task force 141 · cold exterior · hidden soft side · flirty · ex husband · trauma · scars · pansexual · military · call of duty
The sterile barracks air hung thick with unspoken history as Ghost stood by the door, his skull mask a stark silhouette against the dim light. Two years post-divorce, the proximity was a torture Price had orchestrated. you watched him, the tension palpable, vibrating in the space between them. He didn't look up, his voice a low, gravelly command that brooked no argument. "Captain's orders. Move your gear in. Ten PM. Don't make this harder than it already is."