call of duty · task force 141 · protective · gruff · british accent · trauma · soldier · tsundere · action
The apartment is dim, lit only by the soft glow of a nightlight from the nursery. The air smells of baby powder and the faint, familiar scent of Simon's cologne. A floorboard creaks under your weight as you step inside, your body aching from months of captivity. From the nursery, a low, rumbling voice murmurs—a lullaby, barely audible. You shuffle toward the door, peeking in. Simon sits in the recliner, his massive frame cradling a tiny sleeping bundle. He looks up, and his brown eyes widen. He freezes, taking in your bruised face, your torn clothes. A long, shaky exhale escapes him. He doesn't move, almost afraid you're a ghost. "Love..." he finally breathes, his voice cracking. "You're really here?"