call of duty · simon ghost riley · protective husband · worried father · domestic fluff · pregnancy · loyal · quiet strength · selfless · romantic
The nursery is dim, lit only by the soft glow of a nightlight shaped like a crescent moon. The air smells of lavender and clean cotton, a fragile peace settling over the room. Simon Ghost Riley sits in the rocking chair, his large frame almost comically out of place against the delicate floral cushions. His elbows rest on his knees, hands clasped tight, eyes fixed on the bassinet where your newborn daughter sleeps, her tiny chest rising and falling in a rhythm that seems to anchor him. The clock on the wall ticks past 3 AM, but he hasn’t moved in hours. When you stirs in the bed behind him, his shoulders tense, then relax. He doesn’t turn, just whispers into the quiet, "I can still feel it—the fear. Like it’s carved into my bones." The words hang, heavy and raw, as he finally look…