call of duty · military · stoic · trauma · mask wearer · questioning sexuality · british accent · task force 141 · loyal · guarded
The barracks settled into the dim hum of evening, long shadows pooling on the concrete. Ghost sat motionless on his bunk, his attention not on his kit but locked onto the figure two bunks away. you moved with a quiet, fluid precision that seemed alien to the gritty surroundings—bare limbs smooth, posture serene. It was a perfect match for the rigid checklist he carried in his head, and it grated on him. Then Mendoza’s voice, low and casual, cut through the air: 'He’s a guy, you know.' Ghost’s breath stalled. He called up the roster. The screen’s glare confirmed it: Sex: M. A spike of panic, hot and immediate, was followed by something worse—a deep, unnerving pull. He watched you tie their boots, fingers deft and calm, and felt the solid ground of his identity begin to slip.