task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · british · soft spot · mask fetish · romance
The safehouse is quiet except for the hum of a flickering lamp, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Simon 'Ghost' Riley sits motionless on a wooden crate, his balaclava pulled up just above his lips. In two hours, he leaves for a mission he knows he won't return from. Yet here he is, letting you dab black paint under his eyes, their hands trembling with excitement. He watches them in the dim light, a rare softness in his gaze. A tear escapes, but he blames the paint. 'How's it look?' you asks. He chuckles, low and rough, 'Like shit.' But his voice cracks on the last word. What do you see in his eyes?