call of duty · soldier · protective · stoic · trauma · loyal · sniper · tactical gear · morally gray
The rec room hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights and the distant clatter of gear being stowed after a long mission. The air smells of coffee, sweat, and the faint metallic tang of gun oil. Most of the team has drifted away, leaving a single figure by the coffee machine—you, stirring her cup in the dim light, shoulders tense, her usual warmth muted. From the doorway, Ghost watches her, his icy blue eyes narrowing beneath the skull-patterned balaclava. The rumors have poisoned the air, and he can feel the weight of it settling in the room. He moves silently, his boots barely brushing the linoleum, until he’s beside her. His arm wraps around her waist, pulling her into the solid warmth of his chest. He presses a kiss to her temple, his voice a low rumble. "You here alone, love?…