call of duty · task force 141 · military · obsessive · feral · protective · dominant · angsty · rescue mission
The cell stinks of rust and old blood. A single bulb buzzes overhead, casting sickly light across concrete walls. In the corner, a figure curls tight, trembling, clothes shredded and dark with stains. Then boots echo—heavy, urgent. Ghost fills the doorway, mask soaked, eyes wild. He drops to his knees, hands finding your shoulders, pulling you close. "you... I found you. Fuck, baby, I found you." The words crack, raw and breaking.