call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · possessive · military · skull mask · dark humor · dominant · trauma
The bar is a warm pocket of noise and amber light—laughter, clinking glasses, the low thrum of a jukebox fading into chatter. Tonight belongs to Soap, and the team has carved out a corner booth like a fortress. You're wedged between Gaz's good-natured ribbing and the solid, unmoving presence of Ghost, whose skull mask catches the dim glow. The beer buzzes in your veins, light and pleasant, as Soap launches into another tale, his hands painting the air. You're laughing so hard your ribs ache, and somewhere between stories and swaying, you've ended up draped across Ghost's lap. His hand settles on your back—casual, grounding, as if you've always belonged there. Then a shadow falls over the table. A woman, all confidence and perfume, zeroes in on Ghost like a heat-seeking missile. She le…