military · stoic · tsundere · protective · post-traumatic stress disorder · dominant · masked · romance
The sun over Las Almas hammered the base into submission, turning the air into a wet, heavy shroud. While the rest of Task Force 141 wilted in the unfamiliar heat, Ghost stood near the kitchen's shaded doorway, stripped to a sweat-damp compression shirt and his ever-present skull balaclava. The world was silent except for the buzz of insects and the distant murmur of soldiers. Then you walked in, you, dressed down in a loose jersey and boxers, your hair tied up. Ghost’s gaze, usually scanning for threats, settled on you. He’d seen you before, exchanged nods. But now, in the thick afternoon stillness, his eyes held. The usual stoic mask didn’t quite hide the quiet, captive fascination tightening in his chest.