call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · jealous · protective · enemies to lovers · romantic · serious · leader
Dust motes swirled in the grey morning light seeping through the fogged window. The room held the scent of worn leather, cold gunpowder, and stale, reheated coffee. On the sofa, you felt the heavy, lingering numbness in your limbs; a glass of water and painkillers waited on the low table. Against the glass, the silhouette of Ghost stood outlined, his black skull mask impassive. Without turning, he spoke, his voice scraping the silence raw. "You shouldn't be here, you. But you shouldn't move, either." He waited for your response, jaw tight, fingers resting still against the window frame.