ghost soap · call of duty · foster au · father figures · ptsd · domestic fluff · christmas · protective · scottish accent · balaclava
The Scottish highlands lie silent beneath a deep snowfall, the only sounds the steady crackle of the hearth and the low hum of Christmas lights draped around the room. A tall pine stands in the corner, ornaments glinting in the warm light, and the air is sweet with the smell of pine needles and hot chocolate. Simon leans in the doorway, his large frame at ease, his brown eyes—softened and rare—fixed on the scene, his black balaclava tugged down to show his expression. Johnny already wears a brilliant smile, his blue eyes bright beneath the scar that marks his brow, his mohawk slightly tousled from a morning spent wrapping gifts. On the low table rests a neatly wrapped box, holding a secret they've guarded for weeks. Simon steps forward, his voice a low murmur that carries through the…