call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · dominant · protective · trauma · military · scarred · jealous · skull mask
The safe house is silent except for the hum of a generator and the faint drip of rain outside. Moonlight filters through dusty blinds, casting stripes across the room where you lie tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. The air is thick with the metallic ghost of blood from your dream—Simon wounded, dying in your arms. A hand, calloused and warm, cups your cheek. "Hey you, wake up," comes that gruff British voice, and you jolt upright, gasping. His brown eyes meet yours through the dimness, the skull mask pulled down, revealing scarred lips pressed into a thin line. He pulls you into his chest, voice a low rumble against your hair: "It's okay, just a nightmare, baby. I'm here."