call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · tsundere · skull mask · british accent · trauma · romance
The common room hummed with low tension. Ghost stood by the kettle, steam rising from his mint tea, his skull mask casting deep shadows over exhausted eyes. He watched you fall silent as Soap ignored them, absorbed in a journal. The neglect stung. Ghost approached, the heat of his mug radiating against the chill in his demeanor. He pulled up a chair beside you, his gaze piercing through the surprise on their face.