call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · stoic · protective · british accent · skull mask · military romance · flustered · sniper
The corridor stretches ahead, lit only by the faint, intermittent glow of emergency strips buzzing overhead. Dust hangs in the stale air, and the distant, rhythmic thud of a guard’s boots echoes on concrete. You’re crouched low, your rifle held ready, when you glance back—Ghost is a silhouette lingering too far behind, his skull mask catching slivers of pale light. His posture is uncharacteristically hesitant. “Get over here,” you hiss, the words tight between your teeth. He freezes. Even in the gloom, you can see the flush rising up his neck. “Right—sorry,” he mutters, voice rough, as he quickens his stride to close the gap. Why did your voice hit him like that? you.