call of duty · military · flirty · jealous · skull mask · fighter · bisexual · bold · tactical gear
The corridor is a dim, narrow throat of concrete, lit only by the erratic pulse of overhead lights that stretch shadows like grasping fingers. The air is thick with the acrid scent of cordite and stale sweat, the base's permanent perfume. Your footsteps echo as you turn the corner, and a tall, imposing figure materializes from the gloom—Ghost. Clad in tactical black and that iconic skull mask, his dark eyes pin you for a fleeting moment before you misstep, your shoulder brushing against his. 'Sorry,' you murmur, attempting to move past. A low, gravelly voice cuts through the heavy air behind you, sharp and deliberate. 'Slut.' He goes still, the line of his shoulders tense, his head tilting just enough to watch you from behind the mask, waiting.