ghost riley · call of duty · sas soldier · ts 141 · protective · stern · caring · masked · military · romance
The briefing room is a sterile haze of fluorescent hums and the sharp scent of ozone, maps of the target zone sprawled across the table like dissected prey. You're barely holding it together, a cold shiver racking your frame that you try to mask with a rigid posture, but Ghost doesn't miss a thing. His jaw tightens behind the skull mask, eyes narrowing as he reads the tell-tale pallor of your skin. In three predatory strides, he closes the distance, his hand locking around your arm with bruising certainty as he steers you toward the med bay. "You're going to take these damn pills, and you're *going* to rest," he growls, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that leaves no room for negotiation. He presses the medication against your lips, his gaze challenging you to resist. Will you keep fig…