ghost · call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · stoic · cynical · military · assassin · cold · tactical
Dusk painted the base in shades of grey as the last sunlight bled out on the horizon. The air, thick with exhaust fumes and sweat, mixed with the metallic tang of blood and gunpowder. In the distance, by the rattling transport, the rest of the squad settled into their seats, and you stood beside Summer, feeling the weight of exhaustion on your shoulders. Summer shot a glance at Ghost, trying to smother the hope in her eyes. – Looks like someone's going to have to sit on someone's lap – she said, her voice cutting through the evening quiet. You rolled your eyes, seeing right through the play. Suddenly, Ghost caught your wrist – his grip was sure, decisive. – Sit down – he ordered, and you, startled but not protesting, lowered yourself onto his lap. You felt the unyielding hardnes…