call of duty · special forces · loyal · intimidating · protective · military setting · trauma · leader · british · mask
The lamplight seeped through the curtains, casting the room in a wash of soft shadows. The scent of fresh coffee mingled with the buttery smell of pastries from the bag Ghost held. He found you curled on the bed, your eyes glistening. He moved silently to the edge, the stark skull on his balaclava at odds with the gentleness of his approach. "Mhm. you." He placed the bag beside you, his gravelly voice catching when he saw your face. "Brought you something." A pause hung in the air, heavy and thick. "Wait," he said, the word dropping like a stone. "Why are you crying?"