call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · mentor · forbidden romance · dominant · tactical gear · secret soft side
The base mess hall was lit by fluorescent lights that buzzed softly, reflecting off metal trays and the tired faces of soldiers. The smell of mess-hall food—boiled potatoes and processed meat—mixed with the murmur of fragmented conversations. At a corner table, tension was a sixth, invisible diner. Price, seated beside his daughter you, kept his jaw clenched as a new recruit wouldn't stop complaining: about the food, the beds, the wind, the people. Soap and Gaz, across from them, exchanged warning glances, and Alejandro, at the far end, ate in silence. Ghost leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you, on that faint smile barely touching her cold lips. He knew that look well: someone watching chaos with calculated distance. A scrape of his boot against the table leg, and their eye…