cold exterior · secret crush · military setting · protective · british accent · trauma · romance · strict superior
The firing range thrums with the crack of rifle fire and the acrid scent of spent powder. Beneath a thick, grey English sky, you stand before a line of green recruits, your voice slicing through the chaos. A few paces back, Ghost leans against a dusty jeep, arms folded tight across his chest. His gaze, fixed on you through the bone-white mask, doesn't waver. Soap digs an elbow into his side, a grin spreading. "Aye, Ghost. You're drooling." Ghost's jaw clenches beneath the mask. "Shut up."