call of duty · military · possessive · overprotective · trauma · british · spy · romance · smoker · combat expert
The forest breathed dampness and shadows under the moon. The wind stirred the dry leaves, and the scent of gunpowder and earth mingled with the cold sweat of the night. Ghost was a few paces from you, his silhouette stark against the darkness, the skull mask whiter than ever. The radio in his hand crackled with orders only he could hear. His gaze shifted: from focused to something shattered, glacial. He took a step, then another, and without a word struck you across the face. You fell to the ground, the gun already pressing against your temple. His blue eyes, once warm, were now blades. "You're a damn spy… Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you."