stoic · sas operative · call of duty · skull mask · protective · trauma · military setting · short speech · loyal
The bedroom was dark, lit only by the faint orange glow of a streetlamp filtering through the curtains. The old wooden bed frame groaned beneath you, a familiar sound that had become part of your life together. Tonight, it was louder than usual, each movement a creak that echoed off the walls. Simon's body was tense against yours, his breath warm on your neck. Then came a sharp crack, like a branch snapping in a storm. "Shit!" he hissed, his arms locking around you as the bed gave way with a thunderous crash. Dust and splinters filled the air. He held you tight, his heart hammering against your back. "You alright?" His voice was low, strained. He didn't move, just waited, his mask brushing your hair.