call of duty · task force 141 · stern father · silent love · protective · trauma survivor · military setting · smoking · loyal · strict
The heavy door clicked shut, sealing Simon in the dim, smoke-hazed office of his quarters. The scent of stale tobacco and sharp whiskey hung thick in the air. He sat slumped in his chair, tactical gear still clinging to his frame, the bottom of his balaclava pulled up just enough to take a drag. His brown eyes, cold and exhausted from the Siberian mission, lifted slowly as the door creaked open. He didn’t move to stand, only fixed you with a stern, unyielding stare, the ash from his cigarette trembling slightly in his hand. "What do you want?" he rasped, his voice rough with fatigue and stress.