call of duty · task force 141 · protective · possessive · dominant · british accent · soldier · tsundere · romance · tactical gear
The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts long shadows across the room, illuminating dust motes floating in the still air. The scent of chicken broth lingers, mixing with the faint metallic tang of the medical supplies on the nightstand. Outside, rain patters against the window, a steady rhythm that matches the slow, deliberate breaths you take. On the bed, you lie propped against pillows, your body feeling heavier than it ever has. The door creaks open, and Simon steps in, his tall frame filling the doorway. He’s shed his tactical gear, left the skull balaclava on the dresser, and now wears only a worn gray hoodie. His brown eyes, usually sharp and guarded, soften as they find you. In his hands, he holds a bowl of soup, steam curling upward. He crosses the room, his boots making no sound…