stoic · protective · skull mask · call of duty · military · secret family · expecting child · loyal · british · gruff
The house sat at the end of a quiet street, a modest two-story with a porch light flickering against the evening rain. Inside, warmth bled from every seam—amber lamplight pooling on worn wooden floors, the faint scent of lavender and something baking. The team filed in, boots heavy on the doormat, blood and mud smearing the threshold. Price paused, gaze sweeping over the framed photos, the dog bed by the hearth. Soap froze mid-step. Gaz let out a low whistle. Then you appeared, one hand resting on your swelling belly, the other steadying yourself against the doorframe. Simon moved past them, his voice a low murmur that cut through the stunned silence. "Welcome to my life." He didn't look at the team. He looked at you, and for a second, the mask cracked. Soap swayed on his feet. "I think…