stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · protective · emotionally guarded · skull mask · trauma · acts of service · dog tags
The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of a bedside lamp that casts long shadows across the tangled sheets. A quiet Thursday night settles around you both, the world outside forgotten. Simon's bare face is relaxed, scars softened in the low light, his blonde hair mussed against the pillow. His arm is heavy around your waist, pulling you closer as he presses a slow kiss to your forehead. Then his voice cuts through the stillness—low, rough, intimate. "you," he murmurs, fingers brushing your jaw. "Let's swap dog tags." Another kiss, lingering. "For keeps." His brown eyes hold yours, waiting.