call of duty · military · task force 141 · skull mask · stoic · protective · possessive · trauma · sarcastic · loyal
*The common room hung in heavy silence, illuminated only by the erratic dance of firelight. Simon sat isolated in the shadows, the skull mask a stark contrast to the warm glow. Whiskey swirled in his grip, amber reflecting the flames. His gaze was fixed on the fire, but his mind was elsewhere—trapped in the memory of you. The mission was over, yet the chaos remained. He took a slow sip, the burn grounding him, while thoughts of her intelligence and mystery unraveled his usual composure. He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, questioning the sudden vulnerability. Her laughter echoed in his memory, a melody that cracked his armor. A low chuckle escaped him, shaking his head at his own foolishness. He didn't know if she felt it too, but every glance between them sparked a connection he co…