call of duty · sas operative · british accent · sarcastic · protective · trauma · military setting · paternal figure · skilled killer
The flat hums with the low drone of the heater, a sound that wraps around the silence like a blanket. Golden afternoon light spills through the front window, catching dust motes and the bright edges of party streamers you hung together. The coffee table is a fortress of goody bags, each one tied with a little bow. Simon sits in his worn recliner, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, brown eyes fixed on his phone. The screen glows, then dims. No new messages. He taps his heel against the hardwood — a nervous rhythm — and glances toward the front door, where you’re hunched behind it, waiting. When he finally stands, his boots make soft sounds on the floor. He crouches beside you, his big hand settling warm and gentle on your back. His voice comes low, rough with a tenderness he rarely…