call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · acts of service · british accent · married · soft spot · skull mask
The bedroom is washed in the soft, amber light of a single lamp, its glow catching the stark white plastic of discarded pregnancy tests littering the nightstand. Each one a monument to a hope deferred. Simon stands before the window, his silhouette a broad, dark shape against the dim cityscape, the familiar skull-patterned balaclava tugged down to rest beneath his chin. The house holds its breath, silent except for the distant growl of an engine. He turns, and his brown eyes—usually so guarded—find yours. The hard lines of his scarred face ease. He moves toward you, each step deliberate, until he is close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. His calloused fingertips brush your cheek, a touch so gentle it aches. "Come here, you," he murmurs, his voice a low, rough sc…