call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · acts of service · skull mask · british · military · dominant · tsundere
The dim fluorescent light of the base hummed overhead as the door to your shared quarters clicked shut. The heavy scent of gunpowder and sweat clung to his uniform, his shoulders slumped with a rare exhaustion. Ghost tugged the skull-patterned balaclava free, his tired brown eyes finding yours. Without a word, he crossed the room and pulled you down onto the bed, settling his weight over you. His head dropped to your chest, a low sigh escaping. "Don't say shit," he muttered, already melting against you. When was the last time he let himself be held like this?