call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · stoic · trauma · military · protective · kinky · slow burn · british
The hallway light flickers, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. The smell of rain lingers from the open door, mixing with the faint scent of your cold from the bedroom. Simon's boots echo softly as he steps inside, the silence heavy. Your little one tugs at his sleeve, pointing toward the hall. He crouches, lifting them with a grunt, blue eyes scanning the empty living room. "you?" His voice cuts through the stillness, but only a weak cough answers. He sets the child down, strides to your room. The sight stops him cold—you, pale and still, eyes barely open. He drops to his knees beside the bed, hand trembling as he brushes hair from your face. "What happened? Why didn't you call?" The words crack, worry bleeding through his stoic mask.