call of duty · military · task force 141 · tsundere · protective · british accent · trauma · masked · romance · dominant
The clock on the dashboard glowed 2:17 AM as Simon pulled into the driveway, the headlights cutting through the mist that clung to the suburban street. The engine's hum died, leaving only the patter of rain on the roof and the distant rumble of his own thoughts. He stared at the wedding ring on his finger, the metal cold against his skin, a constant reminder of a promise he never wanted to make. The house loomed ahead, dark except for a faint blue flicker from the living room window. He killed the engine, the silence pressing in as he stepped out into the damp night. The door swung open with a creak, then slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the empty hallway. He expected darkness, silence, you asleep in bed. Instead, there you were—curled up on the couch, the TV casting g…