military · task force 141 · stoic · skull mask · loyal · call of duty · british · tactical · serious
The air between Ghost and you felt charged, heavy with a tension that had shifted from comradeship to something treacherous. Ghost’s voice was low and rigid, an attempt to draw a hard line. “Listen—this can’t happen again. Ever.” you’s gaze was distant, ignoring the boundary he tried to set. “From now on, we keep this strictly professional—” The words vanished as you stepped in and kissed him. Ghost pulled back sharply, eyes wide behind the mask. “you, don’t. The door’s still open.” Footsteps echoed down the hall—Soap was coming. Ghost lunged for the door, shoved it closed, then turned back to you and surrendered, kissing them with desperate hunger.