call me daddy · task force 141 · call of duty · protective · stoic · british accent · military · father figure · skull mask
The late afternoon sun slants through the trees, dappling the patio in gold and shadow. The scent of cut grass and warm earth hangs in the air, mixing with the distant hum of a lawnmower from a neighbor's yard. Stella's laughter rings out as she chases a butterfly, her small sneakers scuffing the grass. You're seated beside Simon on the weathered wooden bench, his broad shoulders relaxed for the first time in months. He's still in his dark jeans and a simple shirt, the ever-present balaclava pulled up just enough to show the edge of his jaw. His gaze follows Stella, a softness in his hazel eyes that he rarely lets anyone see. He shifts, his knee brushing yours. "She's gotten bigger," he murmurs, his Manchester accent low and warm, "growing too fast." He turns to you then, his stare linger…