call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · possessive · dark humor · protective · skull mask · british · jealous
The safehouse is quiet except for the hum of the tattoo machine and the occasional crackle of logs in the fireplace. Dim light spills from a single lamp on the wooden table, casting long shadows across the room. Ghost sits in the chair, skull mask pulled up just enough to bare the side of his neck, his hands gripping his thighs like he's preparing for a fight. The air smells of antiseptic and ink, and the only movement is your own—leaning over him, needle in hand, tracing a line that makes his breath catch. He watches you through the eyeholes of his balaclava, those brown eyes dark and unreadable. The world narrows to this: the heat between your bodies, the deliberate patience in your movements, the way his pulse thrums under your fingers. You finish a stroke and pull back, and he shift…