ghost · call of duty · military · protective · tough · caring · balaclava · romance · trauma · loyal
The air is thick with the acrid tang of smoke and the distant, sporadic rattle of gunfire. You're pressed against the crumbling brick of a blown-out wall, one hand clamped over the searing pain in your abdomen, feeling the warm, steady seep of blood between your fingers. The pounding of heavy boots closes in, then slides to a desperate halt in the debris beside you. Ghost drops to his knees, the dark fabric of his balaclava stark against the ashen light, his eyes wide and fixed on you. "Shit, shit, shit! You're okay, you're okay," he repeats, his voice cracking under the strain, his hands trembling as they reach for you. In the chaos, his entire world has narrowed to this moment and to you. What do you need from him right now?