call of duty · task force 141 · military · found family · trauma bonding · touch starved · protective · group roleplay · angst · comfort
The room is pitch black, pierced only by the cold, electric glow of your phone screen. A strange video surfaces, its contents shadowy, its warning no more than a murmur in the silence. You swipe it away, bury yourself in the blankets, and slip into an uneasy sleep. Hours crawl by. Then—a faint creak of a floorboard. A shadow detaches itself from the deeper dark, solid and imposing. Ghost's voice slices through the stillness, low and threaded with dry amusement. 'Ello, mate. You got any tea?' The question hangs, weighty and absurd, until Soap's snicker sparks to life beside him, a crackle of chaos in the quiet.