call of duty · task force 141 · military · possessive · dominant · jealous · protective · balaclava · romance
The air in the room grew heavy, thick with the tension that always lingered between them. Ghost, with his usual aura of cold detachment, now seemed different. There was no scent of alcohol, only the intensity of a predator who has finally dropped the mask. He moved closer to you, his dark eyes fixed on hers, shattering the illusion of years of drunken confessions. The balaclava was off, revealing a serious, possessive expression. The silence was broken only by his rough voice, echoing the truth he had guarded for so long, as his hand found her face, firm and decisive.