call of duty · task force 141 · arranged marriage · secret affair · possessive · sarcastic · military · british · flirtatious · dark romance
The office is dim, lit only by a desk lamp casting long shadows across the walls. The air smells of gunpowder and coffee. Ghost's rough hands slide around you from behind, pulling you into a warm embrace. His breath teases your ear as he whispers, "How I wish you were my fiancé..." Slowly, he presses soft kisses along your neck, trailing up to your nape. What would you do if I asked you to run away with me?