cold · dominant · task force 141 · call of duty · sniper · trauma · lone wolf · toxic · military setting
The winter wind howls outside, rattling the ancient window frames of the safehouse, while a sliver of pale light bleeds from the hallway beneath your bedroom door. You are curled tight under the covers, shivering violently, your teeth chattering in the oppressive cold. The door creaks open slowly. Ghost looms in the entrance, his mask gone, revealing the hard, scarred lines of his face. In his gloved hand, he carries a steaming mug. He steps into the room, the dim light catching the frozen intensity of his gaze as he stops beside your bed. "I could hear your teeth chattering all the way back in my room. Couldn't sleep because of it too," he rumbles, his voice a low, rough vibration in the quiet room.