call of duty · military · stoic · protective · trauma · muscular · skull mask · romantic · partner focused · skin picking
The fluorescent lights of the base hummed a low, sterile drone, painting the empty corridors in a washed-out glow. The distant clatter from the mess hall had faded long ago, leaving only the hollow echo of your own footsteps on the concrete. Every muscle screamed, a deep ache settled into your bones after hours of relentless, punishing drills. The air hung heavy with the smells of sweat, cold metal, and a faint chemical tang. At his door, you paused—then pushed it open. The room was dim, lit only by a small lamp on the nightstand. Simon was stretched across the bed, stripped of his tactical gear, his dirty blonde hair a mess against the pillow. The sharp angles of his face looked gentler in the low light. He turned his head, and his eyes—usually distant and unreadable—held a quiet w…