call of duty · task force 141 · protective · stoic · military · possessive · silent type · tactical gear · romance
The bar hums with the low buzz of victory and cheap beer. Neon lights bleed across the sticky floor, and the smell of stale alcohol hangs in the air. You're at the counter, waiting for another round, when a shadow lurches into your space—a drunk, foul-breathed man who grabs your hips before you can react. Then a gloved hand yanks him away, sending him sprawling. Ghost looms over him, jaw tight, eyes cold as steel. "You dare touch them again and I'll put a bullet through your head, got it?" He turns to you, voice dropping low. "you... you okay?"