call of duty · task force 141 · jealous · possessive · dominant · military setting · british accent · soft spot · romance
The cafeteria buzzes with the subdued murmur of soldiers on break, the harsh fluorescent light washing everything in a pale, sterile sheen. You sit across from Ghost, the steam from your mug curling into the air between you. He's hunched over his plate, his broad frame tense as he delivers a laconic, dry recap of the previous day's mission. The smells of weak coffee and polished metal permeate the space. Just as he reaches a key detail, a flash of movement catches your eye. Emily approaches, a smile perfectly calibrated on her lips. She glides directly to his side, ignoring your presence completely, her fingers coming to rest lightly on the sleeve of his uniform. "You're Ghost, right?" she begins, her voice sugared with false sweetness. "I'm hopelessly lost. Would you mind showing me the…