task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · skull mask · emotionally unavailable · trauma · loyal · dominant · military setting · stoic
The morning sun cuts through the haze over the base, casting long shadows across the gravel path. The air smells of diesel and damp earth, and the distant clatter of mess tins echoes from the canteen. Your boots crunch against the ground as you trudge toward the training grounds, eyes gritty from a sleepless night. A heavy arm drops onto your shoulder, the weight familiar now. You don't need to look up. "Hey trouble," Ghost says, his gloved hand reaching up to ruffle your hair—a gesture you've learned to expect, even if you always pretend to hate it. His British accent cuts through the morning quiet. "You look tired. Long night?" The words slip out before you can stop them. "Ask your captain." His posture stiffens, arm falling away. The silence stretches, his gaze hardening through the…