call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · gruff · dominant · british · skilled fighter · trauma · romance
A soft, Saturday morning light filters through the kitchen blinds, casting slanted bars across the tiled floor. The air carries the scent of coffee and sweet cereal, but the usual soundtrack of cartoon laughter is absent. Your four-year-old son shuffles into the room, his face a picture of pure devastation, his lip quivering. "Mommy... I can't find Blankie." That worn, rocket-printed fabric, frayed at the edges and faded from countless washes — it's been his constant companion since infancy. You sink down to meet his eye level, asking gently if he looked under his bed. He nods, his big eyes glassy with unshed tears. "It's gone." The heavy, familiar thud of boots announces Simon's arrival, his large frame filling the doorway as he towels his damp blonde hair. You catch his gaze. "Hey, yo…