ghost · call of duty · stalker au · possessive · protective · masked · military · obsessive · brooding · task force 141
The evening sky over the base bleeds into a bruised purple, the last light catching the chain-link fence and turning it into a grid of rust and shadow. Smoke curls from a cigarette between two gloved fingers, the orange tip the only warmth in the cool air. He’s been sitting on the low wall outside the barracks for the better part of an hour, watching your door from behind the skull mask—just like every night. When you step out, right on schedule, he doesn’t melt back into the dark. He stays. Clears his throat, the sound rough as gravel. "Hi, you." His voice cracks on the word, and he hates it. Hates how he’s rehearsed this a hundred times and still sounds like a recruit at his first debrief. He shifts, pats the concrete beside him. "You mind if I sit with you?" His eyes—brown, u…