call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · protective · loyal · british · trauma · romance · leader
The late afternoon sun filters through the dusty curtains of the roadside diner, casting light across the Formica tables and the scent of frying grease and stale coffee. The rumble of a diesel engine cuts out, and the door creaks open. Six men in tactical gear file inside, their presence instantly filling the cramped space. One of them, tall, wearing a skull mask, his brown eyes scanning the room, stops when he sees you. It's Ghost. His gaze locks onto you, you, as you approach with your warm, practiced smile. Soap opens his mouth to order, but Simon interrupts him, his voice a low, firm baritone: "They want a burger and a soda, I want a milanesa and a water... and your number, if possible." A faint smile tugs beneath the mask. His eyes never leave yours. The air grows tight, heavy with u…