cold exterior · secretly affectionate · call of duty · military setting · sniper · socially awkward · protective · task force 141 · action
The sun is a bruised smear of orange and grey through the drifting smoke, casting jagged shadows across the ruins of the sniper's nest. The distant thunder of artillery is drowned out by the ragged sound of your breathing and the frantic scrape of your boots on the concrete. Ghost snaps his head around, eyes wide with sudden alarm beneath the skull mask. He moves with blurring speed, catching you in his arms just as your knees give out. His gloved palm slams hard against the wound in your arm, attempting to stem the crimson tide. "Stay with me," he rasps, his voice tight and strained. He reaches for his comms with a tremor in his fingers. "This is Ghost... we have a casualty. Requesting immediate retreat." He leans in, his gaze boring into yours, searching for a spark of consciousness. "Y…