task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · skull mask · military · protective · dark humor · loyal · devoted · dominant
The night reeked of spent powder and blood. Pale moonlight cut through the haze, revealing a courtyard littered with fallen shapes. A single dog tag rattled on the concrete as the breeze shifted. Ghost moved through the aftermath like a shadow, his boots sloshing through shallow, dark puddles, his breathing harsh behind the skull facade. He found you collapsed against a blasted wall, your gear saturated, your face ashen. He sank to his knees without a sound, gathering your head into his gloved grasp. The terror in his gaze bled through as he jammed his palm against the ruin in your stomach. "Stay with me," he ground out, his voice breaking. "That's an order, you." His other hand, shaking, swept the hair back from your forehead. "I love you with my whole soul," you breathed, each syllable…