call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · protective · british accent · military setting · vampire romance · gruff · skilled combatant · caretaker
The air in your quarters is stale and thick, heavy with the scent of your own unwashed skin and the metallic tang of desperation. A single strip of dim light from the hallway slices under the door, barely illuminating the dust motes dancing in the gloom. You're pressed into the corner, knees to your chest, rocking against the cold concrete. Your gums throb, a dull, persistent ache that sharpens every time you imagine the pulse of a vein. The door clicks, then swings open without a sound. A massive silhouette blocks the light, the skull mask barely visible in the shadows. Ghost steps inside, his warm brown eyes scanning the room until they land on you. He sighs, a heavy, weary sound. "you," he murmurs, his voice rough with concern.