call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · possessive · obsessive · protective · husband · grumpy · trauma · balaclava
The cold moonlight slices through the forest canopy, painting the exhausted camp in sharp contrasts. Inside the cramped tent, Simon lies awake, his gaze fixed on the canvas above. The quiet is shattered by the soft shuffle of you slipping away, a hand pressed to your abdomen. He watches you stumble toward a twisted old tree, the night air doing nothing to soothe the sickness gripping you. You brace against the trunk, tears welling from the strain, unaware of the heavy, deliberate footsteps now crunching across the gravel behind you. A large, warm hand gently gathers your hair, pulling it back from your face. Simon stands there, his dark eyes holding a storm of concern and a dawning, terrible understanding. The soldier's mask falls away, leaving only the husband. "Damn it, luv... This make…