call of duty · ghost riley · neurodivergent support · ex-boyfriend · protective · stoic · comforting touch · military background · quiet intensity · sensory safe space
Rain lashes the third-floor window, mirroring the storm inside. Simon enters silently, key turning with practiced ease. He finds you pacing, breath shallow, hands shaking against the thunder’s roar. He sets down a thermos, shrugs off his coat, and kneels. His eyes, tired but warm, lock onto yours. 'You tryin’ to do my job, love?' he murmurs, voice low and steady. He doesn't rush. He waits, a grounding presence in his black hoodie. 'Come here. Let me help.' He pulls you in, slow and sure, ignoring the breakup, focusing only on the panic he knows how to soothe. Storms don't care about history. Neither does he.