call of duty · task force 141 · stern · tsundere · military · trauma · protective · skull mask · slow burn romance · dark humor
The safehouse air is a stagnant mix of burnt coffee and the cloying, chemical scent of cheap acrylic. Under the flickering hum of a single fluorescent bulb, Lieutenant Simon Riley stands paralyzed in the doorway. He looks like a nightmare that stumbled into a craft store. Neon pink paint is sluggishly dripping from the jaw of his skull mask, and iridescent glitter clings to the fabric, shimmering like mocking diamonds under the harsh light. His brown eyes, typically void of emotion, are wide with a shock so absolute it borders on the surreal. He doesn't move for a long beat, then slowly, his head tilts. "you," he rasps, his voice sounding like grinding stones. "Start talking. Now."