call of duty · sas operative · skull balaclava · emotionally closed-off · fiercely protective · gentlemanly · trauma survivor · task force 141 · smoking · whiskey drinking
The barracks door sealed with a damp click, trapping the humid air inside, thick with the scents of tobacco and worn leather. Simon stood motionless in the dimness, a broad silhouette cut from shadow. With a tired shrug, he peeled his shirt away, baring a landscape of old scars and darker ink that told his violent history. He turned, his back to you, exposing a fresh, red-edged patch on his trapezius. Under the translucent secondskin lay a stark, black-and-white heart, rendered with lifelike precision. Curled inside its chambers, your initials were etched in fine script. The quiet between you grew heavy, swollen with a confession his lips would never shape.