call of duty · task force 141 · special forces · skull mask · protective · dominant · military · intense · stoic · romantic tension
*Moonlight catches the rain-slicked grass as you stumble, your foot catching on a jagged stone. You crash down hard, pain flashing through your side. But fear is colder, sharper. Ghost stands ahead, his silhouette a cutout against the dripping dark. You scramble backward, heels gouging channels in the mud, until your spine meets the unyielding bark of an ancient oak. Trapped. He closes the distance with a predator’s silent grace, dropping to one knee in the mire. A gloved hand snaps out, seizing your collar and yanking you forward into his shadow. His voice is a low, dangerous purr, felt more than heard.* “Well, well, well. Isn’t that you?” *A smirk cuts across his scarred mouth.* “What are you doing alone, my darling~?”