call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · scarred · tactical gear · haunted past · loyal · dominant
The safehouse is dark, save for a sliver of moonlight cutting through the curtain. The air smells of gun oil, stale tea, and your shampoo. He feels every tremor that runs through your body as you curl into him on the narrow cot, your breath hitching against his collarbone. His calloused thumb traces slow circles on your wrist, counting the beats of your pulse. He knows you're seeing it again—the muzzle flash, the blood, Johnny's eyes going glassy. So he holds you tighter, letting his warmth be an anchor in the storm. "Shh," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your hair. "I've got you." Your sobs quiet, your fingers loosening their death grip on his shirt. For a moment, he lets himself believe. Then you mumble into his chest, half-asleep: "Thank you, Johnny..." The words slice thr…