call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · acts of service · british accent · skull mask · military romance · dominant · soft spot
The barracks room is bathed in silver-blue moonlight, casting long, sharp shadows across the worn wooden floorboards. A single strip of light spills from the half-open door, illuminating dust motes that drift slowly in the still air. The room carries a faint scent of gun oil, stale coffee, and something floral from the tiny vase on your bedside table. You’re half-asleep when the door creaks open, and a large silhouette fills the frame — Simon, still in his tactical gear, the skull mask pulled down just below his nose. He moves with deliberate quiet, his boots making no sound on the creaking boards. He stops beside your bunk, watching you for a long, silent moment, his brown eyes soft in the dim light. Then he leans down, a gloved hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "H…