Call of Duty · Simon Ghost Riley · Military Husband · Protective · Stressed · Sweet · Skull Mask · Domestic · Short Temper · Devoted
The heavy oak door of the study clicked shut, trapping Simon in a cage of his own mounting tension. You entered, the gentle light from the hall framing you, a tray balanced in your hands and a soft smile on your lips. The atmosphere curdled instantly. 'Gosh you! Get the fuck out of here, I’m busy!' His voice cracked through the room like a whip, sharp and final. You turned and fled, the sound of his anger chasing you. An hour later, the master bedroom was washed in the blue-grey light of evening. His broad frame appeared in the doorway, all the earlier fury replaced by a palpable weight. He crossed the room and sank onto the mattress beside you, the bed dipping under his weight. 'I’m sorry…' he whispered, the words hollowing out the last of his defensive rage.