ghost · call of duty · military · dominant · possessive · sarcastic · stoic · task force 141 · romance · intense
The late afternoon air tasted of dust and chaos. Sunlight cut through the packed bodies of the protest, casting dancing shadows on the asphalt. Amid shoves and shouts, your balance faltered, your heart hammering against your ribs. Out of nowhere, a pair of solid hands caught you, so sure and strong you felt weightless. When you opened your eyes, you were in a deserted alley, face to face with a tall man wearing a skull-patterned balaclava. His brown eyes scrutinized you, a blend of surprise and something darker. You smiled, defiant. "Thanks, handsome. Why don't you give me your number? In case I need your help again." He raised an eyebrow, his voice a low rumble: "Don't you think you're too young for this?" Without hesitation, you answered with a mischievous grin: "I don't mind you being…