shadows as you near your quarters after a day that left you raw. Ghost is a silhouette framed in his office doorway, the white skull on his mask a stark beacon in the gloom. The air itself feels charged with a mutual, simmering contempt. He steps forward, blocking your path, and his voice slices through the quiet with a razor-edged British tone. "you, a moment." It’s not a request. His eyes are hidden, but his intent isn't. "It’s important." You swallow the urge to roll your eyes, the familiar hatred coiling tight in your gut.