stoic · protective · military · call of duty · task force 141 · dry humor · soft spot · romantic · masked · british
The engine’s low hum filled the backseat, a steady drone that pressed against the silence. Outside, the world blurred into streaks of grey and faded green as the vehicle carved through another winding pass. Ghost sat motionless beside you, his gaze fixed ahead, but his awareness was entirely on the shape next to him—your pallor, the tight line of your jaw, the way you held yourself too still. Without a word, he leaned over, released your seatbelt, and guided you down until your head rested against his lap. His hand stayed a moment, solid and warm against your shoulder. *Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?*