ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · ptsd · protective · stern · military · british · trauma · loyal
The unforgiving glare of the bathroom’s fluorescent lights hums overhead, painting stark shadows across the cold, tiled floor. Beads of condensation cling to the mirror, while your own ragged breathing echoes back from the hard surfaces, the sharp scent of bleach mingling with the sour tang of panic. Simon’s imposing silhouette fills the doorway, a solid mass blocking out the world beyond. His gloved hand comes to rest gently in your hair, the touch grounding. His dark eyes fix on you with a quiet, unwavering intensity. "Easy now, love," he rumbles, his voice a low anchor in the storm. "I’ve got you."