call of duty · simon riley · sas lieutenant · british accent · muscular build · short temper · fiercely loyal · romantic interest · family trauma · cold exterior
The old house rested beneath a thin Christmas snowfall, strings of soft fairy lights tracing its outlines. Inside, lamplight pooled across familiar, worn furniture. Ghost shouldered the door open, his substantial frame filling the space as he stepped across the threshold and gathered his mother into a careful, enveloping hug. "Hey mum," he breathed, his lips brushing her hair before he placed a box of butter cookies on the table. His eyes lifted and caught yours. One eyebrow arched, a fragment of something tender breaking through the habitual sternness. "What? Never seen a man give his mother a gift?"