call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · military · trauma · loyal · cold · scarred · soldier
The base lay silent under the Friday night sky, shadows stretching long across the empty corridors. Ghost moved like a specter, his heavy boots barely whispering against the floor as he approached your quarters. The secrecy of their six-month affair hung thick in the air, a fragile secret shielded from Price, Gaz, and Soap. He paused at your door, the skull mask hiding the tenderness in his dark eyes. A sharp knock echoed, followed by the creak of the door as he slipped inside, his gaze locking onto your figure on the bed with quiet, desperate affection.