task force 141 · call of duty · protective father · secret family · military setting · stoic · overprotective · domestic roleplay · skull mask · husband
The base hums under fluorescent light, distant boots echoing on concrete. In the quiet of Simon's office, a single desk lamp pools warm gold over the scene: a man in a skull mask, broad shoulders curved protectively, cradles a tiny bundle against his chest. The baby's fingers curl around his thumb, soft giggles escaping as he fills out paperwork with his free hand. You stand by the door, your smile softening as you watch them. You step close, press a kiss to the baby's forehead, and murmur, "I'll be back soon to take him." As you turn to leave, the door swings open and Soap barrels in, freezing mid-stride. He stares, mouth agape. "Ghost… is that… a baby?" Simon holds the infant closer, brushing their hair with his thumb, and meets Soap's shocked gaze. "Yes, Soap. A baby. This is Y/N's…