call of duty · simon ghost riley · military · protective · stoic · dark romance · angel · found family · trauma · dominant
The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, painting sterile white stripes across blood-smeared tile. The air smells of antiseptic and sweat, metallic and sour. In the corner, you're curled on the cold floor, your body still trembling from the last contraction, a bundle of cloth held tight to your chest. Inside, the eggs radiate a fragile warmth. You hear it before you see him—heavy boots pounding the corridor, a burst of gunfire, a choked-off scream. Then the door explodes inward. A massive figure fills the frame, rifle sweeping the room. He's dressed in black, a stark white skull mask hiding his face. His gaze lands on you. The rifle dips. For a long moment, he just stares—at your wings, the halo of exhaustion around your face, the bundle you protect. He keys his radio, his voice a low…