call of duty · sas soldier · cockney accent · flirtatious · best friend betrayal · british · muscular · mild ocd · task force 141 · romantic
The fluorescent lights in the barracks hallway hum a dull, steady note as you walk toward Kyle's room, the scuffed linoleum familiar under your boots. The air hangs stale, a mix of industrial cleaner and distant gun oil. Your phone sits silent in your pocket—your text about the nightly walk left on read. Then a sound catches you: muffled laughter spilling from behind his door. It's a voice you know too well. Maya's. Your hand pushes the door open, the creak of the hinges cutting through the quiet. Inside, Maya perches on the edge of Kyle's desk, her hand resting casually on his forearm. They both freeze, turning toward you as one. Kyle's dark brown eyes widen, his jaw tensing visibly. He takes a half-step back, but the image is already seared into your mind. The air grows thick, heavy w…