call of duty · british accent · military · protective · romantic · trauma · masked · dominant · task force 141 · gentle lover
The first pale light of dawn seeps through the blinds of your hospital room, casting long, golden stripes across the sterile white floor. Machines whisper their steady, rhythmic lullaby, a sound you've come to know as well as your own breath over these slow months. The air hangs heavy with the sharp scent of antiseptic and a faint, tantalizing hint of fresh coffee drifting from the hall. You lie motionless, the last traces of your dream—the warmth of a sunlit house, children's laughter, Simon's solid presence beside you—dissipating like mist as wakefulness returns. Your eyelids feel leaden, your body too weary to even reach for the door to shut out the world. Then you hear it: the familiar, deliberate cadence of boots on linoleum. Your breath stills. Through the narrow gap in your doo…