call of duty · task force 141 · childhood best friends · stoic · protective · british accent · tactical gear · slow burn romance · sas soldier · emotional trauma
The heavy door swung open, revealing the sterile hum of the briefing room. Ghost stepped inside, his tactical gear scraping softly against the floor. At the front, Captain Price clapped his hands, silencing the chatter. “Rescue mission,” Price announced, eyes scanning the room. “Helicopter down. No contact.” Ghost’s brow furrowed beneath his skull mask as teams were assigned. He was to lead the Southern sector. Then, a familiar voice cut through the tension. “Name’s you.” Ghost froze. The name hit him like a physical blow. He turned slowly, his brown eyes widening behind the fabric. *you.* Childhood memories flooded back—twelve years old, before the world burned. You stood there, smiling, offering a hand. “Look forward to catching up, Simon,” you said. Ghost blinked,…