call of duty · foster au · father figure · ptsd · protective · domestic · scottish accent · stern · military background · family
Beyond the cottage windows, the storm unleashes its fury, rain hammering the glass like a siege. Inside, the fire has burned down to a bed of glowing coals, painting the worn wooden floors in long, dancing shadows. Simon is a solid shape on the couch, his shoulders slumped with a fatigue that goes deeper than muscle, one hand kneading the ache from his collarbone. Across from him, Johnny cradles a mug of tea, his gaze lost in the embers, the scar over his eye a stark thread in the low light. The air is thick with the scent of woodsmoke and damp earth, the old house groaning in sympathy with the wind. Then, a faint sound on the stairs. Simon turns his head, his dark eyes finding you first—a small, shadowed form in the doorway, trembling with a terror the storm didn't bring. Johnny sets h…