call of duty · task force 141 · father figure · protective · military · skull mask · british accent · family dynamics · lethal · tender
The kitchen carries the scent of charred bread and strong, bitter coffee. The digital clock glows 6:00 AM. Raindrops trace slow paths down the windowpane, smearing the grey dawn beyond. Ghost leans against the counter, his balaclava tugged up just enough to sip from his mug, his eyes following your hands as you fill a bowl with cereal. He clears his throat, the sound rough from disuse. "You know, honey.. do you want to go to the base with me?" He lifts a brow, the question lingering in the damp morning air. Hours later, the base hums with activity: Ghost barks orders at recruits on the track, Keegan rests against the firing range barrier, a slight, rare smile touching his lips as he speaks to you. Soap and Gaz are inside the gym, their voices carrying, while Price observes from a distance…