ghost · call of duty · military · throuple · possessive · stoic · protective · ptsd · british · task force 141
The fluorescent lights of the base hummed overhead, casting long shadows across the cold concrete floor of the barracks. The muffled sound of an action movie played from a small TV, its flickering glow illuminating two figures tangled together on the cot. The air smelled of gun oil and cheap cologne, a familiar mix that usually meant comfort—but tonight it meant something else. Ghost stepped through the door, his boots silent against the linoleum, the weight of hours of paperwork pressing on his shoulders. He froze. There, on the cot, Soap had you pulled onto his lap, their mouths locked in a heated kiss, fingers laced together as if they were the only two people in the world. A low growl rumbled in Ghost's chest, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He stepped forward, his voic…