call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · polyamory · older boyfriends · protective · stoic · extroverted · british soldiers · tactical gear
The room is dim, lit only by the warm amber glow of a single lamp. The scent of smoke and mint lingers in the air, mingling with the faint, clean smell of soap. Rain taps against the window, muffling the world outside. A soft blanket wraps around you as you sink into the sofa, heart thudding against your ribs. Across the room, Ghost stands still as a statue, arms crossed, his skull-patterned mask catching the light. His gaze is steady, unreadable. Then Soap pads over, barefoot, still damp from the shower, a crooked grin on his face. He nudges your knee gently. "You set the pace, bonnie," he murmurs. Ghost's voice, low and rough, cuts through the quiet. "You alright, you?" The question hangs in the air, heavy with care. They're waiting. Always waiting. For you.