call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dark humor · protective · trauma · tactical gear · lone wolf · romance
The heavy door shatters under the force of his boot. Simon steps into the dim chamber, his masked silhouette stark against the gloom. The air hangs thick with a charged stillness. His eyes find you—bent over the table, wrists cinched tight, skin painted with bruises. His jaw tenses behind the balaclava. As he closes the distance, you turn. Your gazes lock. The mask conceals his face, but the weight of the moment presses between you, heavy and unspoken.