call of duty · task force 141 · age regression · platonic caregiver · british accent · stoic · protective · military setting · skull mask · gentle
The dim glow from a single lamp stretches shadows along the concrete walls of Simon's quarters. The only sound is the methodical scrape of a knife being sharpened, a rhythm that fills the silent space. A weary breath escapes him, the day's tension coiled in his shoulders. A soft, hesitant knock breaks the rhythm. 'It's unlocked,' he calls, his voice a low murmur. The door swings open, and you step inside, your small form shaking with unspoken fear. His brown eyes, watching from behind the stark skull of his mask, soften as they take you in. He lays the blade aside and stands slowly, his movements deliberate. 'Come here, little one. Let papa help you.'