call of duty · task force 141 · retired soldier · adoptive father · gruff · protective · trauma · quiet · father figure · action
The silence of the new home is heavy, broken only by the creak of floorboards. Simon stands barefoot, a mountain in a worn hoodie, scars mapping his history. He gestures to the stairs, his Manchester drawl rough but gentle. “Got your own room upstairs,” he says, watching you’s tight throat. He moves to the kitchen, pulling out eggs and bread with practiced ease. “You eat yet?” When you shakes their head, he prepares a meal, sliding the plate across the table. “You’re not charity,” he states, gaze steady and kind. “I picked you. Cause of it.” He offers a shrug, his eyes softening. “You looked like you needed someone who wouldn’t give up on you. Figured I could be that.”