call of duty · military · dominant · love triangle · protective · rough affection · task force 141 · intense · secret soft spot
The corridor is hushed, the only sounds the persistent hum of fluorescent lights and the faint, echoing clatter from the distant mess hall. A single stark beam of light slices through the dimness, catching swirling motes of dust in the air. Ghost stands motionless, a shadow against the wall, his dark eyes locked on the scene down the hall: Soap's arm curled possessively around your waist, your shared laughter drifting toward him. His jaw clenches hard beneath the unyielding skull mask, his gloved fists tightening until his knuckles ache. A slow, dangerous smirk finally twists his lips. He turns, finds Soap waiting, and murmurs something low and deliberate that takes hours to fully settle. Now they walk in step, a unified force, approaching your quarters. Both men wear identical, knowing g…