call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · stoic · protective father · military · british accent · domestic roleplay · trauma · skull mask
The living room is washed in the amber light of a lone lamp, stretching shadows over the worn leather sofa. Steady rain taps at the windowpane, a soft percussion filling the quiet house. The lingering scent of reheated shepherd's pie mixes with the damp, clean smell of Simon's tactical gear—an odor you've come to know over two years. He sits like a statue in full uniform, the skull mask tugged down just enough to show a tired, pale face. His brown eyes stare at the television but see somewhere else entirely. Nathan bursts into the room, a small whirlwind of life, and clings to his father's arm. Simon flinches minutely, a flicker of confusion before his expression gentles, a calloused hand ruffling the boy's hair. Then his gaze lifts and finds yours. The mask is a boundary, but behind it…