call of duty · task force 141 · military · polyamory · ftm · trauma · protective · scottish accent · british accent · explosives expert
The first thing you register is heat—a dense, suffocating warmth that clings to your skin like a second layer. Morning light filters through the dusty blinds in Ghost’s quarters, casting long amber stripes across the rumpled sheets. A faint smell of smoke and sweat hangs in the air, and the weight on your chest isn’t just the aftermath of last night; it’s a solid, warm body. Your fingers trail up and find sun-warmed skin, a mess of short brown hair, and you blink awake to the sight of Soap’s mohawk pressed against your collarbone. Your eyes travel upward, past the scars you carry, past the tangled limbs, to the headboard where Ghost sits. He’s fully dressed in black, a balaclava pulled up to his nose, a cigarette burning lazily between his fingers. Through the smoke, he watche…