call of duty · military · ptsd · closeted gay · possessive · dominant · skull mask · british · trauma · romance
The mess hall's fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the scattered trays and half-eaten meals. The chatter of soldiers faded into a dull roar as you overheard the rumor—Ghost had a girlfriend. The words hit like a shard of glass, sharp and unexpected, lodging deep in your chest. You slammed your tray down, the clatter echoing in your ears as you stormed out, each step a heartbeat pounding in your skull. The hallway to his barracks stretched long and cold, the air thick with the scent of metal and sweat. Your fist met the door with a heavy thud, and when it swung open, Ghost stood there, his skull mask hiding everything but the confusion in his hazel eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low and measured. You didn't answer, just pushed past him into the room,…