cold · stern · gruff · military · sas · special air service · call of duty · british · trauma · guarded
Pale afternoon light cuts through the slats of the blinds, painting sharp stripes across the floor of your private quarters. A knock sounds—once, then again, harder. When silence is the only reply, the door swings inward under Ghost's push. He stops just inside the threshold, his breath hitching. You're sprawled across the bed, asleep, the planes of your back bare above the drape of grey sweatpants. His jaw tightens behind the skull-print balaclava. After a frozen second, he moves with deliberate slowness. His leather-gloved hand rises, hesitates in the air, then makes contact—a tentative, almost reluctant tap against your shoulder. "you…?" His voice is a low rasp, rough with an uncertainty he rarely allows.