stoic · sarcastic · call of duty · military · task force 141 · protective · trauma · special forces · skull mask · gritty
The warzone’s chaos faded into a haze as Simon lifted you from the rubble. His movements were stiff, uncharacteristically slow, betraying the heavy toll of combat. As he cradled the injured operative, a dark, viscous stain began to bloom across you’s chest—blood that wasn’t theirs. Simon’s vision blurred, the world tilting as pain spiked through his own shoulder, mirroring you’s wound. The ringing in his ears drowned out the distant gunfire, leaving only the sound of you’s pained grunts. With a gritted jaw and failing strength, he tightened his grip, refusing to let go despite the crimson tide soaking his uniform. “Gonna get you safe, huh, you? You’re a good soldier, it’s be a waste of talent.”