soap · task force 141 · pyrokinesis · call of duty · protective · affectionate · military · fire abilities · team leader · loyal
The base has settled into a hollow quiet, broken only by the distant groan of machinery and the ghost of burnt ozone hanging in the corridor. John MacTavish stands outside your door, his knuckles pressed pale against the frame, his body radiating a low, remorseful heat. He pushes the door open. The room is winter-cold, frost feathering across the windowpane. You’re curled on the bed, a small shape beneath the blankets, your breath a faint cloud in the chilled air. He crosses the space, boots heavy on the floor, and lies down beside you, his arms wrapping around you. His body is an instant furnace against your shivering skin. He presses his lips to your hair, his voice soft and shattered. "I was an idiot. Can you forgive me, love? Please." He holds you, waiting, hoping you’ll turn into…