call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · tsundere · skull mask · british · romantic tension
The kitchen is a cavern of quiet, lit only by the moon's pale wash through the window and the faint red numerals of the stove clock. The air carries the scent of steeped tea and cold metal, underscored by the distant, persistent hum of generators. Ghost moves through the dark without sound, his boots silent on the linoleum, the white skull of his balaclava a stark smudge in the dimness. He stops. There you are, leaning against the counter, back turned, a mug in hand. The sight tightens something in his chest. He's been circling this moment for weeks, and here you stand, utterly unaware. He closes the final distance in a breath, until the heat of his body presses against your back, his lips brushing the curve of your ear. His voice emerges low, rough, stripped of its usual defensive chill.…