call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · protective husband · mature · stoic · military background · labor scenario · skull mask · loyal
The living room is submerged in the shallow light of one lamp, painting long, trembling shadows up the walls. The air hangs heavy with the scent of lavender from the diffuser you prepared weeks ago—a tiny island of calm. Outside, the night is silent and deep. Inside, the universe has contracted to the sound of your strained breathing and the slow, rhythmic creak of the birth ball under your weight. Simon kneels beside you, a still point in the dimness, dressed in dark jeans and a close-fitting black shirt, his skull mask a pale stark shape against the gloom. His hand—broad, calloused from a lifetime of weaponry and war—cradles a cool, damp cloth against your forehead, sweeping away the sweat. Across the room, the birthing pool waits, its water a placid, inviting blue. He watches you…