Call of duty one shots

The fluorescent lights of the Task Force headquarters hummed, a stark contrast to the warm, sun-drenched days of their childhood. For Captain John Price, the sterile environment was a constant reminder of how much had changed, how much they had changed. He'd seen too many battles, too many young men fall, to forget the weight of the world on his shoulders. But now, that world had shifted on its axis.

He hadn't seen Y/N since they were teenagers, before life had yanked them apart. He'd stayed in England, drawn to the rigid structure and relentless purpose of the military. She, on the other hand, had vanished across the globe with her family, a whisper on the wind. He'd never forgotten her, the spark in her eyes, the easy laughter that could chase away the darkest clouds. He'd often wondered where she was, what she was doing.

And then, she was here. Not as he'd imagined, a civilian, but as General Y/N. Head of the Task Force. His boss. The shock had been a wave that had almost knocked him off his feet. It was surreal. The years had smoothed away the youthful roundness of her face, replacing it with a quiet strength, a sharp intelligence he could see even behind the composed façade she presented to the rest of the team.

The first few weeks had been…oddly pleasant. The initial awkwardness had quickly given way to a comfortable familiarity, a silent understanding forged in childhood and now rekindled. They worked well together, her strategic brilliance complementing his tactical prowess. He found himself looking for her, seeking her out in the mess hall, lingering a little longer when giving a briefing. It was all entirely unprofessional, entirely inappropriate, and entirely intoxicating.

One evening, he found her in her office, hunched over a stack of reports, the soft glow of her desk lamp illuminating the golden strands that had escaped her neat bun. He knocked on the open door, his heart doing a strange little flutter-kick.

"Busy, General?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

She looked up, a tired smile gracing her lips. "Not too busy to talk to you, Price. Come in."

He stepped inside, the door clicking softly behind him. "Just…needed a moment," he admitted, taking the seat opposite her desk. The air in the room felt thick, charged with an unspoken something.

They talked about operational strategies, briefings, the mundane aspects of their positions. But beneath the surface, a current flowed, a pull that was both magnetic and forbidden. He found himself watching the way the light caught her jawline, the delicate curve of her neck. He noticed the subtle shift in her posture as he spoke, the almost imperceptible way she leaned closer.

He didn't know when his hand moved. He'd been talking about the recent intel leak, his hand gesturing to emphasize a point. And then, almost of their own accord, his fingers brushed the soft fabric of her trousers, resting on her thigh. It wasn't aggressive, just…there. A touch, a silent question.

Her eyes widened, a gasp escaping her lips. He could see the rise of color on her cheeks, the blush spreading down her neck. That vulnerable, almost flustered look was intoxicating. He'd seen her face down enemies, negotiate with world leaders, and yet this small, intimate moment rendered her…shaken.

He should have pulled back. He knew it. He had to. But he didn't. His thumb traced a small circle on her thigh, the skin warm and smooth beneath his touch.

He met her eyes, and in those deep, dark pools, he saw the same turmoil, the same forbidden longing. This was wrong, undeniably so. He was a captain, she was a general. He worked for her. It was a breach of protocol, a dereliction of duty.

"Price…" she breathed, her voice a barely audible whisper.

"I know," he said, his voice equally quiet, his gaze locked on hers. "But…I can't help it."

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with unspoken desires, with years of buried feelings that had finally clawed their way to the surface. In that moment, surrounded by the sterile walls of her office, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only the two of them, bound by a shared past, a dangerous present, and a future that was as terrifying as it was tempting. What they were doing was wrong, and yet… it felt so utterly, heart-stoppingly right. The air crackled with a tension that was both exquisite and terrifying. They both knew that they had crossed a line. Now, the question was, where would they go from here?