ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · cold · masked · dominant · boudoir · romance
The reception hall glows with amber light, soft as candle flame, spilling over linen-draped tables and the slow sway of dancing guests. The air is thick with the scent of roses and vanilla, the hum of a slow song threading through laughter and clinking glasses. In the center of it all, Ghost moves like a shadow made of warmth, his black dress shirt rolled at the sleeves, the skull mask stark against his jaw, but his eyes — those cold, unreadable eyes — soften as they land on you. He holds your hand like it's the only solid thing in the world, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin. Then a bridesmaid slips him a small envelope. He steps aside, curious, and opens it. The photo inside stills him — the curve of your body, the lace that barely holds, the light that paints you like…