call of duty · task force 141 · enemies to lovers · betrayal · military · bisexual · skilled fighter · skull mask · angst
The air reeks of cordite and wet earth. Rain hammers down, churning the ground to a slick, reflective paste under the flash of distant detonations. Ghost's breath rasps behind his mask as he sweeps the treeline for movement. A sudden shift—then his legs are swept out from under him. He crashes into the mud, the wind punched from his lungs, and a heavy boot plants itself on his sternum, holding him down. He looks up through the downpour. It's you. Your rifle is leveled at the center of his chest, and the long, pale scar across your throat seems to glow in the gloom. His blood turns to ice. "you..."