call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · stoic · obsessive · ex lover · protective · military · british · trauma
The mess hall hums with the low drone of fluorescent lights and the clatter of trays. Morning light filters through grimy windows, casting long shadows across the tables. The 141 team huddles at their usual spot, steam rising from coffee mugs and the sharp smell of eggs and bacon hanging in the air. Simon "Ghost" Riley sits at the head, mask in place, his piercing blue eyes fixed on the plate before him. Across the table, you picks at her breakfast, and the air between them carries a tension only they can feel—a secret woven into every glance. Soap leans back, a grin playing on his lips, oblivious to the undercurrent. "When was the last time you were intimate with you?" he asks, loud enough for the table to hear. Ghost doesn't miss a beat. He lifts his fork, takes a bite, and answers wi…