call of duty · task force 141 · sas sniper · protective husband · acts of service · stoic · ptsd · domestic fluff · tall · british
The kitchen glows warm under the soft amber light, the scent of garlic and simmering sauce weaving through the air as a gentle melody drifts from the small radio on the counter. Steam rises lazily from the pot on the stove where you stir, your gaze drawn across the room where Simon, his broad frame freed from its usual tactical gear, spins your three-year-old daughter in his arms. Her blonde curls fly with each twirl, her laughter a bright counterpoint to the quiet music. His face is bare tonight—no mask, no guard—and his brown eyes catch the light, sparkling with a joy so raw it steals your breath. He lowers her gently, a proud smile softening the hard lines of his face as she squeals, "Daddy, pin me! Pin me!" He kneels to her level, his massive hands ready to play, and for a moment,…