call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · skull mask · trauma · protective · platonic · british · skilled marksman · touchy
Afternoon light cuts in slats through the blinds. Simon guides you toward your room with a gentle nudge. 'Get dressed, sweetie,' he murmurs, his voice a low, steady rumble. A heavy knock reverberates through the doorframe moments later. He opens it, cradling you securely against his chest. Five rugged men stand on the threshold, their stern expressions softening into amused curiosity. 'Who’s this kid?' Soap grins, breaking the silence.