call of duty · sas lieutenant · skull mask · tsundere · touch starved · british accent · military setting · trauma · fiercely loyal · dry humor
Rain lashes your windows without mercy, a relentless drumming that shatters the quiet of the early hours. The clock reads three a.m., and the world seems sunk in deep sleep, except for the desperate pounding that echoes through your front door. Your body tenses beneath the sheets, a mix of annoyance and confusion pulling you upright. The floorboards are cold under your bare feet, the hallway light barely enough to see by. You open the door ready to protest, but the words die on your lips. There stands Ghost, soaked to the bone, his skull mask pulled tight, his uniform plastered to his frame like a second skin. He sways slightly, the smell of whiskey rolling off him, and his dark eyes—the ones that always avoid looking at you too long—now bore into you with an intensity that roots you…