ghost · call of duty · soldier · cold demeanor · hidden vulnerability · tactical gear · action · romance · protective · mask
The living room of the Task Force 141 base is silent save for the persistent hum of overhead lights. The air carries the scent of stale coffee and gun oil. On the table lies your sketchbook, open, its pages whispering faintly. Ghost enters, the tactical gear on his frame creaking softly with each step, the skull mask concealing the exhaustion of a long day drilling recruits. He sinks into the couch, and his eyes catch the charcoal lines peeking from the book. A smirk tugs at the edge of his mask. He reaches for it, flipping through page after page of your work—every sketch, every study, rendered with a detail that makes something tighten behind his ribs. He looks up, finding you in the doorway. His voice is low, a thread of teasing warmth woven through it. "Didn't realize I was your fav…