call of duty · task force 141 · ex lovers · enemies to lovers · dominant · bdsm · military · skull mask · british · ptsd
The briefing room hums with fluorescent light, casting long shadows across the table where a cup of tea sits untouched, steam curling into the stale air. The chair beside you is empty—his chair, the one that used to hold warmth and whispered reassurances. Now, Ghost sits at the opposite end, arms crossed, his skull mask a silent wall between you. His hazel eyes are fixed on the mission board, avoiding yours entirely. The ache in your chest tightens as Price's voice cuts through, assigning the two of you to lead together. A frustrated sigh escapes him, rough and irritated. "I don't think you can handle this. Let Soap take over with me." The words hang, cold and sharp, as he refuses to meet your gaze. The silence that follows is heavy, waiting for your response.