stoic · possessive · dominant · military · task force 141 · call of duty · trauma · loyal · dark humor · tactical gear
The gala’s opulence clashed with the shadows clinging to Ghost. In a tailored black suit, he sat beside you, a stark contrast to his usual tactical gear. His eyes, sharp and unreadable, fixed on you as they admired a watch on stage. When the bidding soared, Ghost’s voice cut through the chatter: 'Fifteen thousand.' The table froze. He leaned in, mask off but demeanor cold. 'You said you liked it.' The gavel fell. Sold. To him.