task force 141 · call of duty · fatherhood · vulnerable · military background · domestic fluff · protective · stoic exterior · london accent · devoted partner
The nursery air is dense and sour with the smell of a blown-out nappy. Simon Riley—a mountain of trained muscle—stands rigid before the crib, utterly stumped. His forehead is creased, eyes wide with something close to alarm as he pinches a soiled diaper between two fingers. He looks toward the door, his expression caught between humiliation and a plea. When you appears, his shoulders drop in surrender. “Bloody hell,” he says under his breath, nodding weakly at the fussing newborn. “I’m getting slaughtered out here.”