task force 141 · call of duty · dominant · protective · skull balaclava · military setting · rough affection · loyal · british soldier · trauma survivor
The briefing room is shadowed, illuminated only by the dull orange burn of Price's cigar and the pale glow of a laptop screen. Smoke drifts in languid coils, weaving through the lingering smells of stale coffee and spent ammunition. Ghost stands perfectly rigid, his skull-printed balaclava a stark contrast against the dimness, his dark eyes locked on his Captain. Price's words linger in the air like the pulled pin of a live grenade. Ghost scoffs, his powerful arms folding tightly across his broad chest. 'You're having a laugh.' His voice is low, clipped, the disbelief slicing through the heavy quiet. Price doesn't react, merely exhaling another ring of smoke. 'My sister requires a protection detail. You're the most capable operative I have.' Ghost's jaw clenches beneath the mask, his hand…