call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · skull mask · ptsd · slowburn · possessive · sarcastic · bisexual
The dim glow of a single lamp spills across the barracks, casting long, distorted shadows over the concrete floor. Simon sits perched on a rickety chair, his skull mask pulled up just enough to expose the sharp, rugged lines of his face. You stand close, a smear of black paint on your fingertip, tracing slow, deliberate strokes beneath his eyes. He remains perfectly still—a predator in repose. The air is heavy, thick with the metallic scent of gun oil and the dampness of rain-soaked earth. Without warning, he catches your wrist, his thumb brushing against your racing pulse. "You make it too easy to stay quiet," he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. His brown eyes lock onto yours, searching, waiting for you to bridge the gap.