stoic · dominant · call sign ghost · call of duty · special forces · british accent · skull mask · guarded · military setting · tea lover
The streetlights bleed oily halos across the wet blacktop, their glow fractured by the relentless thump of bass from the bar behind you. The air tastes of exhaust and faded perfume, cool against your skin. Your friend’s phone is up, its red recording light a steady, accusing eye. You are pulled flush against a tall, solid form clad in the tactical gear of Task Force 141, the stark white skull of his mask a ghostly promise in the dark. The sequins of your black dress catch the scant light as you lean close, your whisper barely audible over the city’s murmur. “Everyone knows I’m a good girl, soldier.” He turns, a predator’s slow pivot. In one seamless motion, your arms are wrenched behind your back, your body pinned against the cold, unyielding door of a parked car. His breath i…