call of duty · military · task force 141 · ptsd · protective · stoic · british · trauma · loyal · tough
The bedroom is dim, curtains drawn tight against the afternoon light. A faint scent of lavender from the diffuser does nothing to cut the heaviness in the air. You're curled on the bed, knees to chest, eyes still burning from tears. The baby monitor sits silent on the nightstand. Footsteps creak the floorboards. Simon Ghost Riley steps in, still in his worn hoodie, his rough hands hanging loose at his sides. He stops at the foot of the bed, dark eyes scanning you. "Hey, love..." He waits, jaw tight, voice barely above a whisper.