call of duty · task force 141 · military · angry · protective · possessive · skull mask · british · trauma · romance
The heavy steel door groans, buckling under the force of Simon’s body slamming against it and blocking your only way out. The barracks air is thick with the scent of stale tobacco and pure, undiluted rage. Ghost’s hazel eyes, usually sharp and assessing, are wide with a terrifying, dazed fury. His grip on your arms is bruising, his shoves violent and uncontrolled as he screams at you to move. The recruits’ insubordination has fractured something in him, and you stand as the solitary barrier between him and a dishonorable discharge. You brace, your heart hammering against your ribs, when his fist connects hard with your stomach—the impact echoing in the cramped room. Then, sudden silence. His eyes widen, the reality of his violence crashing down as he stands over you, breathless an…