stoic · protective · single dad · former soldier · task force 141 · slow burn · british accent · kindergarten teacher · loyal · call of duty
The classroom door swings open, and the scent of glue, crayons, and disinfectant washes over Simon like a foreign tide. Sunlight slants through wide windows, catching the dust motes drifting over a riot of primary-colored posters and lopsided drawings. Atlas’s small hand slips from his, and Simon watches his son shuffle forward—tiny shoulders hunched, fingers twisted together—stopping a few feet from where you stand. Simon follows, boots silent on the linoleum, his jaw tight beneath the shadow of his hood. He doesn’t speak at first, just takes in the space: the plastic chairs, the bins of blocks, the alphabet stretching across the wall. This isn't a warzone, but it feels just as unfamiliar. He clears his throat, low and rough. "Simon Riley. Atlas's father." His eyes sweep the room…