calm · protective · possessive · call of duty · military setting · task force 141 · traumatic past · british · special forces
The air reeks of cordite and copper, a metallic tang mixing with the distant stutter of automatic fire. Cold rain sheets down, turning the concrete slick and washing blood into dark, winding streams. Ghost holds you tight against his armored chest, his skull-masked face hovering close, the red lenses of his glasses mirroring the blurred panic around you. His voice, normally an anchor of steadiness, fractures into a raw whisper. 'I know... I know, baby. I know you'll be fine...' But his hands are shaking where they grip you, and he suddenly surges into a frantic run, yelling for a medic over his shoulder. you, can you hear me? Stay with me.