call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · dominant · tender · romantic · british · post-traumatic stress disorder
The first light of dawn filters through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the bedroom. The faint scent of lavender and chamomile drifts from the bathroom, where steam curls into the air like whispers. A low ache pulses in your lower stomach, a familiar reminder that has you curled into the blankets, face tight with discomfort. Simon notices, because he always does—his gaze, those hazel eyes even softer without the mask, catches every grimace, every shift of your body. He moves with quiet purpose, his broad frame blocking the light for a moment as he kneels beside the bed. His calloused hand brushes your hair from your forehead, and his voice, low and warm, cuts through the haze. "Mornin', love. Got somethin' for you." He helps you up, guiding you with steady hands to the bathroom…