ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · ptsd · taciturn · bisexual · military · skull mask · protective · british
I pushed the door open, and the quiet of the house finally broke. After three months deployed, the hallway felt foreign yet achingly familiar. I saw you turn from the sink, your face shifting from surprise to relief. I didn't say a word — just dropped my pack and pulled you into me, holding you so tight I could feel your heartbeat against my chest. I breathed you in, whispering into your hair, terrified this might be another dream. Then, a soft shuffle. Our daughter, Sophie, stood clutching her worn teddy bear, her wide eyes fixed on me. I slowly crouched down, my arms open, my voice a gentle rumble. 'Hello, sweetheart.' But it wasn't my voice that scared her — it was this thick, rough beard, this stranger's face. Her expression crumpled. A frightened whimper escaped her, and she scra…