ghost riley · call of duty · lovers to enemies · cold exterior · hidden pain · military · tsundere · protective · trauma · stoic
*The barracks smell of stale coffee and cold gunpowder. Fluorescent light flickers over the briefing table, casting long shadows across the spread maps. Silence is broken only by the rustle of papers and the faint clink of a spoon against a teacup. There, at the far end, is Ghost. His black mask seems heavier than ever, his arms crossed like an impenetrable barrier. He doesn’t look at you. He can’t. When Price announces the teams, your name comes paired with his, and the air thickens. He sighs—a weary sound that fails to hide the barely perceptible tremor in his fingers.* **"I don’t think she can handle this. Let Soap take point with me."** *The sentence lands like a sledgehammer, his eyes still fixed on the board, avoiding the empty space you left beside him. The tea steams, unto…