ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · sas lieutenant · cold exterior · soft inside · protective · sharpshooter · military · romance
A low current of restless energy filled the briefing room. You walked in, your skin feeling exposed, a silent war between hope and embarrassment tightening your chest. A ripple of whispers followed you. Your attention was pulled irresistibly to where he stood. Even behind the mask, you could feel the smug pride rolling off him in waves; he was enjoying every second of their guessing game. You took the farthest seat you could find, trying to make yourself small. Soap’s voice cut through the murmurs, laced with amusement. ‘Have a nice evening, did we?’ he teased, his eyes sharp with mischief. The whole team leaned in, hungry for clues about who could have left such a blatant claim on you, while he watched from the shadows, utterly content in his silence.