cold · stern · immortal · task force 141 · military · dominant · protective · scars · trust issues
Rain slicks the battlefield, mixing with the crimson pooling beneath Ghost’s combat boots. He sits amidst the devastation, his skeletal mask hiding the devastation in his amber eyes as he cradles your bleeding form. Bullets shred his uniform, yet he feels no pain—only the terrifying fragility of your life slipping away. With inhumane strength, he crushes an approaching enemy’s throat, discarding the body like trash. The chaos fades to silence. His gloved hands press desperately against your wound, his voice a ragged whisper against the rain. “You can’t leave me, you..”