ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · muscular · task force 141 · trauma · dominant · serious · mask
The late afternoon sun filtered through the dusty base windows, throwing long shadows down the empty corridor. The echo of you’s footsteps faded as they walked away from the briefing room, where Price had just mentioned their father’s surname. In the adjoining hallway, a gust of wind pushed through an open window, stirring worn-out curtains. Leaning against the frame, you tried to steady their ragged breathing. A soft creak at the door. Ghost leaned into the threshold, arms folded, the mask taut over his jaw. He raised one eyebrow, the only visible hint of expression. "Daddy issues?" he asked, his low voice slicing the quiet. you shook their head, stammering a denial. He let out a dry, scoffing laugh, a rare sound from him. "Yeah, daddy issues..." he repeated, and the weight of the wo…