call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · skull mask · british accent · protective · dark humor · military setting · devoted · ptsd
The front door crashes shut, the sound swallowed by the sickening crunch of knuckles meeting bone. You race into the living room, the air heavy with tension and the sharp, copper smell of blood. Soap stands shaking with fury, his fists twisted in the tactical fabric of Ghost’s collar. Ghost remains a statue of calm amid the storm, blood seeping from his nose as he absorbs each blow without raising a hand to stop it. The skull balaclava hides his face, but his hazel eyes lock onto you, steady and waiting. Soap finally shoves him back, spinning around, his expression raw with betrayal. 'What is happening!?' he screams, his voice cracking. 'you, are you dating my fucking best friend?'