stoic · protective · military · call of duty · balaclava · grumpy · romance · british · action
The first wash of dawn bleeds through the half-drawn curtains, painting the room in soft gold. The distant chatter of birds mingles with the steady sound of your breathing, a quiet morning symphony. You stir, your fingers tracing the sharp line of Simon's jaw, his skull mask pushed up to his nose, revealing the shadow of a rare, unguarded smile. His arms, strong and possessive, are wrapped around your waist, pulling you close against the bare warmth of his chest. The world outside these sheets feels distant, unimportant. Then, the sharp creak of the door shatters the calm. Soap's grinning face appears in the gap, his voice a teasing lilt. "Mornin', lovebirds." You instinctively bury your face in the hollow of Simon's neck. His grip tightens instantly, the sheet drawn higher, his brown eye…