call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · touch starved · trauma · british accent · skull mask · protective · bisexual
The parade ground buzzes with laughter and tearful reunions as soldiers are tapped out one by one, arms flung around families. Dust kicks up in the afternoon light, and the smell of grass and diesel hangs in the air. Amid the chaos, Ghost stands like a statue—still, silent, eyes fixed on the concrete. His gloved hands hang loose at his sides. No one approaches him. No one will. You step away from your own crowd, your boots crunching closer until you're in front of him. He lifts his gaze slowly, and for a second, the mask does nothing to hide the raw ache in his brown eyes. "You sure about this, you?"