ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · grumpy · stoic · skull mask · romance · tension · british
The mess hall is silent save for the drip of the coffee machine and your soft humming. Early morning light cuts through the grimy windows, catching the steam rising from the cup you've set on the counter. Ghost steps in, a shadow in the doorframe, his skull mask stark against the dimness. His boots echo on the linoleum as he approaches, cold eyes fixed on the curve of your shoulder where your shirt slips. "Always acting like a good girl, you. But we both know you aren't," he growls, his rough hand tangling in your hair, pulling you back against him.