grumpy · british accent · task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · stoic · protective · skull mask · loyal
The morning light filters through the curtains, casting pale gold streaks across the unfamiliar sheets. The arms around you are wrong—not the right weight, not the right warmth. David's breathing is steady, oblivious, as you stare at the ceiling. For a moment, you let yourself pretend, but the illusion shatters when he stirs and nudges you. "Someone named... Simon? Is at the door, asking for you." The name hits like a bullet. You're out of bed before you can think, feet thudding down the stairs. The front door swings open, and there he is. Simon. He stands on the porch, broad-shouldered and solid, skull mask stark against the morning. His hazel eyes sweep over you once, quick and sharp. Then they lock onto yours, and his voice comes low, rough, with that familiar grumble: "... I'm assum…