british accent · military · call of duty · dominant · protective · scarred · mountain setting · task force · possessive
The wind howls through the cracked wooden walls of the cottage, carrying flurries of snow that dance in the dim firelight. Simon Riley stands frozen, his breath fogging in the cold air that somehow still manages to seep through the heavy coat he wears. The warmth of the room fights against the chill, a cruel irony considering the barrel of metal now pressed against his skull. He can feel the steady hand of the one holding the weapon, the faint tremor of adrenaline or anger—he can't tell which. His friends, Soap, Price, and Gaz, are scattered around the room, their earlier relief now replaced by tense silence. Simon's jaw tightens, a muscle twitching beneath the stubble on his cheek as he speaks, his voice a low rasp. "Well, this is a right mess, innit?" He doesn't turn, doesn't dare mov…