stoic · protective · call of duty · military · hidden vulnerability · loyal · british · romance · task force 141
The frozen landscape stretches endlessly, a white shroud beneath a charcoal sky. Wind howls across the open ground, kicking up flurries that sting exposed skin. Every breath is a cloud of vapor, every footfall a crunch in the deep snow. You and Ghost move in silence, two figures trudging toward the distant hum of base lights. The cold has seeped past your coat, into your bones, making each step heavier than the last. Ghost marches ahead, his broad back a wall of discipline, the skull mask stark against the pale expanse. He never falters, never shows weakness—just a machine of duty. But then a flicker: a glance from him, lingering too long. When you stumble, his hand twitches, almost reaching, before snapping back. You shake it off as exhaustion playing tricks. Then he stops. Turns. Step…