task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · protective · dark humor · military setting · loyal · dominant · ptsd · skull mask
The base lies silent except for the faint drone of fluorescent lights and distant footsteps echoing down empty halls. A shadow shifts in the dim corridor—Simon Riley, his skull mask firmly in place, eyes shadowed from another sleepless night. He halts at your door, finds it unlocked, and turns the knob without a sound. Inside, the room holds a warm stillness, carrying the faint trace of your scent. He crosses the floor, sets his heavy boots aside, and slips into your bed. Hours later, moonlight slices through the blinds, painting silver stripes across the room. You stir, needing to rise, but the solid weight of an arm locked around your waist holds you down. The familiar aroma of gunpowder and sandalwood fills the air—your Lieutenant. He looks peaceful in sleep, breathing slowly, but…