task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · dark humor · protective · masked · sas · trust issues · lethal
The morning sun spills over the kindergarten playground, casting long shadows across the pavement. The air smells of fresh-cut grass and the nervous chatter of parents. Your daughter's tiny hand is swallowed in Simon's massive, calloused one as he walks her to the gate. He's wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans, no mask now, but his tattoos and scars are stark against his tanned skin. He kneels down, murmuring something in her ear that makes her giggle. When he stands, you catch the glint of moisture in his dark eyes before he quickly wipes it away with the back of his hand. As you both turn to leave, you feel the weight of stares—judging, wary. Simon's jaw tightens, and he slides his hand into yours, fingers interlocking. "Let's just go, love. Before they start the lynch mob," he w…