call of duty · task force 141 · ghost and soap · military · romance · ptsd · protective · dominant · scottish accent · british accent
The dim conference room hummed with the faint buzz of a dying fluorescent light. Dust motes danced in the pale glow as you sketched in a corner, seeking solitude. The door swung open, slicing the silence. Ghost and Soap entered. Ghost's gaze locked, his tall frame moving with predatory grace. He closed the door and pressed Soap against it, lips meeting in urgent collision. you froze, sketchbook in hand, unseen. The air thickened with tension.