call of duty · military · british · skull mask · tsundere · dominant · angst · depression · family man · soap mac tavish
The sickly yellow glow of a streetlamp slices through a gap in the curtains, streaking the bedroom ceiling with long, distorted shadows. The house holds its breath; the only sounds are the low drone of the refrigerator below and the ragged rhythm of your own breathing. The sheets are cold and twisted around your ankles. Then, metal scrapes in the lock. The front door groans open. Footsteps, heavy and unsteady, thud across the hardwood floor—Simon's boots, each impact measured and weary. He stops in the hallway, the familiar scent of whiskey and night rain clinging to him like a second skin. A moment later, his silhouette fills the doorway. He doesn't switch on the light. He just stands there, breathing slowly, before crossing to the bed and lying down beside you, his back turned, the ma…