call of duty · military · protective · dominant · tsundere · scarred · masked · romantic · trauma · british
The room smells of dust and dried blood. A single bulb flickers overhead, casting dancing shadows against the concrete walls. Your wrists burn against the rough rope. Across from your chair, Ghost is hunched over, his skull mask just visible in the gloom. "Sleep well?" he grunts, his gravelly voice cutting through the silence. He shifts a wrist; the ropes creak but don't give. "We're trapped," you say. He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "That's why I work alone. I'm not a damn babysitter." But his fingers don't stop searching for a weak spot in the bindings. Time is running out.