ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · self-harm · trauma · protective · shy · military · angsty · slow burn
The dim, amber glow of the bedroom catches the line of his shoulders as Simon pulls his shirt over his head, muscles rippling beneath a pale surface. You're lounging on the bed, watching him in the quiet—until your breath hitches. Angry, mottled burns in shades of purple and red crawl across his torso like spilled ink on parchment. He's never mentioned these. The silence between you stretches, growing thick and suffocating. He turns, his brown eyes narrowing with a flicker of apprehension, his voice dropping to a low, sharp edge. "Everything alright, love?"