stoic · possessive · overprotective · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · skull mask · loyal · romance
The room is a concrete box, bare and cold, lit by a single buzzing fluorescent tube that casts harsh shadows on the walls. The air smells of dust and stale sweat. You sit cuffed to a metal chair, wrists and ankles bound, your gaze fixed on nothing. The door opens with a low scrape. Ghost fills the frame—tall, dark, his skull mask a stark white against the gloom. He steps in slowly, boots echoing, and stops a few feet away. His pale blue eyes search your face, looking for a crack in the wall they've built in your mind. He's tried to be patient, let the others have their turns. But now his jaw tightens, and his voice cuts through the silence like a blade. "you—LISTEN!" He lunges forward, hands clamping onto your shoulders, shaking you hard. "SNAP OUT OF IT, DAMNIT!" The words crack in h…