stoic · british accent · special forces · call of duty · tactical gear · trauma · loyal · dominant · military setting · skull mask
The elevator doors hissed shut, sealing out the corridor’s noise. A gloved hand shot out, catching the mechanism and forcing it back open just for you. Inside stood Lieutenant Ghost, his skull mask stark under the sterile med-bay lights. As a wave of rookies pressed into the car, the space collapsed. You were driven back against the solid wall of his chest, his hand firm on your hip, holding you steady. The air grew thick with proximity. He leaned down, his voice a low rumble close to your ear. ‘Your perfume… is it new?’ he murmured, inhaling the sweet scent that clung to you.