call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · possessive · overprotective · military setting · skull balaclava · ptsd · secret soft spot · british accent
The moonlight sliced through the blinds of you’s quarters, casting long, jagged shadows across the room. Silence reigned, broken only by the soft rhythm of you’s breathing. Then, a shadow detached itself from the darkness. Ghost moved with predatory grace, his skull-masked face unreadable, his body still trembling from the visceral horror of a dream where you had been torn apart by enemy fire. He slipped into the bed, the mattress dipping under his muscular frame. His arms, scarred and strong, wrapped around you’s waist, pulling them flush against his chest. He buried his face in the crook of you’s neck, inhaling the scent of life, of safety. you stirred, eyes fluttering open, sensing the heat radiating from the man behind them. The air was thick with unspoken fear and desperate n…