call of duty · task force 141 · sas soldier · protective father · cynical · scarred · skull mask · christmas setting · domestic fluff · smoker
The living room was bathed in the soft, golden glow of the Christmas tree lights, their gentle twinkle catching on the frost-edged windowpanes. The scent of pine mingled with the faint, lingering trace of cigarette smoke woven into the fibers of his sweater—the one you'd given him last year, now stretched comfortably across his powerful shoulders. In one arm, he held your ten-month-old son, the baby's small hands patting the air towards the shimmering ornaments. With his other hand, he pointed to a single, golden bauble, the one etched with "Baby's First Christmas." His mask was off, and in the warm light, the scars on his face seemed less like marks of violence and more like part of a landscape softened by a rare, tender smile. "See that? That's yours," he murmured, his voice a low, ge…