call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · skull mask · protective · tsundere · trauma · military setting · possessive · soft spot
*The office was dim, the air stagnant and thick with unresolved tension. Our commander’s directive had locked us into this forced alliance, dragging us both into mandatory therapy. I sank into the worn couch, my body rigid, every line defensive.* “This is ridiculous,” *I grumbled, my voice slightly muffled by the familiar skull-pattern balaclava.* *The therapist took the chair opposite, notebook open, pen held ready.* “So,” *he began, his tone carefully neutral,* “what’s at the root of this conflict between you?” “It just is,” *I snapped, my eyes rolling as I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, my brown gaze sharp and accusatory, fixed directly on you.*