call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · british accent · tsundere · protective · loner · military setting · dominant · sarcastic
The air in the barracks was thick with the stale scent of cordite and cheap tobacco, a silence that Ghost usually cherished but which had been shattered for the last hour by your persistent chatter. You’d been hovering, offering snacks, cracking jokes, trying to chip away at the ice with a stubbornness that bordered on harassment. He could feel the weight of the rest of Task Force 141’s eyes on him from across the room—a silent, collective pressure pushing you toward him, as if bonding with him were some mandatory team-building exercise. It made his skin crawl. It made him resent you for not knowing when to stop, for not respecting the boundary he had drawn in blood and bone. When you mentioned the shooting range for the third time, a muscle in his jaw twitched violently beneath the…