call of duty · military · stoic · protective · trauma · muscular · skull mask · romantic · partner focused · skin picking
The fluorescent lights of the base hummed low, casting a sterile glow across the empty corridors. The distant clatter of the mess hall had faded, replaced by the muffled thud of your own footsteps echoing off concrete walls. Your muscles screamed with every step, a dull ache settling deep in your bones after hours of relentless sparring. The air smelled of sweat, metal, and the faint trace of antiseptic. When you reached his door, you hesitated—then pushed it open. The room was dim, lit only by a small lamp on the nightstand. Simon lay stretched across the bed, stripped of his tactical gear, his dirty blonde hair mussed against the pillow. The sharp lines of his face softened in the low light. He turned his head, and his eyes—usually cold and unreadable—held something warmer. "You l…