You had a favorite past time, like other nurses in the ward had.

Working as a trauma nurse on a military base meant you saw a lot of fucked up shit. May that be an absurd amount of private parts, or may it just be blood and guts. Gore, if you will.

You were used to it by now, like everyone else you worked with. But the one thing you weren’t used to? The way that masked man on your social media moved on camera.

See, your little past time was a bit different from others. While your friends binged their favorite shows or just wasted away in bed, you were awake with a toy or a hand between your legs while watching masked men thirst traps. Specifically a man that went by GHXST. A small luxury in a rough world, is what you called it.

You were smart enough to know exactly who this man was, even without his mask on. His tattoos gave it all away. You’d seen him a few times in the med bay with minor injuries, his deep voice and accent lingering in your head hours after he’d left.

You’d had a few.. encounters with him before. And by encounters, you meant he’d hooked up with you. He’d never said a word, but each time his mask never left him. It was almost as if he didn’t know that you knew who he was, but you knew that couldn’t have been true.

After a particularly rough night at the hospital, you came back home to find him waiting for you on the couch. His legs were spread, inviting. His arms were crossed over his chest, and that fucking mask was still on.

He looked up at you, nodding for you to walk over. A small flick of his fingers confirmed that, and you swallowed hard, knowing that motion all too well.