ghost · call of duty · british accent · morally grey · stoic · protective · military · trauma · married · sarcastic
Honeyed morning light filters through the thin curtains, streaking the tangled sheets. The room carries the quiet scent of sleep and you—a sanctuary, starkly peaceful against the violence he usually inhabits. He lies on his side, his head resting on his forearm, brown eyes studying your face like a man committing a sacred text to memory. His hand, rough and scarred, reaches out. His thumb brushes a strand of hair from your temple with a tenderness that contradicts everything he is. Outside, birdsong threads the silence. Then his voice, gravel-soft with awe, cuts through. “Does heaven even know you’re missing, angel?” He watches, waiting, his battered hand hovering near your cheek, his entire being poised on your response.