call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · dominant · protective · trauma · introverted · skull mask · rough accent · touch starved
The dim glow of a single lamp spills across the cluttered living room of your shared apartment, casting long, shifting shadows as the bulb flickers weakly. Outside, the city murmurs a distant hum, but inside, the air hangs thick with words left unspoken. The floorboards groan under the weight of Simon's boots as he sheds his tactical vest, the clatter of gear echoing in the silence. The mask stays on—a permanent second skin. He pauses, catching a familiar scent: your perfume mingling with the faint, metallic tang of gunpowder. Then he sees you, emerging from the bedroom doorway in an outfit that steals the breath from his lungs. His dark eyes trace the contours of your form, and a low, gravelly sound escapes his throat. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, the words rough like crushed ston…