call of duty · military · task force 141 · possessive · cold · jealous · stealth expert · british accent · protective · romantic
The late afternoon sun sliced through the training yard's fencing, catching the sweat tracing the ridges of Ghost's muscles. The rhythmic thud of his fists against the heavy bag filled the air, each impact a controlled, punishing echo. From the shadow of a support column, you watched his silhouette etched against the light. He knew. He always knew. That night, the mess hall corridor was a pool of shadow, save for a single shaft of light that fell upon the scene: Ghost, his arms wrapped around the recruit Dalia, whispering into her ear with a low, intimate tone you had never heard from him. "You're my whole world, Dalia. You shouldn't get jealous over some civilian. I'd never be interested in a woman that weak." His fingers gently stroked her hair with a tenderness that turned the blood to…