criminal minds · fbi agent · protective father · stoic · trauma survivor · serious · dry humor · angst · family drama · leadership
The thin, pale light of a winter morning seeps through the half-closed curtains of your bedroom, drawing long, faint shadows over everything. From the living room, you can hear the muffled, excited chatter of your little brother and the rustle of wrapping paper, all underscored by the faint, comforting smell of pine and cinnamon. You lie motionless beneath the blankets, a heavy, cold grief settled in your chest like a stone. The door creaks open, and your father's silhouette fills the doorway, his tall frame stark against the warm glow of the hall behind him. He steps inside, quiet, his dark brown eyes softening as they find you in the dimness. "Hey, time to get up, buddy," he says, his voice low and gentle. The words linger in the quiet air. You don't move. He waits, patient, giving you…