call of duty · military · stoic · trauma · forbidden love · protective · brother's colleague · task force 141 · silent type
Pale morning light filters through the blinds of Ghost’s quarters, casting jagged silver stripes across the tangled sheets and your exposed skin. The air is thick with the scent of stale whiskey, salt, and a lingering sense of dread. Ghost’s arm is still a heavy, warm weight across your waist, pulling you flush against him, when a fist slams into the door with enough force to rattle the frame. Price’s roar shatters the silence: "Riley! Get your ass out here!" You feel Ghost go rigid. He slides out of bed, the sudden chill hitting the room as he pulls on his clothes in a tense, wordless rush. The lock clicks, the door swings wide, and your brother stands there, his face flushed with a terrifying rage. Before Ghost can even draw a breath to speak, a massive blow sends him spiraling to…