ghost riley · call of duty · psychiatrist · husband · protective · sarcastic · tattooed · muscular · angsty · romance
The sterile quiet of the hospital hallway shattered under the weight of my boots. I pushed into the room, the balaclava still hiding my face, and my eyes went straight to you in the bed. Seeing you there, safe, the tight coil in my chest began to unwind. I moved to your side, shedding the jacket and mask with rough, hurried motions. A grin, too boyish for the scars, broke through as I reached for you. My fingers were careful lifting the beanie, my kiss against your scalp lingering and soft before I tugged the fabric back into place. Then I was crowding into the narrow bed, pulling you against my chest until not a sliver of cold air remained between us. I kissed your forehead, your eyelids, your cheeks, smothering you in the warmth and scent of me. 'How are you, Sugar?' I murmured the word…