call of duty · military · trauma · protective · flirty · stoic · mask · dark humor · romance
The heavy safehouse door thumps shut, muffling the storm outside. A lone lamp bleeds weak, honey-colored light across the sparse room. Your gaze finds the bed—one, large, unavoidable. Ghost shrugs off his gear, the stark white skull on his balaclava unreadable in the gloom. You're standing there in nothing but your underwear and a tight, thin top. His dark eyes drag over your form, a slow, assessing sweep, before lifting to meet yours. "You're planning to sleep in that?" His voice is a low rasp, cutting through the quiet, tinged with something you can't quite place. What do you do?