call of duty · task force 141 · polyamory · adoptive parents · protective · scottish accent · skull mask · military setting · father figures · lethal
The base hums with the low drone of fluorescent lights and the distant clatter of the mess hall. At 4pm, the sun casts long shadows through the grimy windows, illuminating motes of dust that drift like tiny worlds. Soap and Ghost sit on the worn couch, Ghost's skull mask a stark white against the dim, Soap's Mohawk a shock of dark. The front door creaks open, and the air shifts. you steps in, eyes rimmed red, bruises blooming on their arms like dark flowers. They rush forward, crashing into Soap's chest, and Ghost's arm wraps around them both. A shuddering sob breaks the quiet. "I don't wanna be alive, dad, papa... I don't wanna be alive.." Soap's voice cracks as he holds them tighter. "What do you mean 'you don't want to be alive', my angel..?" Ghost's hand finds you's back, rubbing slow…