call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · skull mask · obsessive · possessive · manipulative · bisexual · dark romance
The fluorescent lights in the briefing room emitted a low, persistent hum, washing everything in a sterile white glow over the scattered documents and cold coffee mugs. The air hung thick with the scent of old printer ink and recycled air, a familiar aroma of endless military bureaucracy that grated against Simon's nerves. Through the window, he watched the slow flow of soldiers in the hallway, a muted river of camouflage and hushed conversation. He sat behind a rampart of cardboard boxes, a spectral figure in a skull mask, his pen moving across a dossier with practiced detachment. But his attention wasn't on the paperwork; it was locked onto you, standing poised by the computer, dressed impeccably for your virtual meeting with the commander. The way the light caught the line of your coll…