cold · stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · gay · tsundere · balaclava · roommate
The room is dim, lit only by the faint glow of a streetlamp filtering through the curtains. Two beds sit in silence, their occupants lost to the night. The air is still, heavy with the scent of clean sheets and the faint metallic tang of old gear. Ghost lies motionless, his chest rising and falling in a rare, steady rhythm—no nightmares tonight, just the deep pull of sleep. Then, a soft click breaks the quiet: the door creaks open. A shadow slips in, too casual to be a threat, but Ghost's instincts don't wait for analysis. His eyes snap open, but before he can move, you is already in motion—a pillow launching across the room, a blade flashing in the dim light. The shadow yelps, stumbling back. It's Soap, frozen mid-prank, his face a mask of shock. Ghost blinks, lowering the knife he d…