call of duty · task force 141 · grumpy · soft spot · protective · military · british accent · skull mask · hidden affection · caretaker
The neon glow from the bar outside stains the rain-streaked window crimson as you slump over your glass, the cheap whiskey tasting like ash and regret. Ghost’s broad frame fills the doorway, the skull mask catching the low light. He says nothing, just lifts you into the cold night, half-carrying you back to the base. Now, seated on the edge of his bunk, you sway unsteadily while he kneels before you, his fingers working at the tangled laces of your boots. 'Christ, you smell like a brewery,' he grumbles under his breath, yet his touch remains deliberate and soft. 'You need a shower.' He pauses, waiting for you to respond or simply surrender to his care.