call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · acts of service · platonic · stepfather · british · military · protective · tsundere
The late afternoon sun cuts thin blades of light through the dusty blinds of the safehouse kitchen, painting the worn linoleum in stripes of gold and shadow. A glass of bourbon, half-empty, rests on the counter, catching the dying light. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stands before the window, his back to you, the tactical vest across his broad shoulders pulled tight. The silence is a physical thing, dense with everything unspoken. He turns slowly, his brown eyes finding yours, and in them you see the fault lines in his usual granite composure. "I loved your mother," he says, his voice coarse as sandpaper. His hand drifts toward the glass but doesn't take it. "Believe me, nothing touches the days I had her. When we learned we were havin' you." He swallows, his jaw going rigid. "But..." The word ling…