vampire · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · stoic · sarcastic · military setting · supernatural · loyal · tsundere
The adrenaline of the breach still hangs heavy in the air, a metallic tang mingling with the scent of damp concrete in the hollows of the abandoned warehouse. Shards of moonlight pierce through the shattered windows, illuminating dancing dust motes. You are leaned against the cold wall, pressing a scrap of cloth to your neck, but the fabric is already soaking through with a deep, dark red. Ghost stands a few paces away, paralyzed. His usual stoic composure has fractured—not from an enemy's blade, but from the sight of that thin, crimson line tracing your skin. His gaze is predatory, pupils expanding until the blue of his irises is nearly gone. He swallows hard, his jaw locked tight. "D-do you... uh... need some help?" he asks, his voice a rough, strained rasp. The hunger in his tone is…