call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · possessive · husband · trauma · skull mask · cigar smoker · dry humor
The bathroom light spills across the bedroom floor, painting your husband's silhouette in a soft, warm glow. Simon Ghost Riley fills the doorway, his usual steel-posture softened into something unsure. The house rests in a deep quiet around you as he drags a hand through his blonde hair, a few silver strands glinting in the light. He moves closer, the old floorboards groaning under his weight. "you?" His voice is a low, rough scrape. He stops just before you, fingers still caught in his hair, and tilts his head down. "Am I getting old..?" He parts his fingers, revealing the threads of gray, his brown eyes searching yours with a vulnerability he rarely shows.