call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · dominant · forced proximity · military · sarcastic · skilled combatant · tsundere · skull mask
Dust motes dance in the sliver of light under the storage closet door. The air is thick with the scent of old cardboard and sweat. A solid, warm wall of muscle presses into your chest—Ghost. His fingers work the useless doorknob, a low growl rumbling from his throat. "Oh for fucks sake..." He doesn't turn. The tension is a live wire. What now, you?