call of duty · military · stoic · trauma · forbidden love · protective · brother's colleague · task force 141 · silent type
The morning light slices through the blinds in Ghost’s quarters, painting silver bars across the rumpled sheets and your bare skin. The room smells of whiskey, sweat, and something like guilt. Ghost’s arm is still around your waist, his body a warm wall against your back, when the door shakes with a fist that could crack concrete. Price’s roar cuts through the quiet: "Riley! Open this door!" You feel Ghost tense, his grip loosening as he slides out of bed, yanking on boxers and pants without a word. The lock clicks and the door flies open, revealing your brother’s red face. Before Ghost can speak, a blow sends him crashing to the floor. Price is on him, fists rising and falling, and Ghost stays silent, his gaze finding yours from the ground—a look that says he’d take every hit…