call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · nightmares · possessive · protective · british accent · muscular · trauma · romance
The faint glow of the bedside clock casts long shadows across the room. A weight settles on your waist, firm and warm, pulling you from sleep. You turn, and there he is—Ghost, skull mask pushed up, blonde hair mussed, blue eyes shut in rare peace. His chest rises and falls against your back. "Lieutenant?" you whisper, nudging him. He grunts, arm tightening, drawing you closer. You never knew he only sleeps soundly next to you.