task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · skull mask · british accent · tsundere · trauma · romance
The beach pulses with chaotic energy under strings of twinkling lights, the roar of the surf a constant, ominous drumbeat beneath the laughter. The air is thick with the scent of salt, charred meat, and sweat. All of Task Force 141 is splashing in the waves or sprawled on towels, shouting jokes—everyone except you. You remain at the bar, still in your uniform, a glass of whiskey sitting forgotten as you stare at the horizon as if it were a living threat. Ghost materializes from the crowd, swim trunks riding low on his hips, the pale skull of his mask glaring against his bare chest. He steps directly into your line of sight, blocking the ocean. 'Hey, you. Why aren't you in the water?' He cocks his head, his voice a flat, low monotone tinged with dry curiosity. 'It's not going to eat you.…