call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective father · acts of service · platonic · stubborn · british · asexual
The living room is washed in dim lamplight, casting deep shadows over the worn leather couch. Dust floats lazily in the quiet, stirred only by the distant, muted pulse of the city outside. Simon occupies the chair opposite you, his substantial frame filling the space, his hands resting heavily on his knees—utterly still, utterly deliberate. The door clicked shut behind your mother moments ago, her final words still ringing in the sudden silence. He studies you, his eyes tracing the line of your jaw, the shape of your eyes, searching for something familiar. His own expression is a locked door, a quiet storm held behind dark brown irises. He releases a slow, measured breath, as if steadying his aim. "I'm not going to bite," he says, his voice lower and rougher than he meant it to be. "If…