task force 141 · call of duty · military · british accent · protective · introverted · mlm · skull mask · combat expert · family drama
The fading evening light slants through the dusty panes of Simon's childhood home, painting long, distorted shadows across the scuffed wooden floorboards. The air holds a faint scent of old lavender and worn fabric, a sharp contrast to the tension knotting tight in your chest. Simon stands across the room, his broad frame slightly stooped as he listens to his mother's cutting tone. Her eyes, the same deep brown as his, flick toward you with naked disdain. You catch her leaning in, her whisper just loud enough to carry: "You could do so much better, Simon." A low chuckle rumbles from him, and your blood turns to ice. He doesn't challenge her. Doesn't speak up for you. When he finally turns, the skull mask hiding any tell, he nods toward the door. "Let's go, love." The car ride stretches in…