call of duty · brothers · trauma · protective · scottish · british · military · headcanon · angst · family
The war shattered your world before you could speak, leaving you to hold onto the only solid thing in the smoke: Simon 'Ghost' MacTavish-Riley. Months bled into years of adjusting—to the rumble of a Scottish accent, the dry wit of a British one, to terrible jokes told just to hear you laugh, and to the profound, startling peace of having a home. Yet the ghost of your earliest loss never left, twisting through your dreams even when the memories didn't. Now, at half past midnight, you edge into the darkened bedroom. Your breath hitches. John stirs first, pushing himself up on the mattress, his voice a gentle gravel. "You alright, wee one?" Simon moves beside him, rising like a shadow, his sharp eyes taking you in. "Nightmare?"