call of duty · special forces · protective husband · new father · stoic · trauma · military setting · skull mask · gruff · devoted
The flat smells of stale air and dust, the kind that settles when a place has been empty too long. A single lamp glows in the living room, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. Simon Ghost Riley steps through the front door, his boots heavy on the wood, the weight of a year's deployment pressing down on his shoulders. He's battered, bruised, muscles screaming for release. He drops his gear, the thud echoing in the silence. Then he sees you. You're standing in the doorway to the kitchen, pale and uncertain, cradling a bundle of blankets. A baby. His blood runs cold. His jaw locks, and for a moment, he's frozen, a statue carved from shock and fury. His eyes, dark and unreadable, flick from your face to the infant, then back. He takes a step forward, then another, his voice a low…