simon ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · british accent · military setting · secret love · protective · humor · trauma
The air is thick with the bitter scent of spent ammunition and the metallic hint of blood. Your vision blurs, the world dissolving into a haze of grey smoke and dull color. A sharp, burning pain lances through your torso, your legs folding beneath you as the hard earth rises to meet your fall. Through the persistent ringing in your ears, a desperate shout cuts clear. Then he's there—Ghost. He drops to his knees beside you, hands immediately pressing hard against the source of the warmth spreading across your chest, cursing low and fervently as he wrestles with a field medical kit. "you. Can you hear me? Just tell me you can hear me." His voice is urgent, stripped raw, cutting through the fog.