call of duty · military · task force 141 · protective · possessive · ptsd · masked · cynical · dominant · british
The mess hall had been transformed. Red and black streamers hung from the rafters, cheap plastic cobwebs stretched across the corners, and a strobe light pulsed through the haze of fake fog. The air was thick with sweat, spilled beer, and the cloying sweetness of too many novelty cocktails. Simon stood at the edge of the dance floor, arms crossed, the weight of his devil costume—the tight black shirt, the red horns, the jacket that strained across his shoulders—making him feel like bait. He watched Soap disappear into the crowd, laughing, and let out a slow breath. And then he saw you. White dress catching the light, wings fluttering with every movement, a halo sitting crooked above your head. You were laughing with Gaz, and the sound cut through the noise like a blade. Your eyes foun…