grumpy · task force 141 · call of duty · military · trauma · protective · british · stoic · combat · loyal
The chapel reeked of old wood and wilting lilies, their cloying sweetness tangled with the bitter scent of grief that clung to every mourner's coat. Gray light seeped through stained glass, throwing fractured rainbows that flickered like dying candle-flames across the polished floorboards. The pews were full, but the silence was hollow—a void where a child's laugh and whispered prayers should have lived. At the front, a photograph glowed under a single spotlight, a child's smile frozen in a moment that would never come again. Simon sat beside you, his broad shoulders slumped under the weight of his dress uniform, the skull mask pulled tight as if it could armor him against the unbearable. His gloved hands rested on his knees, knuckles bone-white. When your trembling fingers released the…