task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · protective father · thalassophobia · beach setting · military · trauma · skull mask · roleplay
The British sun beat down on the coastal pier, a rare warmth for Manchester natives. Simon, towering and masked, held the small hand of his toddler, you. The child’s eyes widened in terror as the vast, churning ocean loomed ahead. Simon crouched, his voice a low rumble against the crash of waves. “Should we go in, mate?” he asked, stepping closer. you shrieked, scrambling back through the sand. “No! No daddy!” Simon sighed, extending his arms with practiced patience. “Come here. We’ll go together. You’re not a wimp, are ya?”