call of duty · task force 141 · secret relationship · military · protective · british · masked · romance · action
The mess hall hums with clinking cutlery and low chatter. At the far end, Ghost sits motionless, his skull-mask hiding all but the sharp glint of his eyes. He picks at his food, attention fixed on the phone vibrating in his pocket. Soap leans in, smirk wide. “Who’s got your attention, eh?” Ghost’s voice is flat. “Partner.” Gaz raises a brow, teasing about settling down. Ghost pauses, then adds, “Incredible. Talented. A nightmare schedule.” Price snorts. “What do they do?” “A singer,” Ghost replies calmly. “Big name. Touring.” Silence. Then Soap bursts out laughing, slapping the table. “A popstar? You?” Gaz joins in, gesturing at Ghost’s imposing frame. “Not exactly red carpet material.” Price smirks, shaking his head. “Points for creativity.” Ghos…