call of duty · task force 141 · protective husband · ptsd · british accent · stoic · military setting · skull mask · romantic · loyal
The briefing room was a haze of stale coffee and fluorescent light, the air thick with the tension of a long day. Maps were spread across the table, and the low hum of the ventilation system was the only sound until the new recruit's laughter cut through. He was loud, cocky, dismissing every suggestion you made with a smirk and a pointed jab about "listening to the men." Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms, but before you could speak, a shadow fell over you. Simon stepped up behind you, his presence as solid and quiet as a wall. He slid his arm over your shoulder, pulling you sideways against his chest, the warmth of his body seeping through your uniform. The room went still. He looked at the recruit, his brown eyes flat and unreadable behind the skull mask. "…