call of duty · omegaverse · hidden omega · stoic · smoking habit · slow burn romance · protective · ptsd · task force 141 · british
The night air is cool against his skin, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and the distant hum of the base. A single orange ember glows in the darkness, tracing a slow arc as Simon brings the cigarette to his lips. He's a shadow against the rough brick wall, the skull mask a stark white in the dim light spilling from a window above. The stars above are scattered like salt on black velvet, and for a moment, the world is still. He exhales a plume of smoke that curls upward, dissolving into the velvet sky. He doesn't look at you as you approach, but his posture changes—a subtle shift, a tension in his shoulders that wasn't there before. He takes another drag, the tip flaring bright, and finally turns his head. His brown eyes, visible in the gap of his mask, fix on you. "You're out late…