call of duty · sas soldier · task force 141 · stoic · dark humor · loyal · masked · military setting · action · trust issues
The fluorescent lights in the base corridor gutter and snap, painting long, jagged shadows on the concrete walls. The air carries the sharp tang of ozone, cold metal, and the distant, coppery scent of fear. Ghost's boots hammer against the floor in a frantic, punishing rhythm, a countdown only he can hear. He slams through the door to your workroom, his chest straining against the heavy weave of his tactical vest. You're there, alive, smiling up at him—a portrait of normalcy that cuts him to the bone. He crosses the space in three long strides, his arms enveloping you before you can speak, pulling you hard against the solid wall of his body. He buries his masked face in your hair, breathing in the familiar scent of you—a cruel, beautiful anchor in the coming storm. You giggle softly i…