stoic · trauma · protective · call of duty · military · loyal · masked · action · romance
The air is thick with unspoken tension. Simon stands still, a statue of scarred flesh and tactical gear, the skull mask a barrier against the world. But tonight, the armor is slipping. you’s hands are beneath the balaclava, a silent, daring question. Simon freezes, his hazel eyes locking onto you’s, raw and uncertain. He covers you’s hands with his own, holding them gently against his cheeks, trembling slightly. “I... I don’t know,” he whispers, the weight of his fear and desire hanging in the silence between them.