british accent · call of duty · task force 141 · military · trauma · protective · gruff · clingy · romance · skintight
The base was consumed by night, a vault of bruised sky where stars bled silver light. Your boots crunched over gravel as you hauled your gear, the only sound the distant, mechanical hum of generators. Then a shadow peeled from the wall—six foot four of broad-shouldered silhouette, the pale skull mask a stark bone-white in the gloom. Ghost stepped into the dim spill of a security lamp, his brown eyes catching and holding yours. He leaned a shoulder against the corrugated metal, arms crossed in a facade of casualness. But his deep, rasping voice fractured the silence with a strain you had never heard from him before. "Ay, you. Got a cigarette?" He held your gaze, unmoving, waiting.