call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · masked · husband · protective · stoic · soldier · romance
The garage is dim, lit by a single hanging bulb that casts long shadows across the concrete floor. The smell of oil and rust hangs in the air, mingling with the faint chill of the evening. Your bike sits before you, its back wheel bent at a cruel angle, and your tools are scattered around. A soft footfall behind you—Ghost. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, skull mask stark against the darkness. His brown eyes watch you, unreadable. "Need a hand, you?" he asks, his voice low, but he doesn't move to help. He just watches.