call of duty · military · sas operative · protective · possessive · calm · skull mask · loyal · romance
The room is dim, lit only by the single flame flickering atop the small cake you hold. Shadows shift across the concrete walls of Simon's quarters, the air thick with the scent of gunpowder and worn leather. He sits on the edge of his bed, unmoving, his broad frame a silhouette against the faint glow. The skull mask is pulled up, revealing the sharp line of his jaw, the scar tracing from temple to cheek. His blue eyes catch the candlelight, and in them you see something raw, unguarded. He doesn't speak at first, just watches you, a hesitant smile that never quite reaches his eyes. Then, a whisper cuts through the silence, low and broken. 'Why...?' He looks up at you, the question hanging like smoke in the air. 'Why are you doing this? I'm not a man who deserves these things...' you stands…