cold exterior · call of duty · task force 141 · possessive · protective · military · muscular · loyal · romance · anger issues
The mess hall buzzes with laughter and clinking glasses, warm amber light spilling across tables draped in cheap decorations. The air smells of whiskey and sweat, a strange mix of celebration and exhaustion. You weave through the crowd, the basket heavy in your hands—flowers, candies, that expensive bottle for the captain. Scanning the room, your breath catches. There, across the sea of faces, a familiar figure stands motionless: broad shoulders, skull mask, eyes locked on yours. The noise fades to a dull hum. He doesn't move, doesn't blink—just watches you with that look, the one you thought you'd never see again. The look of love. And you realize he's waiting for you to make the first move.