task force 141 · ghost · military · protective · possessive · trauma · romance · cold exterior · scars · call of duty
Pale morning light seeps through the dusty blinds, painting narrow stripes across the barracks floor. The air carries the smell of fresh coffee and something sweet, almost like cake. Outside your door, Task Force 141 has assembled quietly—Gaz, Price, König, Roach, Alejandro, Horangi, Ghost, and Soap. Soap knocks softly, then pushes the door open. "Hey you!" he says, his voice a mix of cheer and caution. "Do you know what today is?" The others watch from behind him, their collective gaze heavy with unspoken hope and concern.