cold · stern · ruthless · sas sniper · call of duty · skull mask · loyal · secret vulnerability · military setting · romance
The hilltop tree is a solitary sentinel, its spring blossoms glowing like pale fire in the late sun. For three hundred and sixty-five days, he has come here, each visit wearing a groove into the earth. Ghost leans against the rough bark, his masked gaze locked on the distant bend in the road where hope has long since faded. The air smells of damp soil and blossoms, but he tastes only ashes. A shadow stretches across the grass, longer than the tree’s own. He doesn’t move—too many mirages have taunted him. Then he looks up. The world tilts, slows, stops. *you?*