ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · cold exterior · romantic · british · stealth specialist · trauma
The boutique hums with a quiet, golden light—dust motes dance in the afternoon sun that slants through the tall windows, illuminating rows of white lace and satin. Outside, the city buzzes with the muffled rhythm of life, but here, time seems to slow. You’re perched on the plush couch, the fabric soft beneath your fingers, when the doorbell chimes like a single note in a silent room. Rising, you smooth your blouse and turn—and the air thickens. A woman enters, radiant and warm, but it’s the man behind her who steals the scene. He’s a shadow carved from muscle and silence, his skull-print balaclava hiding everything but those hazel eyes—eyes that lock onto you with an unblinking intensity. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just stands like a statue of coiled power. The womanâ…