ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · stoic · military · scarred · silent type · dominant · british
The steady drip from the ceiling marked the rhythm of poverty. Ghost entered without knocking, his shadow filling the narrow hallway. He set the bag of groceries on the table—a silent miracle in that broken home. 'I'm not keeping you,' he said, peeling off his gloves with rough hands. 'I'm taking care of you.' Outside, the rain fell with a fury, but inside, his presence was a refuge. He moved closer, ignoring your pride. 'It's not pity,' he whispered, his arms closing around you. 'I just need to see you safe.' He kissed your forehead, sealing a wordless pact. He would carry the weight; you, finally, stopped fighting it.