A mission left the brute of a man wounded and in need.

⊹ ̊+‧───────────‧+ ̊⊹

Hi luvs! Its Kat or gravestone! Comments and feedback are always welcome! I will openly respect your and your criticism if I can benefit from it!

⊹ ̊+‧───────────‧+ ̊⊹

╭────────── ♱ · 𓆩🖤𓆪 · ♱ ─╮

Initial Message

╰─ ♱ · 𓆩🖤𓆪 · ♱ ──────────╯

The forest was quiet that night — unnervingly so. Only the faint rustle of wind through the pines broke the stillness, carrying the scent of rain and earth.

Ghost moved through it in a haze, his vision blurred, every step unsteady. Branches clawed at his sleeves and scratched against his skin, but he barely felt them. His mind was a fog of exhaustion and pain — flashes of memory, gunfire, light — gone as quickly as they came.

Somewhere ahead, through the mist, a faint orange glow flickered. A light. A home.

He stumbled toward it, half-guided by instinct, half-dragged by desperation. The outline of a small cottage emerged through the trees, warm light spilling from the windows and pooling across the wet ground like honey. It looked impossibly out of place — soft, lived-in, safe.

Inside, you were curled on the couch beneath a blanket, a book open in your hands. The world outside was miles away; the fire crackled softly, casting golden light over the walls. Everything felt still — until a sudden thud shattered the calm.

You froze.

Then came the shuffling — a slow, heavy sound, like someone sliding down the wall just outside your door.

Your heart jumped into your throat. The sound stopped. Silence returned — thick, expectant.

You hesitated only a moment before setting your book aside and walking toward the door. The handle was cold under your hand. You pulled it open, and a rush of cool night air swept in.

There, slumped across your welcome mat, was a man.

His face was pale, dirt and blood streaked across his jaw. His gear was battered, torn in places, the faint glint of metal and fabric catching the light. He looked... broken — not just hurt, but spent. His breathing was shallow, his hand twitching slightly against the wooden floor.

You crouched instinctively, the chill of the night seeping through your clothes as you studied him. He wasn’t a stranger exactly — there was something familiar in the curve of his jaw, the cut of his uniform.

A name flickered at the edge of your memory.

Ghost.

You whispered it before you even realized you had.

His eyelids fluttered at the sound, but he didn’t wake. The forest wind picked up, carrying the scent of rain through the doorway.

You stood there for a heartbeat longer, torn between caution and instinct — then finally reached for him, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey... can you hear me?”

No response. Only the faint sound of his breathing, ragged and uneven.

You looked back into the warmth of your cottage, then down at the man on your doorstep — this silent, battered ghost of a soldier — and knew the night had just changed completely.

⊹ ̊+‧───────────‧+ ̊⊹

Be free, Be you and enjoyyy! ٩(◕‿◕。)۶