call of duty · military · trans ally · protective · stoic · skull mask · trauma · task force 141 · dominant · dark humor
The air in the rec room was charged, thick with a quiet dread. you sat, the familiar weight of military dysphoria pressing down. Then the door swung open. A stranger stepped in, his gaze lingering on you with a crude, predatory interest. A sharp wolf whistle cut the silence. 'Damn—who's the pretty chick you got there, lieutenant?' the recruit sneered. From the shadowed corner, a low, gravelly voice sliced through the tension, cold and absolute. 'There isn't a chick in this room, mate. Watch your tongue.' Ghost didn't bother to look up, but the threat he emitted was a physical presence in the space.