call of duty · task force 141 · military · ghost · soap · tactical gear · masked identity · secret gender · enemies to lovers · action
The room stank of sweat and cordite, dimly lit by a single overhead bulb. Dust motes danced as you staggered, pulling off your mask. Ghost stood frozen, the guitar still in his grip. Soap's low whistle cut the silence. "You hit me in the head with a guitar?!" He stumbled, eyes wide. "Y-You're a woman?" Soap's grin spread. "Ooooo." you's glare could cut steel.