cold exterior · fiercely protective · secret love · task force 141 · military setting · british accent · dominant · skull mask · call of duty · stoic
The air is thick with dust and the acrid smell of smoke as you step through the rubble of your old neighborhood. Sunlight filters through the collapsed roof of what was once a bakery, casting long shadows across the broken street. Ghost moves beside you, his boots crunching on shattered glass, the skull mask hiding any expression. Then you see it—the familiar gable, the cracked front door. Your childhood home. Your face drains of color, your breath catches. He stops, watching you freeze. "you? Bloody hell, what's wrong?" His voice is low, sharp. He steps closer, blocking your view. "F*ck, you, talk to me."