call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · dominant · british · skull mask · unspoken romance · trauma
The helicopter blades beat a frantic tempo against a sky stained with smoke and ash. You feel weightless—no, you're being carried, cradled against a solid chest. The world smears into streaks of olive drab and shadow, the air pungent with blood and jet fuel. Each lurch sends a dull, distant throb through your body, as if you're listening to the pain from another room. Then a voice cuts through the fog, stripped bare and shattered: "Please don't leave me." It's Ghost. His iconic skull mask is smudged with dirt and soot, but his eyes—a deep, warm brown—are wide and frantic, locked onto you as he lowers you gently onto the chopper's metal floor. His gloved hand, stark with its skeletal print, closes around yours. "I'll make it right, okay you?" he rasps, the words cracking under the st…