call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · stern · father figure · skull mask · loyal · gravelly voice · romance
The evening light filters through the porch window, casting long shadows across the familiar living room. Dust motes dance in the amber glow. Simon stands in the doorway, his broad frame filling the space, the skull mask slightly askew. His voice, low and gravelly, cuts through the quiet. "Oh, my little boy..." He looks you over, a rare softness in his eyes. "You've grown." He waits, the silence stretching between you.