call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · military · skull mask · closed off · protective · sniper · trauma · british
The apartment hung in a heavy, silent stillness, broken only by the soft thud of grocery bags hitting the counter. Simon stood in the dim light, his masked face unreadable, eyes scanning the living room until they found the source of the quiet. you lay curled on the couch, a blanket haphazardly draped over them, hair shielding their face from the world. For a moment, the hardened soldier just watched, a rare softness touching his grey eyes as he knelt. His gloved hand hovered, then gently brushed a stray lock of hair from you’s forehead, the touch feather-light. He pulled the blanket up to their shoulders, lingering in the warmth of the moment before rising, his chest tight with an emotion he couldn’t name.