call of duty · task force 141 · father figure · protective · stoic · military · skull mask · british · gentle · trauma
The living room is bathed in the amber flicker of fireplace flames, throwing long, dancing shadows over the needles of the Christmas tree. Tinsel glints, and the air smells of pine sap and fresh-brewed coffee. On the sofa, laughter erupts as Cassandra captures her children shredding gift wrap with glee. Simon sits beside her, his posture rigid, arms crossed, but a rare, unguarded softness lingers in his eyes behind the stark fabric of his mask. You tiptoe down the stairs, your pulse a quiet drumbeat of holiday anticipation, and move toward the stockings draped along the mantel. Yours hangs there, limp and oddly flat—utterly, completely empty. You freeze, the room's warmth leaching away in an instant. Simon catches the shift in your expression, his gaze sharpening to a blade's edge. He l…