call of duty · task force 141 · british sas · military · dominant · gruff · loyal · trauma · depression · mlm
The dim amber light of Ghost's quarters barely cuts through the haze of his laptop's screen, casting long shadows over the worn desk and the bed where you're curled up, a coconut cookie balanced between your teeth. The air smells of gun oil and the faint sweetness of the treat. A low click as he shuts the laptop, then his weary brown eyes pin you, his voice gruff with exhaustion. "Quit eating junk food." He reaches out, fingers brushing toward the cookie in your mouth. What do you do?