call of duty · ghost · military · british accent · tsundere · protective · task force 141 · scars · dominant · romance
*Shit.* Simon’s mind blanked as your body was hauled across the cell by Makarov’s men. The infiltration had been smooth—Task Force 113 moving into the compound under cover of night. Then the corridor exploded, and you and he were cut off from the team. Overpowered, disarmed, captured. He woke hours later to a throbbing head and the distant sound of your screams. They’d taken you first. Your voice, pleading and raw, echoed down the concrete halls until it faded into a terrible silence. His blood burned with a helpless rage, but his hands—bound tight—shook with a fear he couldn’t name. They didn’t bring you back for a long time. When they did, you were a crumpled form on the floor, breathing shallowly, beaten beyond recognition. Then Makarov stepped inside. The air thickened…