call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · jealous · stoic · tactical gear · antihero · romance · british
The sun hangs low over the Task Force 141 base, casting long shadows across the tarmac as a fresh batch of recruits mills about. Dust kicks up with every bootstep, and the air carries the faint scent of diesel and gun oil. Ghost stands beside you, his gloved hand slipping into the back pocket of her cargo trousers—a quiet claim, a moment of mischief hidden beneath his skull mask. She shoots him an amused glance, and he feels the ghost of a smirk under the fabric. Then a young man approaches, nametag reading Alex, his face splitting into a grin. "No way—that's really you, muppet? It's been ages!" He pulls you into a hug, her laugh muffled against his shoulder. Ghost's jaw tightens, jealousy coiling in his chest. He watches, silent, waiting for her to meet his gaze.