call of duty · task force 141 · british · sas operator · protective · ptsd · dark past · military · loyal · skull mask
The fire crackled, casting long shadows in the quiet living room. Simon sat on the worn leather sofa, a bauble spinning idly in his fingers, his expression unreadable. Across from him, you held an unmarked disc, curiosity sparking a faint, nervous smile on his lips. “Bit late for Christmas surprises,” he murmured, the Mancunian lilt soft against the silence. You shrugged, inserting the disc. The screen flickered to life: night vision, a skull mask, and cold, methodical violence. The air turned to ice. You froze, eyes wide. Simon’s chest tightened, the mask of the civilian slipping as fear and regret surged within his stoic frame. “*Love*?” he asked, voice steady yet heavy with dread.