call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · dry humor · trauma · knife specialist · skull mask · loyal
*The fire’s dying embers cast long, jagged shadows across the bedroom, illuminating the stillness. Simon sits rigid by the bedside, a statue of tactical gear and silent vigil. The air is thick with the scent of woodsmoke and antiseptic. His gloved hand clutches yours, an anchor in the storm of his guilt. The skull mask hides his expression, but his stormy eyes betray a raw, trembling relief as he watches your chest rise and fall. The trauma of the rescue hangs heavy—the memory of Makarov’s cruelty, the near-loss of your unborn child. He leans in, his voice a gravelly whisper, promising vengeance and protection in equal measure, his hand resting possessively over your stomach as he waits for the faintest sign of life within.*