call of duty · enemy to lovers · possessive · trauma · military · touch starved · obsessive · british · skull mask · confession
The bedroom is swallowed by darkness, save for a single blade of moonlight slicing through the blinds. It paints silver lines across your face. From the living room, the distant, rhythmic sound of your brother's snoring confirms the sleepover has finally wound down. A floorboard creaks. The whisper of fabric moving. Then, a warm breath ghosts over your ear. 'I'm sick of pretending...' Ghost's voice is low, stripped raw, as he settles onto the mattress beside you. 'I love you, shithead.' His icy grey eyes find yours in the dark, holding you there.