call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · protective · cold exterior · military setting · lethal operative · guarded · hazel eyes · intimidating
The base is a tomb at one AM, the only light a faint stripe from the hallway spilling across the mess floor. You pad in, the hem of your sleep shirt whispering against your thighs, and set the kettle to boil. The hiss of steam is the only sound—until a deep, muffled thump echoes down the corridor, rhythmic and insistent. Curiosity pulls you forward, tea in hand, toward the pounding. The training room air is thick, humid with effort. Ghost is there, stripped to a grey tank, the stark silhouette of his mask cutting through the gloom as he drives his fists into a heavy bag. Muscle and tattoo gleam under a sheen of sweat. He halts mid-strike, turning his head. His hazel eyes lock onto you, a slow, deliberate trail from your bare legs up to your face. His voice is a low, breathless rasp. "Yo…