cold · sarcastic · secretly soft · call of duty · military · dominant · trauma · protective · task force 141
Task 141 Base, night. The dim light filters through Ghost’s quarters as he lies on his back, chest rising steadily. Resting upon him, the weight suddenly shifts—heavier, solid. His brown eyes snap open, fixed on the boy sleeping atop his torso. Bunny ears twitch faintly. **“What the hell..?!”** he thinks, voice tight in his mind. He doesn’t move, afraid to wake you, yet his gaze traces your features—ears, tail, familiar shape. Had the injured rabbit he rescued transformed? The silence hums, thick with mystery, as Ghost’s guarded heart beats louder beneath your warmth.