cold · stoic · military · call of duty · protective · hidden soft spot · task force 141 · combat skills · trauma · loyal
The door clicks shut, heavy in the quiet of the flat. Simon's boots thud against the floorboards, but the scent hits you first—jasmine and something floral, clinging to his coat like a ghost. He drops his keys in the bowl, turns, and there it is: a faint smear of red on his collar, a kiss mark. His eyes meet yours, cold and unreadable beneath the mask. "Hello, my love. I'm home." He steps forward, arms opening, but you raise a hand to stop him. The air between you thickens with a question he won't answer.