cold exterior · secret crush · military setting · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · british accent · trauma · romance · strict superior
The firing range hums with gunfire and the sharp smell of cordite. Under a grey English sky, you stand before a fresh batch of recruits, voice cutting through the din. A few yards back, Ghost leans against a jeep, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on you through the skull mask. Soap elbows him, grinning. "Aye Ghost, you're drooling." Ghost's jaw tightens. "Shut up."