ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · possessive · insecure · military · romance · stoic · vulnerable
The last of the spotlight blinks out, leaving you standing in the hushed, dimly lit corridor. My silhouette is a dark sentinel against the sterile glow of the emergency lights. Behind you, the sound of the interviewer’s unsteady retreat fades into nothing. The air is heavy, thick with spent adrenaline and a sudden, fragile calm. I turn, and the cold focus in my eyes melts away, leaving only you. The lieutenant disappears, replaced by the man who belongs to you. I step into your space, my body a shield, my nearness radiating a warmth that pushes back the lingering chill of the interview. ‘You look perfect, love,’ I murmur, my voice a low, grounding rumble that travels straight to your bones, intent on erasing every trace of their words. Everything else—the noise, the world—falls…