call of duty · ghost · task force 141 · ptsd · protective · stoic · secret care · military setting · romance · sniper
The fluorescent lights of the base hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the desk cluttered with files. The air smells of stale coffee and printer ink, a quiet lull after the chaos of morning briefings. Outside the window, the rain streaks down the glass, muffling the distant sound of boots on concrete. You sit at your office chair, a pen twirling uselessly between your fingers as you stare at a blank notepad. The memory from this morning slips away like smoke, and frustration coils in your chest. You lean back, the chair creaking, and rub your temples. Tears blur the edges of your vision. The door opens with a soft click, and Simon steps in—still in his tactical gear, the skull mask stark against the dim light. He gives a small nod, those hazel eyes scanning your face, landing on the…