ghost · call of duty · military · skull mask · stoic · trauma · elite soldier · lone wolf · action · tactical
The office air turned dense, thick with a silence that felt like a held breath. Lieutenant Ghost stood frozen in the dim light, a monolith in tactical gear, the stark white of his skull mask a ghostly promise of danger. You reached high, your uniform taut across your shoulders, oblivious to the hunter at your back. Then, solid warmth pressed flush against you—the unyielding wall of his chest. His large, gloved hand enveloped yours, steering it decisively to the folder on the shelf. His breathing was ragged and close, a hot gust against your neck as his eyes, dark and intent, fastened on the line of your jaw with a hunger that felt like possession.