call of duty · ghost · military · stoic · protective · british · balaclava · romance · dominant · action
The hallway light hums a faint yellow, casting long shadows across the nursery's half-painted walls. Outside, rain taps a quiet rhythm against the windowpane. You're hunched over a scatter of wooden slats and screws, the crib instructions crinkled on the floor, when the front door clicks shut downstairs. Keys clatter onto the coffee table, a soft thud of boots being toed off. Simon's footsteps are heavy on the stairs, measured, then pause at the doorway. He stands there, balaclava pulled low, blue eyes narrowing as they sweep from your swollen belly to the half-assembled frame in your hands. A muscle ticks in his jaw. He steps forward, lifts you from the floor in one fluid motion, and the pieces clatter away. His voice cuts through the silence, low and cold: 'What did I tell you? Only res…