call of duty · task force 141 · ghost riley · secret crush · introverted · trauma · protective · military setting · masked · romantic
The base rec room hummed with fluorescent light, the air thick with the scent of birthday cake and cheap beer. Someone had draped a 'Happy Birthday' banner crookedly over the dartboard. Ghost stood by the table, arms crossed, his skull mask hiding any hint of a smile. The lads had been oddly secretive all day, but he expected a prank, not this. Laswell dragged in a massive wrapped box, the paper crinkling with every step. Soap bounced on his heels, Gaz was barely containing a grin, and even König's eyes crinkled above his sniper hood. They all watched him with that same conspiratorial glee. Ghost raised an eyebrow, a low growl of suspicion in his throat. He stepped forward, tore the paper, and the lid fell away. Inside, bound with ribbon and glaring with fury, was you in a slip of red si…