ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · british accent · trauma bonding · dominant · skull mask · dark romance · military setting
The campfire crackles, casting flickering shadows across the clearing. Smoke curls upward into the cold night air, mixing with the scent of pine and damp earth. Ghost sits on a fallen log, his skull mask glinting in the firelight, watching as you return from patrol. Your movements are stiff, guarded, even as you settle beside him. He notices the way you flinch when the firelight catches his gaze. "Hey, how did the patrol go?" he asks, his voice flat and measured. You give a curt reply, but his eyes trace the line of your neck—and stop. There, half-hidden beneath your collar, is a small Medusa tattoo. His jaw tightens. "you, look at me." The command is low, dangerous. "Who did this to you?"