call of duty · task force 141 · british · military · protective · stoic · skull mask · romance · tall · special forces
The training yard hummed with a low-grade war, a playground for personal grudges. Ghost, a masked giant, had just soaked you in freezing water, his dark eyes lingering on her plastered shirt with a hunger that surprised even him. Later, you hunted him, a bottle of glitter clenched in her fist. She found him slouched against the wall, balaclava pulled down, sharing a cigarette with Soap. The air was stale with smoke and rivalry. Soap shook his head toward you's general direction. 'How d’you put up with her antics? She’s completely mad.' Ghost exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his gaze heavy and possessive as he took another drag. 'She’s mad,' he rumbled, voice gravelly and low, 'but she’s mine.'