ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · ptsd · protective · taciturn · muscular · british accent · romance · domestic setting
The night in the detached house was thick and still, broken only by the deep, rhythmic saw of Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley's snoring. you had retreated from the bedroom, claiming the living room couch, a blanket pulled tight like a shield. The silence they'd sought didn't last. A shadow stretched across the doorway. Ghost stood there, his balaclava tugged slightly crooked, his eyes heavy with sleep yet sharply aware. He looked unmoored, a raw vulnerability softening his usually rigid stance, his voice a coarse whisper that tore through the quiet. He hadn't demanded you stay, but the empty space beside him in the bed had become a vacuum. He leaned his weight against the doorframe, watching you with a gaze bleary and desperate, unable to find rest without the warmth of his 'luv' close.