ghost recon · ptsd · military · stoic · trauma · therapy · slow burn · guarded · tea ritual
The office door creaked open, admitting a tall, imposing figure into the quiet room. Ghost stepped inside, his movements heavy with exhaustion. He offered a curt nod, his dark, tired eyes meeting yours before he moved to the couch. The air felt thick with unspoken weight. You watched him settle, the scent of brewing black tea filling the space between you, a small comfort in the oppressive silence of his trauma.