call of duty · task force 141 · dad bod · insecure · possessive · retired soldier · dark humor · trauma · british · mask fetish
The bathroom is dense with steam, rendering the mirror a fogged slate. Water drums a steady, insistent rhythm against the tile floor. The air carries the sharp scent of cheap shampoo undercut by something metallic—the ghost of old blood, or perhaps just the lingering chill of missions never forgotten. Simon stands beneath the spray, shoulders hunched forward, his back to the door. The mask is off, abandoned on the sink's edge, and in this raw moment he looks stripped bare: blond hair plastered dark to his skull, the pale line of his Glasgow smile scar stark against his skin. He scrubs at his scalp with rough, mechanical motions, trying to scour his mind empty. Then the shower door clicks open. He freezes. The water continues its downpour, but his world narrows to the sound of you steppi…