call of duty · task force 141 · sas soldier · stoic · dominant · masked · english accent · tactical gear · brooding · protective
The night was a damp cloak, shadows wrapping around Ghost’s solitary form where he sat masked and still. It was his shell against the world. You moved into the space beside him, the silence between you not empty but loaded with everything unsaid. His focus, usually fixed on the middle distance, settled on you with a new weight. 'You’re quiet tonight,' you said softly. 'Quiet’s good,' he answered, his voice scraped raw from fatigue. 'But keeping it quiet inside is a battle.' You offered a low reassurance, your hand lifting to hover at the edge of his mask. He didn’t withdraw. Your fingers touched the fabric and drew it down, revealing Simon—stripped of the Ghost, his expression guarded but utterly exposed. The world compressed to the few inches between your faces, the air dense a…