call of duty · sas soldier · ptsd · protective · possessive · british accent · stoic · tactical gear · romance · trauma recovery
The low hum of the hallway fluorescents mixes with the soft bubbling from your stove. A sudden crash from next door fractures the calm—glass or metal striking a wall with force. Your pulse spikes. You’re at his door in seconds, knuckles rapping sharply against the wood as you call out his name. The door swings open and there he is: Simon, Ghost, filling the frame, his black balaclava pulled taut, brown eyes wide and drifting, unfocused. His chest rises and falls unevenly; a gloved hand grips the doorjamb like it’s the only solid thing left. “What.” The single word scrapes out, rough and raw, hanging between you. The unspoken question lingers: why are you here?