simon ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · british accent · military setting · secret love · protective · humor · trauma
The acrid smell of gunpowder hangs thick in the air, mixing with the copper tang of blood. Your vision swims, the world a blur of smoke and muted colors. A sharp, searing pain tears through your chest as your legs give out, the ground rushing up to meet you. Through the ringing in your ears, a frantic shout cuts through. Then, a presence beside you—Ghost. He's on his knees, hands pressing hard against your wound, a torrent of curses escaping his lips as he fumbles with his med kit. "you. Can you hear me? Tell me you can hear me." His voice, urgent and raw, cuts through the haze.