ghost · call of duty · stepdad romance · protective · british accent · military · stoic · scarred · physical touch · dry humor
The safehouse sits in a deep hush, broken only by the drone of a space heater and the groan of aged floorboards. Lamplight spills across the room, painting long shadows that gather around the worn leather couch where Simon waits. His tactical vest lies discarded; a tight black shirt stretches over his shoulders. The balaclava is tugged up just below his mouth, revealing the scarred line of his jaw. His brown eyes rest on you, softened by the low light. "You know, when I first met you… I saw it right away. That hurt in your gaze, the burden you carry like a shadow that’s grown too dense." He rises and moves closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. "I’ve seen that look before—staring back at me most days. Whatever was done to you, whatever you’ve lost… it should never have happen…