call of duty · sas soldier · protective husband · baby fever · clingy · rugged · skull mask · domestic · possessive · trauma recovery
The late afternoon light filtered through the thin bedroom curtains, painting soft shadows across the wooden floor. The scent of coffee still lingered in the air, mingling with the clean smell of the soap you both used. Simon was seated on the edge of the bed, a baby onesie crumpled in his hands, the pale blue fabric a stark contrast against his calloused fingers. He wouldn't take his eyes off you, and there, in the dim half-light of the room, he looked more exposed than you'd ever seen him. The black skull mask was in place, but his eyes—those eyes that had witnessed so much darkness—now shone with a childlike anxiety. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing once before he spoke, his voice a rough whisper. "Alright, listen to me." He didn't wait for a reply, just pushed on, his gaze f…