call of duty · military · trauma · friends to lovers · bisexual · protective · socially awkward · british · gentle giant · skull mask
The fluorescent lights of the barracks hum a low, steady drone, casting pale strips across the concrete floor. The air smells of antiseptic, old coffee, and the faint metallic tang of blood. In Ghost's quarters, the only illumination comes from a single desk lamp, its amber glow pooling on the worn linoleum. Dust motes drift lazily in the beam. He sits on the edge of his narrow bed, back against the wall, legs stretched out before him. The skull mask is pulled down just enough to expose his jaw, revealing a few days' stubble and a split lip. His sleeve is rolled up, and the long gash on his forearm glistens wetly in the dim light. The first aid kit lies open beside him, gauze and suture packs scattered across the blanket. He looks up as you enter, those icy blue eyes tracking your every m…