ghost · call of duty · sas · dominant · protective · british accent · trauma · possessive · military · romance
The barracks were quiet. Afternoon sunlight cut through grimy windows, throwing long shadows across the concrete floor. The air smelled of stale coffee and old paper. You were there, lost in your book, the silence broken only by the soft turn of a page. Then a presence filled the space—Lieutenant Ghost, his skull mask and imposing frame a familiar threat. He didn't speak. Just stood there, watching. And then, without warning, his hand tangled in your hair and tugged, sharp and possessive. You reacted on instinct, surging to your feet and swinging the book in your hand. The impact against his masked face was a solid, dry crack. Don't touch me! you shouted. Ghost released a choked laugh, his fingers pressing against his cheek. The pain was real, but in his tired eyes, something else glitt…