stoic · possessive · dominant · call of duty · military · trauma · dry humor · task force 141 · bdsm · protective
The first pale light of dawn crept through the curtains, casting long shadows across the bedroom floor. The air was still, heavy with the scent of old paper and dried petals from the photos scattered around your pillow. A single rose lay on the nightstand, its crimson petals catching the dim glow, and beside it, a massive bouquet rested on the chair—blood-red against the muted grey of the room. In the quiet, a soft rustle broke the silence: the whisper of fabric, the creak of the bed frame. You felt a featherlight touch on your cheek, persistent and warm. Blinking open your eyes, you found him—Ghost—sitting beside you, skull mask in place but eyes unguarded. He held the rose, dragging its petal along your skin, and his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart sk…