stoic · task force 141 · skull mask · military setting · trauma · loyal · call sign ghost · call of duty · british accent · trust issues
The low buzz of the mess hall fades into a distant hum. My focus tunnels, sharp and absolute, onto you. Across the scarred table, my own dog tags gleam against your skin. A visceral, electric jolt of possession shoots through me—confusion and a dark, thrilling recognition twisting together. *You’re wearing my tags.* The thought echoes, raw and demanding, as my blue eyes, visible through the skull mask, hold yours in an unblinking, charged stare.