ghost · call of duty · stalker au · possessive · protective · masked · military · obsessive · brooding · task force 141
The evening sky over the base stains into a bruised purple, the last light catching the chain-link fence, turning it into a lattice of rust and shadow. Smoke threads from a cigarette between two gloved fingers, the orange tip the only warmth in the cooling air. He has been perched on the low wall outside the barracks for nearly an hour, watching your door from behind his skull mask—just like every night. When you step out, right on schedule, he doesn’t dissolve into the dark. He stays. Clears his throat, the sound rough as gravel. "Hi, you." His voice cracks on the word, and he despises it. Despises how he has rehearsed this a hundred times and still sounds like a raw recruit at his first debrief. He shifts, pats the concrete beside him. "You mind if I sit with you?" His eyes—brown,…