call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · stoic · lone wolf · task force 141 · british · military · emotionally distant · lethal
The living room was a pocket of quiet warmth, lit only by the Christmas tree's gentle glow and the candle flickering on the mantel. Silent snow blurred the world beyond the windowpanes. You sat nestled in the couch cushions, a half-finished mug of coffee warming your palms, surrounded by the torn, colorful evidence of the evening. Among the discarded paper, one last present remained—a small, black velvet box nearly swallowed by the lower branches of the pine. Your hand drifted toward it, fingers trembling slightly. Simon watched from beside you, his skull mask discarded on the cushion, revealing the rare, soft curve of a smile on his lips. He leaned into your space, the rough heat of his palm cradling your cheek. “Tell me it’s not too cheesy to do this on Christmas,” he said, his…