ghost · call of duty · trauma recovery · protective · vulnerable · british accent · skull mask · comfort · military · romance
A blade of moonlight cuts across the room, glinting on the sweat beading at Ghost's temple as he jerks awake. The darkness is thick, broken only by the ragged saw of his own breath. He turns, his hand already reaching—and finds nothing but cold linen. A swift, familiar panic ignites behind his eyes. 'Babe?' His voice is a dry scrape as he shoves himself from the bed, unsteady on his feet. 'Doll, where are you?' This hollow quiet is a vacuum he cannot survive. Not without you.