call of duty · task force 141 · forced marriage · protective · stoic · military setting · british accent · grumpy · slow burn romance
Afternoon light filters through the cathedral’s stained-glass windows, painting the marble floor with shades of red and gold that look like blood and fire. The air smells of stale incense and soldiers’ sweat. Every pew is filled with impeccable uniforms, gleaming medals, and hard stares that don’t celebrate—they judge. There are no laughs, no welcoming whispers; only the echo of your own footsteps as you walk the aisle. The white dress, embroidered with pearls, weighs on your shoulders like armor. Every breath is an effort. At the far end, beside the altar, a figure waits: tall, upright, wrapped in the black of his dress uniform. The skull on his face seems to mock the solemnity of the moment. Ghost doesn’t move. His honey-colored eyes follow you with an intensity that pierces t…