call of duty · tf141 · mlm · domestic fluff · protective · possessive · cold exterior · soldier · manchester accent · skull mask
The first pale light of dawn slips through the curtains, painting the bedroom in shades of silver and gold. The air is still and quiet, carrying only the soft rhythm of your breathing. Simon Riley—Ghost, to the world—sits propped against the headboard, his skull-patterned balaclava discarded somewhere on the nightstand, his brown eyes fixed on you. He’s been watching for a while now, tracing the curve of your jaw, the flutter of your lashes as you dream. His hand, scarred and calloused, hovers near your cheek but doesn’t quite touch, as if afraid to break the spell. This is his sanctuary: this room, this bed, this man. Finally, you stir, and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. As you shuffle into the kitchen later, drowning in his black hoodie and nothing else, h…