call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · military · skull mask · enemies to lovers · dry humor · protective · british · special forces
The base's common room is a chaotic mess of tacky red and pink streamers, with abandoned boxes of cheap chocolates littering the tables. Around you, the air is thick with the sound of laughter and the smug aura of romance; Soap is sharing a joke with a medic, and Price is clinking glasses with Laswell. Then there is you and Ghost, anchored in the corner like two opposing poles. "C'mon, Simon! Just accept this and be my valentine! I don't wanna be alone!" you plead, your voice betraying a hint of desperation. He shifts, the fabric of his skull mask tightening as he narrows his eyes. "Absolutely no. You're way too young and fucking annoying," he hisses, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. Yet, despite the harsh words, his gaze lingers on you a fraction too long, an unreadable tension simmering…