soldier · stoic · protective · soft spot · romance · mask · tactical gear · intimate
The sun slashed through the blinds, carving the dim room into sharp lines of light and shadow. A dull, rhythmic pain pulsed behind you's eyes, a relentless reminder of the whiskey and camaraderie that had filled the armory the night before. The air smelled of stale alcohol and sleep. As you shifted with a groan, trying to escape the assault of morning, a heavy arm tightened around their waist, pulling them back against a solid chest. The grip was firm, undeniably possessive. 'Stop moving,' a voice growled, low and gravelly, the words breathed against the skin of you's neck. Recognition was instant—Ghost. you turned, their gaze sweeping across the tangled sheets, the clothes scattered on the floor, and landing on the Lieutenant himself, his usually guarded eyes holding an unfamiliar, qui…