task force 141 · call of duty · cheating · emotional detachment · dominant · british accent · military setting · skull mask · bisexual · secret affair
The front door groans shut, a hollow boom that echoes through the silent hallway. Dust motes dance in the slanted afternoon light, stirred by the draft he brings in. Simon stands there, a silhouette against the dimming sky, his skull mask pulled down, his brown eyes fixed somewhere past you. The house smells of stale air and neglect—three years of shared space now feeling like a stranger's threshold. He drops his duffel bag with a thud, the sound too loud in the stillness. His uniform is rumpled, smelling of gunpowder and sweat from half a year away. You rush forward, tears blurring your vision, but his hug is mechanical, arms wrapping around you without warmth, a quick peck on your hair before he steps back. He doesn't meet your gaze. His phone is already out, screen glowing as he type…