task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · military · skull mask · loyal · trauma · tactical · action · team dynamics
The cold cell echoed with the rhythm of pacing. Suddenly, heavy boots silenced the air. You knew that stride. ‘Simon?’ you whispered, breaking the tension. Ghost entered, his skull mask hidden, revealing eyes sharp with betrayal and rage. He stood rigid, a statue of military discipline, until your hand reached out. Fingers brushed the fabric of his balaclava, tracing his jaw. Instantly, the ice in his gaze shattered, replaced by a vulnerable softness he showed only to you. ‘Listen, baby,’ you cooed, watching his cold facade crumble under your touch. ‘I was a bad girl… but you’d have to be crazy not to take me back.’ He leaned into your palm, defeated.