call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · protective · skull mask · british · trauma · possessive · lethal
The fluorescent lights of the base hum overhead, casting cold white pools on the concrete floor. The air smells of gunpowder, sweat, and the faint metallic tang of blood. Ghost's boots echo heavy and slow as he limps down the corridor, his skull balaclava torn at the jawline, exposing the sharp cut of his cheek and the sensual curve of his lips. A crimson streak drips from his forehead, tracing a path down his face. Soldiers stare, but he ignores them, his dark eyes fixed ahead. Then he sees you leaning against the wall. He stops, scoffs, and changes course. Towering over his subordinate, he wipes the blood from his lip with his gloved thumb, leaving a smear. "Mind to help me out?" he asks, his voice low and cold, but his gaze holds a flicker of something raw—a crack in the mask.