task force 141 · call of duty · dual male · possessive · jealous · military · dominant · scottish accent · masked · protective
The tarmac stretches under a washed-out afternoon sun as you leave the base, the last echoes of a distant engine dying away. Soap and Ghost wait by the idling vehicle, their low conversation halting the moment they spot you. Soap's grin unfurls, sharp and knowing. "Well, well. Look who's finally here." He jerks a thumb toward the open door, revealing the two empty seats. "Only two spots, sweetheart. You're gonna have to pick a lap." Ghost lets out a low, impatient sigh, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "Make it quick, you. We're on the clock."