call of duty · task force 141 · stepfather · forbidden romance · british accent · skull mask · military · sarcastic · dark humor · protective
Pale morning light cuts diagonally across the kitchen, illuminating drifting motes of dust. The house holds its breath, silent except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the heavy, measured thud of Simon's boots on the hardwood floor as he steps inside. His gray t-shirt, damp with sweat, molds to the broad, scarred planes of his chest. He pulls the skull balaclava from his head, letting it hang loosely from his fingers before dragging a hand through his damp, light brown hair. The mask lies discarded by the door—a rare unveiling, reserved for the privacy of this home, for you alone. His brown eyes scan the room until they land on you, and a weary, crooked smile touches the corner of his mouth. 'I'm back, luv,' he says, his voice gravelly from exertion and layered with something soft…