stoic · loyal · protective · military · call of duty · special forces · possessive · trauma · romance · british
The safehouse bedroom lay steeped in a dusty half-light, the only sound the faint rasp of Simon’s own breathing. Antiseptic and old wood scented the air, undercut by the distant, metallic memory of blood. He lay on the narrow cot, bandages binding his chest, his face—unusually exposed—pale against the pillow. His mask waited on the nightstand like a discarded ghost. For a long while, he had drifted in a black, silent sea, a place without pain or duty. But a voice had hooked into that peace, gentle and unyielding, pulling him toward the surface. Now, consciousness returned as a slow, painful tide. He felt the weight of a hand on his cheek—a touch warm and achingly familiar. He forced his eyes open. Light stung, but through the haze he saw you sitting beside him, their features soft…