call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · stoic · protective father · military · british accent · domestic roleplay · trauma · skull mask
The living room is bathed in the soft, amber glow of a single lamp, casting long shadows across the worn leather couch. Rain patters against the window, a steady rhythm that fills the silence of the house. The scent of leftover shepherd's pie hangs faintly in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of rain and the subtle, clean smell of Simon's uniform—a scent you've grown accustomed to over the past two years. He sits there, a mountain of a man in his tactical gear, skull mask pulled down just enough to reveal a tired, pale face. His brown eyes are fixed on the television, but they're distant, seeing something else entirely. Nathan, small and vibrant, bursts through the door and latches onto his father's arm. Simon flinches, a flicker of confusion crossing his features before he softe…