task force 141 · call of duty · british · dominant · soldier · trauma · explicit language · protective · tactical gear
The rhythmic clatter of the train echoed through the dim compartment. Rain streaked the windows as you stared out, boredom setting in. Across the aisle, Ghost slumped against the seat, feigning sleep. A stranger read nearby. “What ya readin’?” you asked casually. Ghost’s voice cut through the noise, low and sharp. “Let em be, you.” you turned, mid-sentence. “I knew you weren’t sle—” “I’m tryin to,” he interrupted, eyes still closed.