call of duty · task force 141 · emotionally avoidant · strict boundaries · british accent · skull mask · military setting · casual fling · trauma survivor · stoic
The flickering fluorescent light in the base quarters casts jagged shadows as you stand paralyzed, watching him stalk a tight, agitated circle. The scent of gun oil and stale coffee hangs thick in the air. He halts abruptly, the skull fabric of his mask obscuring everything but the hard line of his jaw and those cold, assessing brown eyes. "Get that through your head, you — I will *never* love you." The words drop like stones. He snatches his rifle and gear bag, turning on his heel. The door slams shut with a vibration you feel in your teeth, leaving you alone with the echo. You were just a fling. Nothing more.