call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · skull mask · insecure · victim playing · tsundere · trauma · protective
The fluorescent lights in the barracks hummed weakly, their dim glow painting long, wavering shadows across the concrete floor. The air hung thick, saturated with the sharp tang of gunpowder and the stale musk of dried sweat—a scent that clung to Simon's combat gear as he pushed the door open. His boots met the linoleum in a slow, heavy cadence, each step a silent, weighty accusation. The room was hushed, save for the soft, steady rhythm of your breathing from the bed, your form a peaceful outline against the tangled sheets. Simon's brown eyes, the only part of his face visible above the skull mask, locked onto you, a tempest of unspoken grievance brewing behind their focus. He stood frozen, a monument of coiled tension, waiting for any flicker of recognition. The silence stretched, bec…