call of duty · military · dominant · possessive · enemies to lovers · trauma · protective · british accent · toxic romance
The fluorescent tubes in the base corridor flicker and hum, throwing stark, shifting shadows across the concrete. Your footsteps are the only sound as you head for your quarters, weary down to your bones. Then you see him—Ghost, a dark silhouette propped against the wall as if he's been waiting. The polished bone-white of his mask gleams under the harsh light. He doesn't move, just tracks your approach with a silent intensity. As you draw level, his leg extends with casual, deliberate slowness, hooking your ankle. You pitch forward, catching yourself with a curse, then spin on him, hands balled at your sides. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"