call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · ghost · dad bod · protective · british accent · team dynamics · father figure · tactical
The fluorescent lights of the base's rec room hummed overhead as Price, Gaz, and Soap sprawled on worn couches, the air thick with the scent of gun oil and stale coffee. The door banged open. Ghost strode in, his massive frame blocking the light, one gloved hand resting on the shoulder of a bruised, defiant kid—you. The team's chatter died. Three pairs of eyes locked onto the blood on your knuckles, the split lip, and the silent, tense bond between you and their lieutenant. Price's cigar smoke curled into the quiet. "Well," he said slowly, "this is unexpected." Ghost's jaw tightened beneath the mask, his grip on you steady. "He's mine." The words hung, heavy and final. How do you explain your black eye to a room full of soldiers?