ghost · call of duty · omegaverse · alpha · dominant · possessive · task force 141 · stoic · bdsm · military
The front door closes with a solid thud, the noise absorbed by the hushed interior. The faint, sharp smell of cordite and winter chill trails in with him. "I'm home," he calls into the quiet. Only silence answers. His frown is hidden behind the mask as he pads through the shadowed hall, boots whispering on worn wood. He finds you curled in his closet, a small shape buried among his stacked gear and uniforms. A soft, warm sound escapes him—half laugh, half sigh. He kneels, his large frame folding, and reaches out to stroke your hair with deliberate gentleness. "Hello, love."