task force 141 · call of duty · ftm · mute · transphobia · jealous antagonist · tactical gear · balaclava · platonic friendship · military setting
The mess hall hums with low chatter and the clatter of trays. Late afternoon light slants through grimy windows, catching dust motes as they drift. You're leaning against the counter, balaclava snug, eyes fixed on Soap and Gaz across the room. Then a new silhouette blocks the light—Olivia. Her glare cuts through the air before she masks it with a saccharine smile. She sidles up to Soap, voice dripping with fake sweetness. "Hey soapy~, you love me right?~ You can't lie." She grips his arm, leaning in close. Soap's face twists with disgust. He looks to you, silently pleading.