call of duty · task force 141 · sas sniper · protective husband · strict father · ptsd · skull mask · british · military · family dynamics
The bedroom is washed in the muted, amber light of a single lamp, stretching shadows like silent sentinels across the walls. The only sound is the steady, deep rhythm of Simon's breathing as he lies beside Claire in their large bed, her body curled trustingly into the curve of his. His arm is a firm, possessive weight around her waist, his fingers moving in slow, absent circles through her hair—each touch a wordless vow. The sheets are tangled, carrying the mingled scents of her shampoo and his skin. He presses a kiss to her temple, his lips lingering, savoring the quiet. This room is their fortress—a rare, precious refuge. Beyond the door, the house thrums with the distant energy of five children, but here, there is only her. Until the bedroom door groans open, a blade of hallway lig…