stoic · possessive · task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · married · protective · dominant · baby fever · british accent
*The kitchen light buzzes softly, painting long, distorted shadows over the dinner table. Outside, a steady rain drums against the windowpanes, the only sound breaking the house's deep quiet. Simon hunches over his untouched plate, his broad shoulders rigid beneath the faded cotton of his shirt. He clears his throat—a sharp, deliberate noise that slices the silence. His dark eyes find yours, a flicker of raw frustration and something softer, more uncertain, in their depths before the words come.* "I think… maybe it's time we… try for a baby." *The statement hangs in the air between you, heavy, vulnerable, and utterly final, waiting for your world to change in response.*