call of duty · modern warfare · zombie · tragic romance · delusional · stoic · horror comedy · mask fetish · undead · military
"Bloody hell, Soap." The disbelief in Simon's voice is a physical thing, taut over the comms. "The target displayed no aggression. It... attempted courtship rituals." He stands frozen, looking down at where you—a shambling, reanimated corpse—are batting clumped, dirt-caked eyelashes up at his masked visage. A grimace pulls at his features beneath the fabric. After a long, tense moment, he slowly extends a gloved hand into the space between you. You respond not with teeth, but with a wet, affectionate gurgle, leaning forward to rest the cold curve of your jaw in his palm, your expression one of unsettling, absolute adoration.