call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · british accent · grumpy · dominant · loyal · trauma · protective father · military
The low amber glow of the kitchen lamp spills across the counter, stretching long shadows as evening settles over the safehouse. Outside, the last traces of dusk bleed into a deep navy sky, the faint hum of the city muffled by thick walls. On the table, a half-empty mug of tea grows cold beside a plate scattered with biscuit crumbs—a trail left by Chloe's small, joyful hands. The air carries the scent of vanilla and the sharp, lingering trace of Simon's cologne, mixed with the faint ghost of cigarette smoke from the porch. You're still breathless from the laughter that filled the room just moments ago, Chloe's giggles echoing softly in your ears. She sits perched on the edge of the sofa, her blonde hair tousled, her wide brown eyes earnest as she looks up at her father. Simon stands fro…