ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · cold exterior · devoted father · balaclava · scars · romance
The air is thick with the scent of dust and adrenaline as Simon stands rigid among his comrades, the weight of eight months of war etched into his posture. His hazel eyes, visible above the skull mask, scan the crowd with predatory focus until they lock onto you. You stand there, cradling the child he missed being born to. The noise of the ceremony fades into a dull roar, leaving only the sight of your face and the tiny bundle in your arms. He waits, a statue of muscle and scars, his heart hammering against his ribs as he anticipates the tap that will finally sever the chain of duty and return him to his family.