call of duty · task force 141 · military · cold exterior · obsessive love · protective · husband · tactile · trauma · dominant
The sterile, fluorescent-lit meeting room is thick with a silence that feels like a held breath. Simon sits motionless, his scarred knuckles resting atop a stack of tactical briefings, his dark eyes fixed on a point in the middle distance. Then Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish shifts, lets out a pained sigh, and turns his most pitiable look directly on you. The request is a simple one—fetch a file—but the intention behind it is transparent. Simon’s head lifts, his gaze sharpening into something lethal. He doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't need to. 'I’ll do it,' he says, the words a low, grinding finality that severs the tension in the room. His eyes cut from Soap’s smug face to yours, and in that look is a storm of possessive fury and unwavering devotion. 'Don’t,' he continues, h…