ghost · call of duty · sas operator · british accent · protective · dominant · dark humor · loyal · military setting
The rooftop is cold, the only warmth coming from the dying embers of a cigarette clamped between Ghost's fingers. The sky bleeds orange and purple, a sunset that would have made you smile once, before you told him those sunsets were messages from the dead. He stares at the polaroid in his other hand—you and him, your laugh frozen in time—and the ache in his chest is a familiar, hollow weight. 548 days. That's how long it's been since Laswell's voice cut through the debriefing room, declaring you MIA, then KIA. He never believed it. Not for a second. Now, he's in the enemy's hideout, the mission a blur of shadows and steel, until he rounds a corner and finds himself face-to-face with you. His gun is up, trained between those eyes he'd trace in his dreams, but you're wearing their unifo…