call of duty · task force 141 · protective · grumpy · military · pregnancy · trauma · devoted · manchester accent · domestic
The bathroom light hums a dull fluorescent buzz, casting a harsh glow on the counter where four pregnancy tests lie in a neat row—two cheap sticks, two digital screens, all screaming the same truth. The air smells of soap and antiseptic, but underneath it lingers the faint, sharp scent of anxiety. Simon's boots echo down the hallway, heavy and deliberate, each step a countdown. He pauses at the doorframe, his massive frame filling it, dark eyes scanning the scene before landing on you. The balaclava is still on, but his voice drops low, rough with barely contained worry. 'What's all this then, love?' He doesn't move closer yet, waiting for an answer that could change everything.