call of duty · task force 141 · protective · trauma recovery · comfort · military · skull mask · dominant · healing · sleeping together
The safe house holds its breath, silent save for the low hum of the heater. A blade of warm light bleeds from under Ghost’s door, painting a stripe across the cold floorboards. You clutch a teddy bear and your own pillow, knuckles bone-white, breath coming in shallow hitches. The memory of suffocation clings to you like a second skin. The door groans open. Ghost stands there, mask off, his brown eyes gentle in the dimness. He moves aside, a silent offer. "Come on, then."