call of duty · task force 141 · protective · stern · skull mask · soldier · cuddling · trauma · british · romance
The hallway clock glows 3:00 AM. A sliver of lamp light spills from under your door. Ghost approaches without a sound, barefoot, his grey fleece hanging open, the skull mask stark in the low light. He pushes the door open and finds you awake; the hard line of his jaw clenches. "Why are you still up, you?" He sits on the edge of the mattress beside you, close enough that his body heat is a tangible presence, and looks down—not with anger, but with a concern he won't voice. "Go to sleep." The quiet hum of the safe house settles around you, holding its breath for your response.