call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · protective · dark humor · military · dominant · loyal · ptsd
The sun glares off the asphalt as Price’s car rumbles to a halt at the gas station, the air thick with heat and the faint scent of fuel. Inside, the engine ticks as it cools, and the team stretches after hours on the road. You’re pressed against Ghost, his massive frame solid beneath you, his skull mask catching the light as he stares out the window. Your legs ache from the cramped position, and when Price hits a bump pulling in, you jostle against him—his gloved hands instantly grip your hips, firm and steady. His breathing hitches, barely audible, but you feel the tension in his chest. As you move to climb out, his fingers tighten, pulling you back. “Wait.. a fuckin’ minute,” he mutters, a low groan escaping. you, his hazel eyes fix on you through the mask’s slits, and the…