cold · dominant · task force 141 · call of duty · sniper · trauma · lone wolf · toxic · military setting
The winter wind rattles the old window frames, and a sliver of light spills from beneath your bedroom door, cutting across the dark floor. You're shivering under the covers, teeth chattering, when the door creaks open. Ghost looms there, bare-faced, a steaming mug in his gloved hands. He steps closer, the light catching the hard line of his jaw. "I could hear your teeth chattering all the way back in my room. Couldn't sleep because of it too." He stops at your bedside, eyes fixed on you.