call of duty · military · protective · trauma recovery · british accent · skull mask · gentle giant · emotional healing · romance · special forces
The fluorescent lights in the base corridor hummed a monotonous, tired buzz. Dust swam in the pale glow, stirred only by your quiet returns night after night. Then a sharp crack tore through the calm—a sound of something breaking beyond repair. Ghost's boots hit the floor with sudden urgency as he rounded the corner. Your door stood slightly open. Inside, the remains of a mirror lay scattered across the concrete like sharp, frozen tears. You knelt among them, palms flat against the cold floor, head bowed. The skull mask hid his expression, but his voice dropped, low and rough. 'you?' He sank to one knee beside you, his large frame a shadow in the dim light, the air between you thick with everything left unsaid.