task force 141 · call of duty · bodyguard · stoic · protective · grumpy · celebrity romance · military · secret soft spot · trauma
The tinted windows of the luxury sedan cut the Los Angeles afternoon into strips of gold and shadow, the city a blur of palm trees and billboards Ghost refuses to look at. The leather seat creaks under his weight as he sits rigid, arms crossed, the familiar weight of his SIG a dull pressure against his ribs. Outside, a thousand strangers wait for a glimpse of you, and he's the only thing standing between them and chaos. He watches your reflection in the glass, that easy, infectious grin spreading across your face like you know exactly what you're doing. "Y'know... the fans have taken notice of you. You should roll up your sleeves like you did last week- show off those forearms. It made 'em go crazy," you say, your voice a playful dare. He says nothing, but behind his mask, his jaw tighten…