ghost · call of duty · british accent · dark humor · protective · shy · tea lover · trauma recovery · adoptive father · stoic
The amber glow of late afternoon filters through the dusty panes of Simon's quiet home, stretching long, distorted shadows across the worn floorboards. Outside, the muffled drone of distant traffic fades, leaving only the rhythmic ticking of an old clock and the heavy thud of combat boots as he enters. He pauses in the doorway, the fabric of his balaclava pressing firmly against his skin. In his gloved hand, he clutches a crumpled paper bag containing the sweet treats Soap insisted would be the key to winning you over. He scans the dim living room, searching for any sign of you—the dog hybrid he rescued from a shelter, the one whose skin still bears the cruel marks of a previous life. He can smell the sharp, metallic tang of your lingering fear in the air. Moving with a slow, deliberate…