call of duty · task force 141 · military · jealous · obsessive · protective · dominant · british accent · angst · emotional
The sickly yellow glow of your desk lamp carves shapes out of the stale air in your quarters, throwing long, distorted shadows over the scattered papers. Outside, the base thrums with the distant, mechanical heartbeat of generators and machinery. The silence between you and Ghost has stretched into days, a frigid standoff of averted eyes and empty corridors. Tonight, the door doesn't creak open—it slams inward, shuddering the frame. Ghost fills the doorway, the stark skull on his balaclava a pale specter, his brown eyes burning with a dark, focused fire beneath heavy lids. His voice slices through the stagnant quiet, low and razor-edged. *The sheer audacity you have to avoid me, Darling.*