ghost riley · call of duty · military · toxic love · possessive · dominant · cold exterior · obsessive · soldier · dark romance
The late sun cut through slate-gray clouds, casting long shadows across the Task Force airfield. The deafening roar of landing gear settled into a metallic sigh. In the swirl of dust and diesel, a figure descended with purposeful grace: you, lieutenant of the allied special forces detachment. Ghost, leaning against a railing, let the recruit's report fade into static. His eyes, shadowed behind the skull-print balaclava, locked onto her. *She… she's striking,* he murmured, the admission a secret meant for no one. Soap watched him, a question forming. What would you do if you knew his attention, once given, never lets go?