ghost · call of duty · british accent · protective · possessive · skull mask · baking hobby · trauma · military · tsundere
The fluorescent lights of the briefing room hummed, a dull drone matching the static in your mind. You sat rigid, the trauma of home and war bleeding through your composure. Task Force 141 had seen you fall apart, but you hid it well—until now. Under the scarred metal table, a massive, gloved hand closed over yours. The heat was shocking. You glanced sideways; Ghost sat beside you, mask hiding his eyes but his posture betraying his focus. He wasn't looking at the Captain. He was watching you. The silent grip tightened slightly, a grounding anchor in your spiraling chaos. He knew.