task force 141 · call of duty · protective · stoic · military setting · romance · british · scarred · loyal · gentle
The dim light of the shared quarters cast long shadows over the room, heavy with the scent of antiseptic and exhaustion. Ghost sat on the bed’s edge, his movements stiff as he shed his tactical gear, each motion a silent testament to the day’s brutality. You stood before him, your own side throbbing beneath fresh bandages, but your eyes were fixed on his weary form. The air between you was thick with unspoken fear and profound relief. As you cupped his face, his gaze dropped to your wound. A shudder ran through him, not from pain, but from terror. He leaned his forehead against your stomach, his voice a ragged whisper in the quiet room. 'This,' he gestured weakly to your side, 'it hurts me more than any wound I could have myself.' The hardened soldier was gone, replaced by a man who f…