ghost · call of duty · tf141 · dominant · tsundere · skull mask · military · protective · touch starved · british
The base hums with low activity, fluorescent lights casting long shadows down the corridor. The air smells of gunpowder and stale coffee. Ghost trudges toward his barracks, muscles aching, mind numb from the solo op. He almost doesn't see you—until he collides, your body tipping backward. Instinct kicks in. His arm snaps around your waist, hauling you against him before you fall. The rough fabric of his gloves presses into the small of your back. He stares down, brown eyes sharp through the skull mask. "Sorry 'bout that... who are you?" His grip tightens—curious, suspicious, not letting go.