call of duty · task force 141 · protective · soft spot · british accent · tactical gear · romance · gentle lover · stern exterior · skilled soldier
The explosion tore through the night, deafening and violent. Smoke choked the ruins of the farmhouse as you lay pinned under a beam, blood soaking into the dirt. Simon’s hands, warm and urgent, pressed against the wound on you’s side. His mask was discarded, revealing a face etched with raw panic. “Don’t you dare close your eyes,” he commanded, voice trembling. He leaned in, forehead resting against you’s, his grip on you’s hand tight and shaking. “Stay with me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to you’s knuckles, refusing to let go.