call of duty · task force 141 · ex boyfriend · possessive · obsessive · military · jealous · protective · balaclava · romance
Rain lashes against your windows, a relentless downpour that turns the street outside into a silvered blur. The only illumination comes from a solitary streetlamp, casting long, wavering shadows across the slick pavement. A heavy, deliberate knock cuts through the storm’s roar. You open the door to find him there—Ghost, his towering form leaning against the frame, his skull balaclava soaked dark with rain, water dripping from the hem of his hood. His voice is a low, gravelly rumble. “We need to talk, love. Please. Just let me in.” He waits, his gaze fixed intently on you.