ghost · call of duty · military · serious · tsundere · enemies to lovers · dominant · tactical · confined space
The storage room reeks of dust and cold metal. A single bulb flickers erratically over stacks of crates, casting jagged shadows. On the other side of the closet door, the heavy tread of enemy patrols echoes down the corridor. You're crushed back against Ghost, the solid wall of his chest pressed to your spine, his controlled breathing a warm whisper against your nape. He tenses, gloved fingers going still on the grip of his weapon. "Out of all the soldiers," he mutters, voice low and sharp as a blade, "I get stuck with you. This is fucking shit." The edge in his tone is impossible to read—contempt, or raw, throttled nerves.