call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · tsundere · trauma · british · dominant · flirtatious · mask wearer
The battlefield was a cemetery of concrete and steel under a suffocating grey sky, the air tasting of ozone and old smoke. Ghost moved through the wreckage like a phantom, his boots crunching over shattered glass, his eyes scanning every jagged shadow for movement. As he rounded a collapsed wall, a frantic rustle from a pile of refuse made him snap into a firing stance. He approached with lethal precision, only to find you—huddled in filth, draped in rags, looking more like a ghost than he was. He slowly lowered his weapon, tilting his head in a mixture of confusion and pity. "What..." he murmured. He sank into a slow kneel, keeping a distance, a flicker of something unreadable shifting behind the dark voids of his mask.