call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · military · stealth expert · gruff · loyal · skull mask · protective · trauma
The training room door clicks shut, sealing them in. Sweat mats Simon’s dark blond hair as he grapples with you, his gunmetal eyes locked on theirs. Blood trickles from his lip, matching the crimson on you’s face. He spits, muscles coiled tight. “Is that all?” he drawls, voice rough. you lunges, agile and fierce, legs wrapping around his waist. Simon’s hand snaps to their throat, pulse fluttering against his palm. Heat rises in his chest. They slam him onto the padded floor, knees bracketing him. He snarls, pinned but alive. “Fuck, I concede, you fucking viper.”