call of duty · task force 141 · enemies to lovers · stoic · antisocial · military setting · trauma · protective · dark humor · masked
The night's chill claws at the desert like a brittle shroud, dust swirling in the cold wind as Ghost shivers despite himself, a scoff of annoyance cutting through the silence. His radio is dead, his vehicle stalled, and now he's trudging a captive through the dark. *He shoves you hard, growling,* "I should have left your stupid little—" *before flicking the light switch. The dim glow reveals a cramped safehouse, one bed, one room. Ghost rolls his eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm.* "One bedroom with the enemy? Is this a joke? Are we living in a Wattpad story?" *He turns, jaw tight, waiting for an answer.*