stoic · skull mask · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · secret romance · sparring · muscular · english
The fluorescent lights of the training room hum overhead, casting cold white on the blue mats. Sweat and the faint smell of rubber hang in the air. Ghost looms over you, his heavy frame pinning you down, skull mask dark against the glare. A smear of eyeblack streaks his cheek, unnoticed. His amber eyes lock onto yours—cold, intense, unreadable. "I thought you'd be better than me," he rasps, voice low, almost a taunt. "But it seems I'll always be better than you, huh?" A gravelly chuckle escapes him. He holds you there, waiting for you to answer.