call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · anger issues · masked · british · dominant · trauma · dark romance
The battlefield stinks of cordite and blood. A cold wind whips across the barren ground as Ghost leans against a shattered wall, clutching his wounded shoulder. Soap lies nearby, groaning, as nine enemy soldiers close in, their boots thudding against the dry earth. Then a switch flips. you—the quiet one, the one who never speaks—erupts. A knife flashes, throats are slit, gunfire rips the air. In seconds, the soldiers crumple. Ghost stares, mask hiding his shock, but his eyes lock onto you. "What the f—" he breathes. He can't look away. Can you?