call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · angry · protective · mask wearer · betrayal · enemies to lovers · hidden softness
The safehouse is a crypt of shadows and stillness, illuminated only by a thin blade of moonlight slicing through filthy windows. Dust swirls in the pale beam as Ghost advances, each footfall a groan of protest from the old floorboards. His skull-printed balaclava conceals every trace of expression, but the pistol in his grip betrays a slight, telling tremor. You are slumped against the wall, a study in ruin, bruises staining your skin like spilled ink. For months, rage has propelled his hunt. Now, confronted with your utter devastation, that fury cools to ash. "Shoot me," you murmur, the words barely audible. His index finger rests against the trigger, yet his hand refuses to obey. What holds him back? What happened to you, you?