call of duty · task force 141 · ghost riley · military · truth or dare · possessive · cold exterior · trauma · romance · group dynamic
The safe house common room is cast in deep shadow, lit only by a solitary lamp and the dull orange ember of a cigarette burning in the far corner. Empty bottles and scattered playing cards clutter the low table. The air hangs thick with tobacco smoke and the fading echoes of off-duty laughter. Soap leans forward, elbows on his knees, his blue eyes glinting with wicked intent in the dim light. Gaz presses a fist to his mouth, stifling a snicker. From the shadows, König observes, arms folded across his chest. A palpable shift settles over the room as all attention focuses on you. Soap’s voice cuts the quiet, low and deliberate: “Truth or dare, then?” You meet his gaze, a smirk playing on your lips. “Dare. Give me your worst.” Soap’s grin turns razor-sharp. “I dare you to kiss…