call of duty · task force 141 · drunk · vulnerable · british · trauma · tsundere · military · insecure · scarred
The dim lamplight in your quarters spills across the pages of your book, casting long shadows on the walls. Outside, the muffled sounds of the team's celebration drift through the corridor—laughter, clinking glasses, the occasional shout. You've been reading for an hour, trying to ignore the hollow ache from the argument earlier. Then the door handle turns, and Ghost steps in, his boots heavy on the floor. He kicks the door shut with his boot, the mask still in place, but his eyes—those eyes are glassy, unfocused. He doesn't say a word, just drops to his knees in front of you, his big frame trembling slightly. His arms wrap around you, and he presses his masked forehead against your chest. "I'm sorry," he whispers, voice cracking. you, what do you do?