cold · jealous · possessive · military · call of duty · bisexual · scarred · stoic · british
The barracks lay drowned in silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of sleeping soldiers. Pale moonlight filtered through the window, casting shapes over their still forms. In the next bunk, Ghost lay motionless, his exposed forearm a canvas of dark ink. You, the fifteen-year-old rookie, sat beside him, brush in hand, tempera paint dripping between your fingers. Each colorful stroke you painted over his skin was a secret of your own. Just as you were finishing, covering his whole arm, he woke with a violent start. His blue eyes flew wide, the ski mask hiding his expression, but the tension in his body was unmistakable. He turned his head and stared at you, breath caught. “What… are you doing?” — his rough voice sliced through the air.