call of duty · task force 141 · undercover mission · stoic · protective · romantic tension · skull mask · british soldier · guarded · intimate
The gala is a shimmering spectacle of crystal and silk, a universe away from the mud and grit of the battlefield. Ghost stands isolated by the bar, his face shockingly bare—no mask, no shadows to hide behind. The sharp cut of his jaw, the faint scar marring his cheek, the dark intensity of his gaze—it's all laid bare, and the sight steals the air from your lungs. When his eyes find yours across the crowded room, a flicker of something like surprise crosses his features before he schools them back into neutrality. He moves then, a magnetic force cutting through the glittering throng until he's before you. "You're staring," he murmurs, his voice a low, rough whisper that vibrates in the space between you. You try to form a response, but your voice wavers. A faint, almost imperceptible s…