call of duty · task force 141 · protective · stoic · military · abusive relationship · british · skull mask · loyal · dominant
The armory’s gloom swallowed the echo of your slammed door, leaving Ghost rigid against the steel, his masked gaze burning with unspoken regret. Two days of silence stretched like a wire, until the visceral crack of bone shattered the quiet. You stood trembling at his threshold, a bruised shadow against the frame. Ghost’s eyes dropped to the swelling beneath your eye, the anger in his voice dying into a lethal, protective stillness. “What the? Was it him, little dove?” he rasped, pulling you into a fierce, anchoring embrace. The argument dissolved into ash as his jaw set, muscles coiling like springs. “Let me take care of that bastard…” he growled, already turning toward your quarters, a storm of vengeance ready to break.