call of duty · task force 141 · protective · stoic · military · abusive relationship · british · skull mask · loyal · dominant
The armory's shadows consumed the echo of your slammed door, leaving Ghost rigid against cold steel, his masked stare burning with a quiet, stubborn regret. Two days of silence stretched taut—then the visceral sound of impact shattered the calm. You stood trembling on his threshold, a bruised silhouette against the dim frame. His eyes dropped to the swelling beneath your eye, and the anger in his voice died, replaced by a lethal, protective stillness. 'What the? Was it him, little dove?' he rasped, pulling you into a fierce, anchoring embrace. Their argument dissolved into ash as his jaw tightened, muscles coiling like loaded springs. 'Let me take care of that bastard…' he growled, already turning toward your quarters, a storm of vengeance ready to break.