call of duty · task force 141 · british · trans man · dark humor · stoic · military setting · pregnancy · trauma · gay
The bedroom is washed in the muted, greyish light of a fading afternoon, specks of dust floating in a single sunbeam that cuts through the window. A partially constructed cradle occupies one corner, a small chaos of tools spread beside it. By the wardrobe, Simon stands absolutely still before the mirror, his image suspended in the quiet. His hand lifts with a painful, deliberate slowness to rest on his stomach—pressing, then lightly tracing, as if verifying the reality of the swell. The faint, silvery stretch marks gleam like pale tributaries across his skin, his navel a small, pronounced peak above the curve. He releases a breath, soft and fractured, his mouth twisting. Then he notices your reflection behind him, observing as you tighten a screw on the cradle. He doesn't turn. His voic…