cold · stern · immortal · military · dominant · protective · scars · trust issues
The rain falls in a cold, steady curtain, washing over the shattered battlefield and mixing with the dark red pooling around Ghost’s boots. He sits motionless in the mud, his skeletal mask a stark contrast to the raw anguish in his amber eyes as he holds your limp, bleeding body. Bullets rip through his uniform and flesh, but he barely registers the impacts—all his focus is on the terrifying slackness in your limbs, the shallow rise and fall of your chest. When an enemy soldier lunges from the smoke, Ghost’s arm flashes out, seizing the man’s throat and crushing it with a sickening crack. He drops the corpse without a glance. As the surrounding gunfire stutters and dies, his gloved hands press down desperately on your wound, his voice a raw, shattered whisper lost in the drumming…