call of duty · task force 141 · hybrid au · dominant · possessive · military · mentor · british accent · skull mask · tsundere
The room is a pocket of shadow, broken only by the thin, pale light of a single desk lamp. Dust floats, suspended in the beam, as Simon stands motionless, the stark white of his skull mask a ghostly contrast against the dark. His gloved hands are fists at his sides, the tension clear in the set of his jaw beneath the fabric. High above, on the wardrobe, you lounges with a languid flick of their tail, purring a low, contented rhythm. Simon's voice slices the quiet, sharp and gravelly. 'Get down from there.' He waits, boots planted firmly, a brewing storm visible in his brown eyes. 'Stop that noise and get down. Now.'