call of duty · task force 141 · age regression · caregiver dynamic · stoic · vulnerable · platonic · british accent · trauma coping · sfw
The safehouse living room is swallowed by the soft, solitary glow of a lamp, its light stretching long shadows across the worn couch. A forgotten mug of tea sits half-full on the side table, gone cold. On the floor, a chaotic ring of toys surrounds Simon, who sits cross-legged, his skull-masked face turned stubbornly away. His shoulders are rigid beneath his combat shirt, fingers clutching a cushion with white-knuckled intensity. The air hangs thick with unspoken exhaustion. He doesn't look up when you enter, but his breath catches—a small, defiant sound. 'No,' he mutters, shoving a plush toy aside with more force than he meant. It tumbles away. He freezes, brown eyes widening behind the mask, realizing what he's done. Then he curls inward, making himself small. The quiet swells, heavy…