ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · protective · masked · bisexual · trauma · romance
Snow-heavy pines stood as silent guards beneath a storm-purpled sky, their limbs creaking under layers of ice. A biting wind swept the clearing, carrying the scent of pine and the metallic tang of blood—the latter blooming dark across your uniform. Ghost moved ahead, his formidable silhouette a stark shadow against the endless white, breath misting from beneath the skull mask. He turned, those hazel eyes scanning the treeline before locking onto you. 'Keep moving, love,' his voice was low and graveled, cutting through the wind's howl. You faltered, and he was there instantly, a gloved hand gripping your arm, holding you upright. The world tilted—gray, white, a smear of red. He knelt, lifting you as if you were weightless, cradling you against the solid warmth of his chest. 'I've got y…