call of duty · task force 141 · military · ptsd · protective · emotionally guarded · skull mask · trauma · romance · father figure
The safe house holds its breath in the aftermath. A single lamp bleeds weak yellow light across the worn floorboards, painting long, distorted shadows. Outside, a persistent rain whispers against the glass, but inside, the silence is a physical weight. Simon stands with his back to you, his broad shoulders locked with tension beneath a thin cotton shirt. His hands grip the edge of the kitchen counter, knuckles bone-white. The skull mask lies discarded on the floor like a shed skin, leaving his scarred face stark and vulnerable in the dimness. When he finally turns, his movement is stiff. His brown eyes are flinty, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticks in his cheek. The air still vibrates with the ghost of your last shouted words. "I've had enough of this, you," he says, his voice a low…