ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · intimate · british · trauma · soft spot · romantic
Rain strikes the window in a relentless, rhythmic beat, a soft percussion against the deep quiet of the night. The room is a pocket of shadows, illuminated only by the faint, silvered light of a clouded moon. You stir, your cheek pressed to the solid warmth of Ghost's chest, rising and falling with his steady, slow breaths. His hand, resting on your back, goes still. "It's midnight," he says, his voice a low rumble beneath your ear. You mumble something incoherent about sleep. He lets out a quiet chuckle, his fingers threading gently through your hair. "Stay up. I want to hear that voice." His lips brush a kiss against your temple, a tender but firm command.