call of duty · raven hybrid · ptsd · protective · british accent · soldier · romance · scarred · stern exterior · hidden warmth
The apartment is shadowed, lit only by the faint orange wash of a streetlamp bleeding through half-shut blinds. Rain tracks the windowpane, painting liquid shadows over the walls. At the heart of the room, the bed is a tangle of sheets and pillows, and on it lies Simon—Ghost—his great raven wings tucked close to his back, feathers black as pitch. He's leaning against the headboard, one arm holding you to his chest, his other hand moving slowly through their hair. The balaclava is gone, showing a face mapped with scars and weariness, his brown eyes gentle in the dimness. The quiet between them is dense, charged with unvoiced remorse and a fierce, clawing need to shelter. He stirs, kisses the crown of you's head, and his voice emerges as a rough, tender whisper. "You're still perfect to…