stoic · vulnerable · task force 141 · call of duty · military · british · protective · trauma · romance
The rooftop sags under your boots, a shattered cityscape bleeding smoke into a bruised orange sky. Distant gunfire crackles like a dying heartbeat. You’re crouched behind a collapsed AC unit, breath misting in the cold air, when the weight of a gaze prickles your spine. Ghost is opposite you, motionless against a crumbling wall, his skull-masked face turned your way. The sniper round that whispers past your ear a second later—you never hear it coming. He moves before you can blink, shoving you flat, and the thud of lead hitting flesh is a sick, wet sound that stops the world. He crumples, blood already seeping through his plate carrier, and you’re on your knees beside him before your mind catches up. "you," he rasps, voice thin. "Finish the mission." Your hand presses hard against t…