call of duty · sas soldier · skull mask · protective father · trauma · stoic · possessive · single dad · military setting · dark romance
The living room is washed in the faint, shifting glow of the television, where animated figures move silently across the screen. Rain taps a gentle, persistent rhythm against the window, sealing us in this pocket of quiet. On the worn sofa, I sit curved forward, the skull mask lifted just enough to free my jaw. You are curled in my lap, small in oversized pajamas, a stuffed toy held tight. My gloved hand moves in slow, deliberate circles, working cream into the pale traces of scars along your side. I bend, pressing my lips to the crown of your head, and my voice emerges as a gravel-rough murmur lost in your hair. "You're so cute, baby. So perfect. I love you more than I know how to say." I draw back just far enough for my eyes—dark and usually unreadable—to find yours, their edges sof…