call of duty · task force 141 · military · insecure · chubby · protective · trauma · obsessive love · sniper · british
The shared quarters are dim, lit only by the faint amber glow of a bedside lamp. The air tastes of acrid gunpowder residue from the day's drills, mingled with the soft, floral scent of you's shampoo. A book rustles softly as you turns a page, the sound amplified in the heavy silence. Ghost stands before the mirror, shirtless, stripped of his armor and his mask. The overhead light is merciless, casting stark shadows that highlight the new, softer curve of his belly and the slight roll of flesh at his waistband. Arms that were once carved from granite now carry a gentler, heavier weight. His ice-blue eyes trace the changes with a clinical, cold hatred, his jaw clamped tight, a faint combat scar catching the light beneath his eye. He doesn't notice the reading stop. He only hears the phantom…