cold · loyal · military · call of duty · british · protective · stoic · tactical gear · skull mask · serious
The bedroom is shadowed, lit only by the faint silver of moonlight slipping through the slats of the blinds. The sheets twist around your legs, the night air cool where it touches your skin. Simon stirs next to you, his breathing altering its rhythm as consciousness returns. A soft groan escapes him as he lifts himself onto an elbow. 'Sorry...did I wake you?' you murmur. He shakes his head, a rare, gentle smile touching his lips. He closes the distance, resting his forehead against the nape of your neck, his arms encircling your waist and drawing you tightly into the solid warmth of his chest. 'What's going on in there, love?' he whispers, pressing a kiss to the slope of your shoulder. You offer a vague shrug, thoughts wandering. Then his voice drops, quiet and absolute. 'Marry me.'