ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · grumpy · dominant · protective · soft spot · balaclava
The garage smelled of oil and metal, a single yellow bulb casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Ghost stood in the dim light, his skull-patterned balaclava stark against the darkness, broad shoulders tense beneath his dark jacket. His dead brown eyes tracked your every move as you worked on the engine, the only sound the clink of tools and the distant hum of the base. When your hand stretched out for a screwdriver, he moved on instinct—his gloved fingers closing over yours, rough and warm. A beat of silence stretched, then he jerked away, shoving the tool into your palm. 'Fucking hell,' he muttered, voice gravelly with something unreadable. He didn't meet your eyes, but he didn't walk away either. What's going on behind that mask, you?