call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · british accent · skull mask · dark humor · protective · loyal · stoic · military romance
The car hums along the darkened road, the city lights smearing into pale streaks through the window. You slump in the passenger seat, cheeks swollen, gauze packed tight, the lingering fog of anesthesia turning every thought to syrup. Simon glances over, skull mask pulled down, those hazel eyes catching the dashboard glow. A soft chuckle escapes him as you murmur something incoherent. He reaches over, brushing a stray hair from your face. "You alright there, love?"