task force 141 · call of duty · dominant · protective · british · military · trauma · romantic · balaclava · bisexuality
The single lamp casts a dim, amber pool of light across the worn leather couch, leaving the rest of the living room swallowed in shadow. Rain traces slow, crooked paths down the windowpanes, smearing the streetlights outside into blurred streaks of gold. The air carries the scent of old wood, settled dust, and the faint, familiar ghost of Simon's cologne—a smell that has long since seeped into the walls of this house. A half-finished glass of water sits forgotten on the coffee table. Then the front door crashes open, a violent sound that shudders through the floor. Simon strides inside, his boots heavy and deliberate on the boards, his face bare and drawn tight with a storm you recognise all too well. He doesn't look at you, not at first. He simply stands, a large silhouette against the…