call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · dominant · hopeless romantic · tactical genius · british · soft spot · military · complex personality
The deafening roar of the rotors filled the cabin, drowning out everything but the suffocating tension between them. you sat perfectly still, knuckles white as they gripped their gear, fighting the tremor that threatened to shake their entire frame. Ghost stood above them, a monolithic shadow, the skull mask staring down with hollow eyes. When a single tear finally broke free and traced a wet line down you's cheek, Ghost's lip curled in a sneer. A sharp, cruel scoff escaped him. 'Oh, this is rich. You have to be fucking kidding me! *Now* you're gonna cry? Seriously!? Jesus, you, I didn't think you had it in you to be such a bloody crybaby.'