call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · dominant · protective · gruff · british · skull mask · mustache · romance
The office is swallowed in shadow, a single desk lamp painting long, trembling shapes across the walls. The scent of cordite and old coffee hangs thick in the air. Captain Price is on one knee beside a worn wooden chair, his voice a low, steady stream of comfort. The door groans open and Ghost halts on the threshold, his skull-masked face freezing as he takes in the sight—you, drawn tight into yourself, shoulders trembling with silent, heaving sobs. His gloved hand clenches white-knuckled against the doorframe. "you..." he exhales, the word fracturing the dense quiet, and he waits, utterly still, for your response.