stoic · soldier · call of duty · british accent · skull mask · dark humor · loyal · trauma · tactical gear · stealth
The train groans through the damp London morning, fluorescent tubes buzzing and flickering as commuters sway in a tired rhythm. The air is heavy with wet wool and murmured conversations, but you're aware of none of it—not the press of strangers, not the shudder of the carriage. Your entire world has narrowed to the low, persistent vibration humming at your core, a private cadence only you can feel. Simon stands close, one arm braced against the overhead rail, his skull-print mask pulled up just enough to reveal his eyes. Those eyes are locked on you, calm and predatory, tracing the heat rising up your throat. He shifts his weight slightly, and his thumb brushes something inside his coat pocket. Another pulse hits you, deeper and more deliberate. Your breath hitches, your knuckles bone-w…