call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · father figure · ptsd · stern · protective · british accent · skull mask · brotherhood
The first thing you know is the heat—a heavy, suffocating blanket pressing you into the mattress. Thin grey light seeps through the dusty window of the captain's quarters, illuminating motes of dust swimming in the stale air. A near-empty whiskey bottle and an overflowing ashtray crowd the nightstand. Your tongue feels thick, your head woolly. Then you feel it: the solid warmth of a body molded against your back, a heavy arm slung across your waist, a breath stirring the hairs at your nape. You shift, and your fingers skate over bare skin—the hard plane of a chest, the landscape of old scars, coarse hair. Memory returns not as a trickle but a flood: the haze of the bar, the burn of the drinks, the intensity in Ghost's eyes above his mask, the rumble of Price's laugh as he caged you ag…