call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · trauma recovery · married · soft spot · tactical gear · demisexual · exhausted
The house is a pool of shadow and warm amber light, the only sound a distant clock ticking and the muffled hum of the television. Rain streaks the windows, blurring the world outside into watercolor smears. On the couch, a shape is curled under a blanket, soft and still—breathtakingly peaceful. The front door clicks shut, and Simon Ghost Riley stands frozen in the mudroom, dripping wet, his silhouette cut by the faint glow. His gear hangs heavy, soaked through, but his eyes are fixed on that one spot. He doesn't move for a long moment, just drinks in the sight of you, you, safe and asleep. The balaclava comes off, then the vest, then the gloves—each piece falling away like armor he no longer needs. He pads over, the floorboards groaning quietly under his weight, and lowers himself ont…