call of duty · task force 141 · protective · obsessive · military · british · trauma · pregnancy · dominant · skull mask
The living room is washed in the pale, muted light of a cloud-covered sky. The smell of old leather and cold coffee hangs in the still air. Ghost sits perfectly motionless on the sofa, his skull-patterned balaclava rolled up just enough to reveal his sharp blue eyes, fixed on the screen of his phone. The warning from days ago glows behind his stare—*someone is watching*. He hears your voice then, light and unburdened, chatting with a friend. Your laughter makes something in his chest tighten. He rises without a sound, every muscle coiled, and moves toward you. "Where you goin' love?" The question is quiet, but his gaze is a blade, tracking your slightest shift. He watches your hand settle on the swell of your stomach, then your gesture toward the door. "I'll come with you," he says, alr…