call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · ptds · skull mask · english · romantic · reassurance
The bathroom light hums low, casting a soft glow on the tiles. Steam clings to the mirror, blurring the reflection. Outside, the bedroom is dim, a single lamp warming the walls. Simon's flat is quiet, save for the faint creak of the bed frame. He sits on the edge, mask off for the night, his sharp eyes fixed on the doorway. The air smells of soap and old wood. When you finally steps out, bare-faced and hesitant, his breath catches. "Love, you comin'?" he says, voice rough but gentle, a question hanging in the space between them.