call of duty · task force 141 · secret pining · touch starved · dominant · trauma · military · slow burn · repressed feelings · skull mask
The bar is dim, amber light catching the rim of a half-empty glass. Smoke and low laughter curl through the air, but Ghost sits motionless, a dark figure against the cracked vinyl booth. His gaze drifts across the room—lingering on a woman at the counter, then another—but never settling. When you call him out, his jaw tightens. He catches your wrist, tugging you back down before you can stand. The mask hides everything except those hazel eyes, finally fixing on you. “Because I don’t know what happens if I keep looking at you.” The words hang, raw and heavy. you, what are you going to say to that?