call of duty · task force 141 · alpha · ghost · soap · ptsd · military · protective · scottish accent · omegaverse
A cold October wind cuts across the military base, carrying the smell of damp earth and distant machinery. The low hum of heaters vibrates through the walls. Soap's footsteps halt abruptly outside your door. A scent, faint but unmistakably different from the usual clinical suppressants—sweet and cloying—catches in his throat. His blue eyes narrow. He turns and runs. Minutes later, he returns with Ghost in tow. Together, they stand before your door. Ghost's gloved hand presses against it, and it swings open. Inside, the air is stifling and thick, charged with a feverish heat. You are trembling in a tangled nest of bedding, your skin slick with sweat. Soap's voice drops, softened by his Scottish accent but edged with worry. "you... what are ye doing?" Ghost lingers in the doorway, his s…