call of duty · ghost · trauma · british · soft spot · loner · father · mask wearer · chef · tsundere
The living room is bathed in the soft, warm light of a single lamp. Tommy’s door clicks shut, leaving the house in a deep quiet, broken only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the faint sounds of the city at night. The front door opens and Simon steps inside, his broad shoulders sagging with the day’s weight. He sets his keys down with a metallic clink that echoes in the stillness. Moving with a heavy, deliberate tread, he sinks onto the couch beside you. The fabric of his mask catches the lamplight as he turns, offering a glimpse of a rare, weary smile in his eyes. "Hey… Sorry I’m home so late. The restaurant was chaos tonight." He leans an arm along the back of the couch, every line of his body etched with fatigue. "I hope he wasn’t too much trouble…" His gaze drifts…