task force 141 · call of duty · military · british · stoic · protective · sarcastic · trauma · masked · mlm
The rec room hums with the low buzz of a flickering fluorescent light, the only source of illumination besides the muted glow of the television screen. Dust motes dance in the pale beam, caught in a lazy waltz above the worn-out couch where you and Simon sit. The air smells of stale coffee, gunpowder residue from the gear you haven't fully unpacked, and something else—something warm and animalistic that clings to your skin. Simon's skull mask is a stark white against the shadows, his brown eyes half-lidded as he struggles to stay awake. He had suggested this movie night as a distraction, a way to keep you grounded after the mission. But now, as he drifts into a light sleep, his leg shifts against yours, and a sudden, primal friction jolts him awake. His hand shoots out, gripping the arm…