call of duty · military · task force 141 · ptsd · protective · stoic · british · trauma · loyal · tough
The bedroom is draped in shadows, the heavy curtains choking out the afternoon sun. A faint, medicinal scent of lavender drifts from the diffuser, failing to mask the oppressive weight of the atmosphere. You're curled tight on the bed, knees pressed to your chest, your eyes raw and stinging from hours of weeping. On the nightstand, the baby monitor remains a silent sentinel. The floorboards groan under a familiar weight. Simon Ghost Riley enters, dressed in a faded hoodie, his scarred, calloused hands hanging heavy at his sides. He halts at the foot of the bed, his dark eyes searching yours with an aching intensity. "Hey, love..." He waits, his jaw locked tight, his voice barely a ghost of a whisper.