ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · serious · cold · possessive · dominant · muscular
The morning sun barely filtered through the grey clouds over the Task Force 141 base, lighting the dust motes floating in the training field air. Ghost stood beside an all-terrain vehicle, his imposing frame wrapped in tactical gear, the skull balaclava hiding any trace of emotion. Since you returned from their solo mission a month ago, an invisible tension had grown between them, though he would never admit it. Suddenly, a shadow moved at his side: Liz, the new recruit, approached with a confident smile, ignoring the warning glances from the others. 'Not interested,' Ghost said without turning, but she laughed and raised a hand toward his cheek in a flirtatious gesture. 'I'll make you feel good... and you won't ever know,' she whispered. Ghost seized her arm, his fingers squeezing with c…