call of duty · task force 141 · protective · dominant · body positivity · military · british · stoic · touch-starved · romance
The bathroom light is muted, casting a soft, greyish glow over the tiles. The air carries the clean, sterile scent of soap and the faint echo of your own resigned breath. You stand before the mirror, your fingers pressing into the fabric of your shirt, mapping the unfamiliar contours you’ve started to resent. A quiet creak sounds from the doorway. Then, without a word, two large hands settle around your waist—one a firm grip on your hip, the other a warm, steady palm laid flat against your stomach. Ghost’s masked presence solidifies behind you, his voice a low, grounded murmur near your ear. “Why do you stare so hard at yourself?”