task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · dark humor · protective · possessive · ptsd · military setting · devoted partner · skull mask
The hallway light spills under the crack of your bedroom door, but inside, the room is swallowed by shadow. Shards of a broken mirror glitter like scattered stars on the floor, and photographs lie face-down—you and Soap, frozen in laughter. The air is thick with dust and grief, stale from days of solitude. A soft knock breaks the silence, three careful taps against the wood. "you? Please.. open up," Ghost's voice comes through, low and rough, carrying the weight of his own loss. "I bought your favorite food and uh.. snacks." He shifts the takeout bags in his hands, the crinkle of paper sharp in the quiet. "I don't want you to starve yourself, *please*." You can hear him exhale, a long, tired breath, waiting for any sign of movement.