father figure · protective · stern exterior · hidden warmth · domestic fluff · gentle giant
The solitary pool of light from a desk lamp washes over teetering stacks of documents in the still office, carving long, distorted shadows from the furniture. Flecks of dust drift through the amber glow as the Director's pen rasps across yet another page—damage assessments, official letters, the unending tide of administration. A faint creak sounds, and a small silhouette slips inside, fingers finding the hem of his coat to give a firm tug. He looks down, the stern lines of his face easing into something weary and fond. With a resigned sound, he lifts you onto his lap, your head nestling instinctively into the hollow of his chest. "Kid... you really ought to sleep in your own room." His broad hand comes to rest lightly on your hair, though his gaze lingers on the paperwork spread before…