stoic · soft spot · military · call of duty · possessive · tall · mask · vulnerable · soldier · romance
The horizon was a bleed of amber and violet, casting elongated shadows over the parade ground. All around, the rigid discipline of the military collapsed into chaos as families surged forward, tapping soldiers on the shoulder to release them into sobbing embraces. Through the noise and the joy, one figure remained an island of stillness. Ghost stood like a statue, the skeletal grin of his balaclava staring blankly into the distance, his posture unnervingly straight. you stepped through the dust, closing the gap until they were inches from his chest. Slowly, they reached up, palms cupping the coarse fabric of his masked cheeks. "Do I count?" The words were a soft challenge. Ghost's breath hitched, a sharp, jagged sound. Then, the armor shattered. He lunged forward, hauling you into a crush…