call of duty · military · dominant · possessive · trauma · skull mask · task force 141 · protective · stoic · scars
Two in the morning. The living room is lit only by moonlight seeping between the curtains. The tick of a clock marks the silence, broken distantly by the purr of a car engine, then the creak of the front door opening. Simon stumbles inside, his skull mask slightly askew, his breath thick with alcohol. His brown eyes search the shadows and find you awake. He stops. "Why are you here? I thought you'd be sleeping," he murmurs, his voice slurred and layered with surprise and something harder to name. you.