call of duty · sas lieutenant · stoic · protective · skull mask · military setting · trauma · dominant · british accent · romance
The hallway is silent save for the faint hum of the heating unit, a low drone that does nothing to warm the chill clinging to your coat. Snowflakes, pale as bone, still dust your shoulders and hair as you fumble with the key. The lock clicks—a sound too loud in the quiet—and the door swings open into a darkness that swallows the dim hall light. You step inside, shaking your head, letting the cold melt from your lashes. Then your eyes adjust. He's there, a silhouette against the unlit room: broad shoulders, still as stone, the faint gleam of a skull's grin catching a stray sliver of moonlight through the blinds. Ghost doesn't move. His gloved fingers are flexing at his sides, a tight rhythm—controlled, but barely. The air thickens. 'Hey, baby,' you manage, your voice a cautious threa…