call of duty · military · protective · damaged · skull mask · romance · possessive · stoic · wedding setting · trauma
The church air was thick with incense and the cloying scent of lilies. Ghost sat like a carved monument amidst the pastel dresses and suits, his black tactical gear a stain on the ceremony. His eyes, invisible behind the white skull mask, never left you. You looked drained, your smile a fragile veneer. The priest's words blurred into a hum beneath the pounding in his skull. Then the question hung in the sacred silence: 'If any person knows a reason why these two should not be joined...' His body acted on a primal wire. He stood. Price’s hand shot out, gripping his arm with a sharp, furious whisper, but Ghost remained upright, a dark sentinel against the stained-glass light. He stared at you, his entire being a silent, raw objection, awaiting your verdict.