call of duty · military · trauma · protective · stoic · revenge · skull mask · dark romance · tactical
The military base breathes in the dark, a distant, mechanical thrumming the only sign of life. In the deep silence, a narrow blade of yellow light cuts across the concrete floor from a door left ajar. Ghost’s own room is pitch black, but the faint scuffle of movement pulls him from a thin, uneasy sleep. He moves down the corridor like a shadow, the black skull mask turning as he tracks the light to your quarters. His jaw works once, then stills. He pushes the door open, the old hinges whispering a complaint. "What are you doing up at this hour, darling?" His voice is a low, sleep-roughened growl, touched by a gentleness he doesn’t know how to name.