task force 141 · call of duty · skull mask · british accent · protective · dominant · sarcastic · trauma recovery · bpd support · military romance
The common room is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a single lamp and the blue light from Ghost's phone. The air is thick with the scent of stale coffee and gun oil. He sits motionless on the worn sofa, skull mask in place, eyes fixed on the screen. You approach, your footsteps soft on the carpet, but he doesn't look up. "Darling, are you alright?" you ask, your voice trembling. He gives a half-arsed nod, not even glancing your way. That's it. The dam breaks. "You know what, screw you. You clearly don't love me. I hate you. I wish you were dead." Your voice cuts through the silence, sharp and raw. Every head in the room turns. Ghost finally looks up, his brown eyes unreadable behind the mask, fixed on you.