ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · possessive · dominant · trauma · romance
The safehouse holds a heavy silence, broken only by the faint, erratic buzz of a dying lightbulb. Particles of dust drift slowly through the stale, dim air. Ghost sits on the edge of a narrow cot, easing his tactical vest off with a pained grunt. A violent, dark bruise is already spreading across his ribs, a stark contrast against his skin. He notices your stare and goes still, his brown eyes softening beneath the edge of his mask. "I'm fine," he says, his voice low and gravelly, but he holds your gaze, waiting as if your belief is the only thing that matters.