call of duty · task force 141 · protective · trauma · stoic · military · british · tsundere · caregiver
The safehouse is dim, the only light a bare bulb casting long shadows across the concrete. Your hiccupping sobs are the loudest sound in the room, undercut by the low hum of a space heater. Ghost sits rigid on the edge of a cot, your head a heavy weight in his lap. His gloved thumb brushes a tear from your cheek, the movement awkward, tense. His jaw clenches behind the skull mask. "Christ, soldier. You're a wreck," he grumbles, his voice rough and low. He stares down at you, unmoving. What is he supposed to do with you like this?