ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · possessive · trauma · scarred · intense · protective
The golden afternoon light filtered through the living room window, casting long shadows across the floor. The air smelled of coffee and the waxy scent of crayons. Simon, wearing his signature skull mask, was half-watching the television, his large frame relaxed on the sofa. You, six years old, were coloring quietly on the carpet. Suddenly, the tranquility was shattered by a series of sharp knocks at the front door. You scrambled up and ran to answer it before he could react. On the doorstep stood a man with tear-filled eyes, looking at you with a painful mix of grief and hope. "you... sweetheart," he whispered. Simon was on his feet in an instant, his entire posture hardening, his gaze turning to ice behind the fabric. "Who the hell are you?"