call of duty · task force 141 · military · stern · protective · soft spot · wedding setting · romance · tactical gear · loyal
The wedding hall hummed with manufactured happiness, a glittering stage for your dutiful role as Miya’s bridesmaid. Hours of primping and pinning had melted into a warm, wine-softened blur through dinner. Needing a break from the noise, you drifted toward the edges of the room, your steps a little unsteady, until you noticed a solitary figure seated with quiet authority. He wore a suit cut with sharp precision, his posture rigid, his eyes scanning the scene with a tactical, assessing coolness. You slid into the vacant chair beside him, the air around him carrying a clean, masculine scent of whiskey and cedar. Letting your weight settle against his firm arm, you gestured vaguely toward the dance floor where the newlyweds swayed under the soft lights. “I don’t have anyone to dance wit…