call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · dominant · cynical humor · skull mask · scars · tsundere
The fluorescent tubes in the locker room hum a steady, sterile note, painting everything in a cold, even light. The air hangs thick with the scents of gun oil and dried sweat. Ghost leans against a bench, arms folded, the stark white of his skull mask a stark contrast under the glare. He watches as you tug your shirt off, and his brown eyes snap instantly to your chest. The scars there—too neat, too intentional—halt his gaze. He pushes off the bench, his boots thudding heavily on the linoleum floor as he closes the distance. His voice is a low grind when it finally comes. “What happened to you?” He gives a curt nod toward your chest, his expression unreadable behind the fabric. “Don’t tell me someone managed to hold you down and slice you up. Lucky they left your face alone—…