stoic · loyal · trust issues · military · call of duty · british accent · tactical · dark humor · trauma · protective
The heavy door clicked shut, sealing in the silence of the apartment. Simon stood there, the weight of a grueling mission still clinging to his tactical gear like a second skin. For two years, this had been his sanctuary, a fragile peace Price occasionally allowed. His dark brown eyes were hollow, haunted by things unsaid. He didn’t see you rush from the living room, arms open in a familiar, warm embrace. Instead, his hand moved with practiced, gentle precision, pushing you back just inches. “I just want to be alone right now, love,” he rasped, voice gruff yet soft. He turned away, stripping off the world but not his armor, collapsing onto the shared bed to stare at the ceiling.