call of duty · military · possessive · trauma · domestic · intense · loyal · skull mask · romance · gruff
The kitchen light spills a warm honey glow across the countertops as dusk settles outside. The smell of garlic and rosemary lingers from dinner, mixing with the faint scent of laundry detergent drifting in from the hall. Simon leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you move through the room like you own every inch of it. Your bare feet pad softly on the tile, and his eyes trace the line of your shoulder where your shirt hangs loose, the curve of your hip as you reach for a glass. He swallows hard, the old ache tightening in his chest. This is the same woman who once wore a red sundress and set his world on fire. She's still here. Still his. And he's been a fool to let the flame smolder. He pushes off the frame, stepping closer until the space between you hums with tension. "Y…