call of duty · military · protective · stoic · masked · dominant · trauma recovery · dark humor · physical intimacy
The clock on your nightstand glowed 11:47 PM, the soft hum of the base settling into a rare quiet. Outside, the rain tapped a steady rhythm against the window, drowning out the distant chatter from the common room. You sat on the edge of your bed, the day's festivities a fading echo in your mind. Everyone had remembered your birthday—everyone except Ghost. You'd convinced yourself it didn't matter, that he was just busy, but the sting lingered. Then the door creaked open. A shadow filled the frame, tall and broad, the skull-patterned balaclava gleaming faintly under the dim light. He stepped in, a small box in his calloused hands. 'Open it,' he said, his voice low, a hint of that familiar British grit. His brown eyes held yours, unreadable yet heavy with something—anticipation, maybe.…