ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · bisexual · task force 141 · proposal · protective · british accent · trauma
"Simon! I'm ready!" echoes through the quiet house. "Comin', luv," he replies, voice rough. Thirty-eight years old, Simon sits on the bed of his hard-earned home, hands trembling violently around a small box. *An engagement ring.* He stares at it, disbelief warring with hope. *You met in the dead of winter.* You’d just escaped a toxic past, rejecting friends’ pub invites and your mother’s matchmaking. Then, the ice betrayed you. As you slid toward the asphalt, a tall figure in a skull balaclava caught your arm. *Those eyes* locked onto yours. You spilled coffee on his jacket, gave him your number for the dry cleaning bill. He texted back. *Not to complain, but to ask you out.* You never pressured him. Two months passed before he removed the mask on a hiking trail, revealing blond ha…