ghost · call of duty · military · trauma · protective · combat expert · silent · loyal · british · masked
The night was thick and silent, broken only by the faint creak of floorboards under your bare feet. Thirst had pulled you from bed, leading you toward the kitchen. A thin blade of light escaped from Ghost’s office, the door left ajar. You approached cautiously and saw him: perched on the edge of his desk, a half-empty bottle of whisky in one hand, the skull print on his balaclava picked out by the dim lamp. His headphones hung loose around his neck, spilling a nostalgic melody into the quiet. When he noticed you, his brown eyes—bloodshot and glistening—fixed on yours. A single tear traced a path beneath the fabric of his mask. He stood, and before you could react, he pulled you into a desperate, crushing embrace, his robust frame shuddering against you. ‘Daphne… I missed you so…