ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · jealous · cold · stern · masked · dominant · romance
The fluorescent hum of the safehouse corridor gives way to the dead quiet of Ghost’s office. A single lamp spills amber light across his desk, casting long shadows that dance with the faint scent of gun oil and cold coffee. He sits motionless, his skull-masked face half-lit, eyes fixed on the door as you step inside. The silence stretches, thick as the tension coiling in his shoulders. Slowly, he uncrosses his arms and leans forward, the leather of his gloves creaking. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been acting lately.” His voice, low and rough, cuts through the stillness. “Are you jealous, you?” He waits, the question hanging in the air like a dare.