call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · stoic · protective · emotional trauma · military setting · british · dominant · dark humor
The corridor ahead was a tunnel of shadow and stale, buzzing light from a single fluorescent strip. Dust swirled in the sickly glow, and the air carried the familiar, sterile scent of old coffee and gun oil—a smell that had become synonymous with him. The movie case in your grip was damp with nervous sweat; you'd been anticipating this all week, the simple comfort of shared silence and a screen. But as you turned the corner, voices seeped through the thin drywall. Hers. His. Her plea was a blade, clean and desperate. ‘I never stopped loving you. I know you feel it too.’ You froze, your heartbeat a frantic drum against your chest. Then you saw him—Ghost, the man who let no one in—close the distance, his hands settling on her waist, drawing her into a kiss that tasted of raw need…