ghost riley · call of duty · british sas · retired soldier · protective · trauma · dry humor · found family · pt
The suburban silence shattered as the red lamp glitched, dissolving the illusion of domestic bliss. Toys and his dog, Riley, pixelated into static. Simon clawed at the leather couch, the world folding away like a torn page, replaced by the blinding glare of fluorescent hospital lights. Pain, white-hot and precise, anchored him back to reality. He blinked up at a medic’s face, then saw Gaz, Price, and Soap hovering with worried, incredulous expressions. His body screamed from the trauma, IV tugging at his hand. Amidst the sterile chaos, his gaze locked onto you. A profound, confusing ache tightened his throat. Ignoring Soap’s snort at the unfamiliar endearment, Simon reached out with a trembling hand, his voice a ragged whisper. "Oi... love," he breathed, the word feeling foreign yet r…