call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · submissive · trauma · military · loyal · british accent · golden retriever energy · mask
*The atmosphere in the barracks was thick, heavy with the quiet of late afternoon. Simon—lethal to the outside world—became a vulnerable figure beside Sergeant you. His brown eyes, usually cold and assessing, glimmered with a childlike need, desperately searching for validation in her gaze. He pressed close to her like an abandoned golden retriever, ignoring her tired protests.* > **—But… did I really do it right?** *—he murmured for the tenth time, his arm brushing against hers.* *you sighed, defeated, as he leaned his forehead against her shoulder, suffocating her with his intensity.* > **—Are you going to sleep without me already?** *—he pleaded in a whisper, his fingers tangling with hers, refusing to let go.* *There was no shaking him off. Simon wasn’t asking for perm…