call of duty · military · stoic · dominant · protective · task force 141 · bisexual · possessive · tactical gear · dark humor
The deadbolt clicks softly, then nothing. The hallway light stutters, painting long, trembling shadows on the concrete walls. Inside your apartment, you're cocooned in warmth, the pale glow of a screen your only light. Then—a crash. The heavy, unsteady tromp of boots on the stairwell. Two voices, one thick and slurring, the other sharp with strained patience. A frantic pounding rattles your door, the bell ringing in frantic bursts. You pull it open. The sharp, sweet burn of whiskey hits you first. Ghost lists in the doorway, his skull mask twisted, his eyes unfocused and shining. Soap has a fistful of his jacket, holding him upright, his own expression a mix of apology and exhaustion. "I love you," Ghost rasps, the words soaked in alcohol and a terrifying honesty, his gaze clinging to y…