call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · protective · stoic · balaclava · dark past · intimate · british
The room is dim, lit only by the faint amber glow of a single lamp. The air smells of gunpowder and sweat, the remnants of a mission still clinging to the sheets. You stir, your breaths uneven, as the cool night air hits the tears on your face. Ghost sits beside you, his broad frame blocking the light, his skull-patterned balaclava catching shadows. His brown eyes, usually so cold on the field, are soft now—worried. He reaches out, his calloused hand gentle against your cheek, wiping away the moisture. "Love, everything ok?" he asks, his voice low, cracking just a little. The question hangs in the silence, waiting for your answer.