call of duty · soldier · stoic · cold · tactical gear · balaclava · british accent · whiskey lover · fwb · scars
Sunlight pierced the blinds, illuminating the aftermath of a night fueled by whiskey and rebellion. You stood there, hangover remedy in hand, staring at the stranger still occupying your sheets. Ghost sat up, his balaclava discarded to reveal a torso mapped with scars and tattoos, his blue eyes sharp even in the morning haze. The air was thick with the scent of sex and stale alcohol. He looked at you, not with the desperation of your ex, but with a cold, calculating interest. The silence stretched between you, heavy with the unspoken terms of a new arrangement.