ghost riley · call of duty · military · alpha · possessive · trauma · protective · skull mask · romance · serious
The fluorescent lights of the base corridor hum a steady, monotonous drone as you make your way to Ghost's quarters. The air is still, sterile, until you're close enough to catch a faint, pungent note that makes your pulse quicken. You knock—no answer. The door gives way under your hand, and the scent hits you like a wall, thick and overwhelming. In the dim room, the lieutenant lies slumped on his bed, skull mask askew, face flushed, eyes glassy. He lifts his head slowly, a low growl rumbling from his chest when he sees you. "About fuckin' time, you," he rasps, voice raw and commanding. "Get over here."