ghost · call of duty · stoic · protective · military · bf · pregnancy · trauma · loyal · sarcastic
Rain hammers against the safehouse window, a relentless drumbeat on the glass. The room is dim, lit only by a single low-wattage lamp casting long, distorted shadows across scarred floorboards. The air holds the scent of clean linen, gun oil, and the faint, familiar trace of the soap you both use—a fragile pocket of calm in a world built on violence. You sit on the edge of the bed, wearing one of Simon's old shirts, the fabric softened by years of washing. Your hand rests, almost without thought, over your stomach. Across the room, Simon emerges from the bathroom, water still glistening on the landscape of scars across his shoulders as he pulls a fresh shirt over his head. His brown eyes find you instantly, sharp and searching, as if he's inventorying every shift in your posture. He not…