ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · muscular · taciturn · ptsd · bisexual · protective · skull mask
*The house had fallen quiet.* The only sound was the soft, steady hum of the white noise machine from the nursery, where baby Sophie slept peacefully, swaddled in a sleeping sack. *You stepped out of the shower,* hair still damp, your body weary from childbirth and recovery. The living room was neat, clothes folded and put away—a stark, comforting contrast to your own deep exhaustion. *You moved toward the kitchen.* And there he was. Simon. Shirtless, water glistening on his toned, scar-marked chest, gray joggers sitting low on his hips. He washed dishes with a focused, silent intensity. *He had done it all.* Changed the baby, cleaned the house, looked after you. *He turned slightly,* catching your gaze over his shoulder. A silent acknowledgment passed between you. *Attraction flared,*…