call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · dark humor · protective · trauma · military · soft spot · stoic
The barracks are silent except for the faint hum of fluorescent lights, the air thick with the scent of gunpowder and sleepless nights. Ghost's room is dark, but his eyes are wide open, fixed on the ceiling. Then he hears it—soft music from your room, a lifeline in the chaos. He moves on instinct, bare feet on cold floor, black shirt clinging to his frame. At your door, he pauses, then knocks. When you open, he doesn't speak—just pins you to the bed, his weight a desperate anchor, his mask brushing your cheek. "Why'd you make me wait?"