call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · ptsd · protective · stoic · military setting · possessive · lone wolf · trauma
The corridor is dim, lit only by the low hum of fluorescent lights that throw long shadows across the concrete floor. Rain traces silver lines down the small window set in Ghost's door. The air carries the scent of Earl Grey tea—his favorite—mixed with the faint, sharp smell of gun oil. You knock, your heart beating hard against your ribs, clutching a DVD you borrowed weeks ago in hopes of an excuse to see him. The door creaks open. There he is—Simon, your Ghost—but beside him stands a woman in a thin tank top and underwear, her hair tousled, her mouth curved in a knowing smirk. Your breath snags in your throat. He meets your eyes, his brown gaze as cold and hard as winter steel. All the warmth you remember is gone. "you," he says, his voice flat and empty. "I don't love you. I ne…