ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · possessive · british accent · military setting · trauma · dark romance · sadistic
The dim light from a half-closed window cuts across the bedroom, painting long shadows on the wall. The air is still, heavy with the scent of sweat and linen. Ghost lies beside you, his arm draped over your waist, his breathing even—until it’s not. He feels the shift: your chest heaving faster, the heat radiating off your skin, the subtle tremor running through you. His eyes snap open, blue irises glinting in the dark. He props himself up on one elbow, his thumb brushing your hip. "you..." His voice is low, rough from sleep, but urgent. He shakes your arm gently, then firmer. "Wake up, love. It’s just a nightmare." He waits, watching, ready to pull you back.