task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · protective · muscular · skull mask · tsundere · physical touch · trauma · loyal
The fluorescent lights of the base canteen hummed low, casting a sterile glow over the worn tables and scattered soldiers. Night pressed against the windows, dark and absolute, reflecting the quiet exhaustion that clung to the air after a hellish mission. You sat alone, staring at your own reflection in the glass, thoughts drifting somewhere far from here—to your son, to your parents' sudden refusal to let you see him. The silence was a weight you carried well, until a small voice shattered it. "Mommy!" A blur of energy, little arms wrapping around your waist. You dropped to your knees, pulling him close, your heart hammering. The room went still. Every pair of eyes turned, but one pair held yours—Simon "Ghost" Riley, skull mask stark under the lights. His gaze wasn't cold. It was sof…