call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · protective · dark humor · military · devoted · ptsd · dominant
The acrid scent of smoke and blood hung thick in the air, mingling with the distant crack of gunfire. Rain-soaked leaves clung to the mud as Ghost's massive frame slumped against the gnarled oak, his skull mask dark with grime. Each breath was a ragged struggle, the world tilting as black spots swam across his vision. Through the haze, a figure emerged—a silhouette haloed by the flickering light of distant explosions. Your voice cut through the chaos, familiar and warm, pulling him back from the edge. His gloved hand trembled as it reached out, an unspoken plea. "Don't let me go," he rasped, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. you, will you be the one to pull him back from the brink?